WARNING: Bah Humbug Sentiments Below...

Today is the day that I hate the most in my office. It's called Pig Out Day. And it's the epitome of why I hate this gluttonous, consumer-driven holiday. There are at least a hundred people roaming the hallways avoiding work and eating today - all in the name of the "holiday season." And not just eating bites here and there but piling their plates with the fattiest, greasiest, most unhealthy food they can find. And the piles threaten to topple over at any moment with the weight of the food on them. The smells in the hallways make me gag and the site of the same overweight, unhealthy people going back to the crock pots over and over again make me want to scream. When I explain to co-workers why I haven't brought any food and I won't eat any food, they explain, "Oh COME ON. This only happens once per year."

Oh yeah? How about Halloween? How about Thanksgiving? How about all the Christmas parties? How about New Years Eve? That isn't once per year; it's three months of the year. And no wonder we all need New Years resolutions: So we can take off all the pounds we put on over the "once per year" holiday season....

And I realize that my inexplicable visceral reaction to a day is more about me than about anyone else. But I just have to take this moment to say that I really can't stand the gluttonous consumerism and excesses this "holiday" tolerates. And I thought the poster child couldn't get anymore obvious than this day. I was proved oh-so-wrong about the animal instincts this holiday evokes when a Wal-mart greeter gets trampled by the herds of animals shopping for the perfect cheapest gift for the "spirit of the holidays" and when the police came the shoppers got MAD BECAUSE THE POLICE INTERRUPTED THEIR SHOPPING.

I get spitting mad when I get on this subject. And Internet, I'm usually a happy-go-lucky person that just wants everyone to get along. But this is something that will bring out the devil in me every year. So in order to let all my co-workers just have their gluttonous day without my stupid rantings, I'll write about it here for you, Internet. Aren't you lucky?

Stay Warm

Winter is finally showing its true colors around here. We've had sub-zero temps for the past 5 days and it's forecasted to continue for another 5 at least. I would normally be complaining up some warmth about such a thing. But this time, I'm actually relieved we have some cold weather. The pine bark beetles might be halted in their steady consumption of a good portion of our forrests. The flu and pneumonia viruses that have proliferated around here might be stopped in their tracks (just before they get me). And the deer in our town for which people have no tolerance will have a more difficult winter and may perish at the hands of their more sympathetic Mother Nature rather than the Helena Police in their culling efforts.

Unfortunately CDoc's car has been sacrificed to the Winter Gods. It got a ride (tow) to a warm and lovely garage to get some love and affection. Hopefully it'll come out with a new attitude and work for the rest of the winter. Keep your fingers crossed.

But my conscience is not without some pause when it gets this cold for this long. Paying for heat is especially difficult when it has to run 24/7 just to keep a place warm. I cringe to think of the families that have to choose between warmth and food at this time. Our office has vowed to donate piles of food to the Food Share in town. I loaded up my car full of food to add to the mounds of food brought in by my co-workers to donate. I have this hopefully-not-naive thought that maybe my donation will make the choice for some family to turn up the heat instead of spend their money at the grocery store.

I hope more of you do the same.

Happy Holidays. Stay warm.

Never Too Old ....

My birthday was last Saturday and Hubs came home the night before. He couldn't wait to give me gifts (that he bought against the rules of NO GIFTS while we're on one income). So, shortly after he was smothered with love by the dogs, he presented me with gifts. Yup, plural. Rule breaker.

The first was a beautifully wrapped package of 1/2 dozen red velvet cupcakes from Crave. Seriously, these HAVE to be the best cupcakes I've ever tasted. I immediately stuffed my face with every last morsel of cupcake leaving nothing behind but the sheen of butter on my fingers. Mmmmmm, my mouth is watering right now as I write.

The next gift was a cute red hat that I'd lusted over while I was visiting Hubs in Calgary a few weeks ago. I heart my new hat and think I should wear it EVERY.DAY.

And then the finale. Hubs pulled out a little manilla envelope about the size of a post-it note. I opened it and inside was a tiny plastic ziploc bag holding a diamond stud with a post that twisted into a funny shape - clearly not an earring. My eyes got big with surprise and trepidation when I'd realized that all the years I'd claimed that I would pierce my nose were going to be put to the test. He'd gotten me a nose stud; a diamond, white-gold nose stud.

Sooo, December 6th, the anniversary of the day of my birth 36 years ago, I paid someone to shove a needle into my nose for vanity's sake.

And I love it.

I Heart My Tyres

I spent a whole lotta cash on my well-being yesterday: 4 new Nokian Tyres on my little car. I have been batting back and forth the idea of getting new tires on my car. I decided long ago that I would either get studded snow tires (something I've never had before) or get new all-season, severe-weather rated tires. Usually I can rely upon Hubs' 4-wheel drive truck to get me around when the weather requires. Since he left, I've been meaning to make an appointment for my little car.

Yesterday when I awoke to rain, it crossed my mind that I would need to get rolling on that plan for new tires. Then, when it turned to snow and the forecast predicted much more of it along with dropping temps, I called my favorite neighborhood tire shop and made an appointment. They had the all-seasons in stock and could get me in by 11 a.m. So, that made my decision: no studded tires. I was reluctant because studs would be perfect for the steep drive up to my little home perched above Helena. However, my friends at the tire store made me think that the all-seasons were my best bet.

$650 later I rolled down the street still unsure but ready to test the new tires in the still-snowing, icy underneath roads. I turned out of the parking lot, stopped at the stop sign and BAM! A freaking idiot rear-ended me. NO KIDDING. Fortunately for her, there wasn't even a scratch on my car. I took her name and number (knowing nothing would come of it) right after she proclaimed: Sorry. Ice. Like it was going to help explain the fact that I'd just seen her pull out in front of another car and then proceed to whack me.

I drove home wary of other drivers. But my car, despite the ice and snow and the steep road, and weather that previously would have left me parked on the roadside hiking up the hill, carried me home without even a spin on the tires. I turned the corner from one steep hill to the next steep hill as if I was on dry pavement. I think I love my new tyres. And I think I'll write to this woman and suggest she get herself an appointment and some new tyres as well.

One Door Closes ...

Today is the day that Papa will hang up his hat, extract his ear plugs and put away his steel-toed shoes. After 37 years, 5 months of working the same company, taking the heat from out-of-touch, self-serving corporate cronies, and suffering the monotony of day in and day out humdrum, he will walk out the door never to return. During those many years, he didn't think seriously (though he dreamt regularly) about quitting his loathed job, partially because his generation was committed to a life-long job and partially because he was able to take good financial care of his family of five because of the wages he earned. After today, when his three daughters are grown and on their own, and he's still young enough to really enjoy being his own boss, he'll be enslaven to nobody and nothing except the regular beat (or irregular beat when it's not working properly) of the propellar motor on his fishing boat. Bittersweet, of course, even though he's been counting the days to this day. Bitter because it was a l.o.n.g. 37 years; sweet because he'll be opening a new chapter of his life.

Papa, you deserve this. Congratulations for an accomplished life and career. Now go fishing. I love you.

And So It Goes ...

This week will mark the first of hopefully-not-many holidays I'll spend without Hubs. It's a career hazard to live 6 hours from each other and then travel another 10 hours the other way to the Bis for a holiday that only lasts 4 days. There is little likelihood that under this scenario, we'll ever be together for a holiday.

There is also little likelihood, however, that our holidays will be spent in the Bis for very much longer. PapaDoc took an early retirement and the ParentDoc duo is seriously comtemplating their relocation to our little sleepy town of Helena. It's a bittersweet thought as I try to contemplate never having Christmas or Thanksgiving in the house I've called home for much of my life.

So, I don't mind making the trek back east for the holidays even if it means I'll be without Hubs. But let's not make this a habit. And be prepared for snow because inevitably it'll snow directly and exclusively along our way there. That's just how it goes.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Ring ...

Canada isn't a foreign country. I would probably have less to write about if I told you what was different than similar - e.g. the currency (the tooney is my fave), the accent ('aboot' is my fave), the propensity for oil and gas development (no faves there), etc. Oh and the light switches are upside down - up is off and down is on - maybe that's just in this office though. But the most striking difference thus far is the telephone... or is it?

So, I'm sitting here working in my Hubs' office (PhD students have some pull around here) and the phone rings. I'm the only one here because Hubs has gone on a lunch date without me (yup, without me even though I've traveled from a FOREIGN COUNTRY to be with him) so I don't know what to do about this ringing phone. It's a land-line first of all so my born-again-virgin-land-line-user self didn't even know it was the phone at first. And secondly, it's the most unusual ring I've ever heard. And while it's been awhile since I've even heard a land-line ring, you can be sure they NEVER sounded like this one. It was a long howl with a scratchy grunt at the end as if a howling dog had a little too much to drink last night.

I wouldn't even blog about such a seemingly insigificant thing (because I usually reserve my blogs for VERY important matters) except that while Hubs and I were running the first day I arrived in Calgary, he paused to shake his head a bit. And then he looked at me puzzled and said, "Sometimes when I run, I get this click in my head. Can you hear it?" I responded with sympathy, of course, because that's what a good wife would do: "Sometimes when I run I can hear music in my head; like now - can you hear it?"

So maybe the telephone I think I'm hearing is the ringing in my head - or Hubs' head. I'll ask him when he returns from the lunch that I'm not eating.

Test Case

Although I was able to unpack my bags and put away my immigration papers after the historic event on November 4th, I am heading to Canada for a more extended stay with Hubs. I will stay for 10 days and work remotely from there through next week. I am excited to try this out. We committed that we would try this so that I won't have to use my vacation time to see Hubs for more than a weekend at a time here and there. Or the other option was to only see Hubs for a weekend at a time here and there. It was up in the air whether my boss would allow me to do this type of "new age" work arrangement. Turns out he is and this first time will be a test-case for whether I can do it again. Wish me luck!

Proud

November 4th was an historic event. This is how I first knew it for myself:

I volunteered as a poll watcher from 6:45 a.m. to 8:45 p.m. I watched voter after voter stand in line, present his/her I.D., accept a ballot and go vote in the booth. It was my role to work with the Election Judges and Chief Election Judge to ensure that every vote counted. And we, together, made the process work.

At one point in the steady but not busy afternoon, a family of four came in to vote. A man and woman, married, and their 4 children ranging in age from a girl of about 5 to the oldest boy of about 13. Two of the children, the youngest, I assumed were biological and the other two the oldest, I assumed, were adopted. They were the first two people of color to go through the line that day and the only ones as the day went on. They looked exactly alike so I also assumed they were brother and sister and had been with this family for a good long time because they were a cohesive unit.

They accompanied their parents to the voting booths "to learn the voting process" as they told us when they went through the line. While they were at the booths, I wondered who counseled whom, as their voices lifted above the room and to our ears: "...no, not that one; he has ugly hair." "Yeah, vote that one, that's who Dad is voting for..." And so on.

But the most touching part came as they exited the building. They trailed out one after another with smiles on their faces and our Dum Dum suckers in their mouths. The last out the door was the oldest adopted boy. He put his arm around his Dad and said, "So, Dad, how do you feel about me running for President someday?" To which is father said, "Yes, You Can." And they laughed as they went out the door.

That feeling never left me for the day and it was confirmed as a common feeling in our country by the many tear-streaked cheeks in the sea of faces in the crowds of support for our new President-Elect.

I slept well last night and didn't even awake to the text message I received at 12:45 a.m.: "We just made history. All of this happened because you gave your time, talent and passion to this campaign. All of this happened because of you. Thanks, Barack."

You're welcome, President. Thank you.

Halloween

Halloween is a Jakes family favorite. Yes, we like it better than Christmas, Easter, even Thanksgiving. So we dress up every year and go out - wherever we can find - to show off our costumes. Last night we dressed as Roxie Hart and Thelonius Knuckles. Check it out:

Couldn't Have Said It Better ...

In the New York Times, in an article about how Obama has inspired millions of black Americans to come out and vote. A quote: “I think it’s a testament to his campaign that he can inspire. At the end of the day, no matter what party you vote for, I think every once in a while there are inspirational moments that call for people to wake up from their deep sleep and become alive and get involved. And I think Barack at the very least is an inspirational figure.”

Well-Oiled Machine

I attended a training for the Legal Voter Protection Team for Obama's campaign last night. For 2 hours, we discussed our legal role in protecting a voter's right to vote and ensuring that every vote counts. Many points throughout the night I thought about how this felt like a Continuing Legal Education seminar rather than a volunteer training to learn my role for volunteering on Election Day/Night. They presented a power point presentation and had people conferenced in on the phone to get the benefit of the training. There were no shortage of questions about how we should handle situations where a voter is being turned away, intimidated, asked to vote a provisional ballot wrongly, or just plain harassed. We learned the rights of the voter so that we can represent them at every turn where something might go wrong. The Voter Protection Team leader and trainer, a lawyer himself, answered competently and thoroughly every question slung at him and never once mentioned a partisan slant to the information. I was fully impressed by the well-oiled machine that is the Obama campaign in Montana.

Even more, I was impressed by the integrity in which the information was presented and portrayed. I had to remind myself at one point that, YES, this IS the Obama campaign. There was no grandstanding about Obama, no bashing McCain, and not even one Palin joke was cracked though she's the most ripe for ridicule in my opinion. They were gracious and helpful and made it VERY CLEAR that our help is totally nonpartisan.

I got a glimpse into the way Obama will run the country and these words come to mind: honesty, integrity, helpful, organized, and competent. If he runs the country half as well as he does his campaign, we will be 10 times where we are now. I have no doubt.

Sleep Deprived?

I haven't slept well in about a week. I have analyzed the patterns in my life hoping to get some clue to why I spend my nights tossing and turning rather than sound asleep like a bear in my den for winter. I can't detect a pattern that makes sense but I considered a few things to figure it out.

First, I thought it was white wine. A couple glasses have kept me from falling asleep readily. But, I haven't drunk enough to keep me up for a WEEK?!?!? And I considered candy. Maybe I was eating candy too late in the evening and it's kept me up. Nope, I cut it out a few nights ago and still no sleep. Then I considered stress: Hubs is in another country, we live on one income, CDoc is living with me, work is Crazy, election coming up ... but none of this is new. Hubs has been gone for 2 months and we've lived on one income for that long now too. CDoc has been living with me for 2 months and it's been quite easy. Work is rarely NOT busy and has bordered on schizophrenic on and off for 10 years; nothing new there... And then there's the election. Could it be that? Obama is doing quite well in the polls (but YOU STILL MUST VOTE FOR IT TO CONTINUE THIS WAY). I worry about the final tally coming out like the one 8 years ago that put us into the dire situation we're facing now. So, while it could be this election, I feel like I'm usually able to handle these situations with little more than tearing off a few fingernails (which are gone, by the way). The patterns aren't adding up.

I've never had sleeping problems before. In fact, I can sleep in the middle of grizzly bear country with merely a sleeping bag and a nylon tent separating us; both of which would be like plastic wrapping on a meat package for a bear. When I awake with a start because I hear noise that could be a bear outside my tent, I tell myself that there's really nothing I can do at this time but ignore it and it'll go away. And I fall back to sleep.

But last night, I was able to sleep through most of the night. And I awoke this morning cozy in my bed with sleep still hanging on me. I didn't want to get up! The only thing I can think of that I did differently last night than any other night: I inadvertently left the heater on for half the night ... (GASP) This is something I have railed on Hubs for doing, claiming that I can't sleep in the hot, dry heated room. Hubs LOVES to be roasting under piles of blankets with cotton mouth and deep crevices in his face from the hot, dry air (I claim it causes wrinkles). And really, I usually can't sleep in that. But last night I awoke at 1 a.m. pissed off at myself for leaving the heater on. So, I stomped downstairs and turned it off and then opened my bedroom window just a wee bit. In seconds, I was back to sleep. Warmth, fresh air. Ahhhhh.

I think there has been a general lack of warmth in our house since Hubs has been gone. And maybe what I need is coziness of temperature if I can't have coziness of affection. Totally lame and I still won't tell Hubs, but it's all I can come up with ...

Whatever it is, I'm doing it again tonight.

YesWeCarve.com

Now this is the spirit of Halloween that I can get behind: Barack O' Lantern. Happy Halloween!

Vote For Change

I had to stomach another debate last night and this one was the worst. I ended up with a hoarse throat, my dogs left the room and wouldn't come back downstairs and CDoc and I could have taken on a whole sports bar during a NASCAR race or Sunday football. I couldn't find enough things to throw at my computer screen (NY Times aired it online) that wouldn't permanently damage the screen so I resorted to slinging eff-bombs. I was spitting mad (literally) and couldn't form words out of rage.

I haven't been this tuned into politics in a very long time and the rage I felt after the debate last night is a good reason why.

I will continue to believe in our American people that eight is enough and we'll vote for Change this time but WOW, don't make me sit through that again.

Obama Waving Freely

I am not at all surprised that McCain/Palin have to sink to low measures with lying and using propaganda against Obama's successful campaign. I am surprised though that that it's not working and that the American public can see through it. It's about time that we reject a campaign that spends more time and money on deceipt than policy. But it's disappointing that our little sleepy town isn't spared from the antics- Obama signs are disappearing on the same street where the other signs are still gaggingly displayed. Our sign is still happily waving in the Montana breeze and if anyone dares come near it, I'll unleash the dogs on them.

And Yes I Can

I am joining the ranks of my sister and her friends to blog about Obama. I've been admittedly obsessed with this campaign so I might as well embrace my fate and just blog about it too.


I have never thought a Presidential race was as important as it is today. I feel we stand at a crossroad with the option to keep going on as we have been down a spirally quagmire to which the end is dark and dreary. Or to take another path with a hopeful and bright journey awaiting. And it's never been more important that we take that other path. And so, I'm going to commit some of my time to writing about a man whom I think would take us proudly and competently down that new path to a better Amercia.


Corny, I know. But Obama inspires that hope for change in me.

Light and Fluffy

I was prepared to write another entry on politics and campaigns. However, it seems wrong to do that twice in a row without a little something light and fluffy in between. Instead, I need to know: What should I be for Halloween?

Surpassing the Low Bar

I am guilty of the same reaction the media had to Palin's performance in the debate last night. I thought she did alright. In fact, last night my reaction was fear and loathing of the month ahead and how much work the Dems have ahead of them to keep the popularity gap widending rather than narrowing. And then this morning I went to look at the Check Point article at New York Times and realized my reaction was tempered by the low standard to which I held her. She did not do well, she just didn't screw up. And that's a major difference. She didn't say anything substantive about her own veiws and when she did say something about her running mate's views, it was usually wrong. In fact, at one point, she said she hadn't been at this for very long so she hasn't promised too much. Well, she didn't help herself out last night either because she continued to promise the same rhetoric about hockey moms and standing up to those big oil companies. And while she's probably going to hold true to her hockey mom rhetoric, she is way off base claiming that she ever stood up to oil companies or will ever in the future. I find it interesting that she makes a promise to do so under the same breath that she corrected Biden's mistake on her favorite chant: DRILL, BABY, DRILL. Palin, according to Check Point, spoke many untruths about Obama, her running mate, AND HERSELF. Granted, Biden had some missteps for which he'll be accountable as well, but Palin's outnumbered Biden's by 2:1.

I hope the American people can see through the credit they're giving Palin on the debate last night like I have. She sounded no more like a Vice President than Bush sounds like a President.

And that's what scares me...

The Gift of Small Things

I stole this from a favorite blog called Dooce. If you don't read anything else this week or this month, you should read this. You won't be sorry ... unless you forgt your kleenex first. (If you tried the link before and it didn't work, try it again. I think I've fixed it.)

The Ladies: Backpack

Two weekends ago, I took my first backpack of the season. My foot doc made it very unclear about exactly when I could go backpacking since my surgery. The end of the summer after Labor Day seemed like a good long while to let my foot heal. It was a great trip.

The Ladies decided to skip the Beartooths this time due to inclement (blizzard) weather and go to the other side of the state on the border of Montana and Idaho. Stanley hot springs is a popular destination but we'd figured that we might have some luck as sole hikers given that it was late in the season.

The Ladies were very gracious taking weight from me (see the size of my backpack compared to theirs) so that I didn't have to worry about putting too much weight on my foot the first time out.

We traveled to a campsite close to the trailhead on Friday night. We stopped at Lolo Hot Springs to have some dinner and a $1.50 Bayern beer - YUM! We camped in the VW van and there it was that I pledged my lifelong love and devotion to the Volkswagon van. Remember friends and family how I told you to commit me to some mental help if I ever decide to buy a van? Let me amend that request to EXCLUE the VW van. It is the BOMB.

That night we sat around drinking another beer before we crawled into our cozy, comfortable, cushiony beds (in the Van) and marveled at the SIZE of the trees. No kidding. At one point, we argued about whether it was a shadow cast from some unknown light (did I mention we had beers?) or a real tree. Finally we decided it was a real-live-honest-to-goodness tree on steroids.

We got to the trailhead and headed on down the trail. It was overcast but didn't rain on us and actually was quite warm on a couple areas on the trail exposed to the sun. It was warm enough to allow a fellow hiker, on his way OUT thankfully, to be hiking BUCK naked. Well ... with the exception of his boots and his backpack. Or I'm assuming he was wearing boots because I didn't look long enough or close enough to figure out what he was wearing - just what he was NOT wearing.

We hiked about 5 miles into the hot springs and were pleasantly surprised by how nice they were. We were unpleasantly surprised by how disgusting the camps were near the hot springs - toilet paper, food packages, trash. We found a spot perched up above the hot springs and camped there. It was nice and close to a small stream where we could get our water for filtering and back far enough from the main trail to keep us from being seen by every hiker along the way.

We soaked in the hot springs both nights while we sipped on the wine we'd earned from the hike. My foot felt especially good after a nice hot soak. And you can see how hot by the foggy look created by the warm water and cool air. Ahhh, so nice.


We kept our camp in the same place both nights. And the second day we decided to start off toward Lottie Lake. The topo map indicated about 4 miles to the lake and we were determined to get there ... until about 2.5-3 miles in and 1800 feet. We'd quietly, without complaint climbed and climbed, but finally decided we'd hike for 15 more minutes and then decide how much further to go. It's difficult to give up the idea of a destination after putting in that much work. On our final 15 minute ascent, we were literally HIT IN THE FACE by huckleberry bushes. FULL of berries. SCORE. Our destination - we need not go any further.

We picked and picked and picked and picked - filled a ziploc bag even after stuffing our faces while we picked. Once we recognized the bushes (because they'd slapped us in the face), we saw them for as far as the eye could see. It was then we realized the mistake of our quiet ascent. A bear's wet dream.

On our hike back out the final day, Monday, we were sad to go. My foot felt great, I was carrying even more weight than I'd packed in and we'd had a great time with The Ladies. On the ride home in the Van, I remember thinking, in my semi-drunk 2-beer state, while I was jamming to the tunes slung by DJ AP: I love ladies and am so glad to be one in the midst of such cool ones doing such cool things in a cool place I call home.

Thanks ladies.

Grandmaw

I spent the last four days in KC with Hubs and family while we said goodbye to dear, sweet Grandmaw Mary. And while she was an amazing 91 years young, the family was shocked to see her go because she was told she had years to live. She did her own crosswords puzzles, still lived in the house where she raised her children and married the love of her life. She still mowed the lawn and got her own groceries. My only contribution to her regular crossword puzzle on the weekend a year ago where I got to know Grandmaw, was the answer Britney to the clue Pop-star Spears. She finished the rest of the puzzle without help She was curious and inquisitive about life until the day she passed on.

Grandmaw would have smiled that big smile if she'd seen the gaggle of grandchildren and great grandchildren that gathered to honor her. We even got to hear a recording of her voice to the oldest cousin in her once-per-year ritual message to all of her granchildren on the eve of their birthdays: "Goodnight you little 39-year old."

Rest in peace, sweet Grandmaw. May the lesson of your life carry on through your children, our children and the rest of those you've touched. I feel blessed to have gotten to know you.

And Then Comes Marriage ...

Last night I finally heard my phone rining, with my see-star JDoc's very own ring, at 8:50 p.m. my time which is 9:50 p.m. her time. I had a moment's worry that it was an emergency because she just doesn't call that often and when I got to my phone there were 5 calls. And then, AND THEN I REALIZED. She's engaged. My little sister; engaged. I knew it because Doc boyfriend gave some very big hints to FamDoc in the recent past (not recent enough if you ask me ;-)) and so I knew it with my very being that this was the call I'd been waiting for.

And I was right.

Doc boyfriend proposed to see-star JDoc on a boat on the St. Croix river last night. He stuffed the ring into a cracker box and until JDoc discovered it she wondered why the hell Doc boyfriend was so interested in crackers all of a sudden. He took pics of the box while ignoring the gorgeous bluffs and he ate cracker after cracker and ignored the chicken salad sammies they'd prepared for dinner.

And then JDoc dug in and discovered something down there. She repeated, "WHAT IS THAT?" a few times knowing full well what it was. But finally she dug into the now-depleted cracker box and pulled out the ring. After all the excitement of kissing, hugging, crying and modeling the ring in the way JDoc does this sort of thing, she realized that there was something missing. So SHE finally asked HIM, "Will you marry me?" He said yes. JDoc wanted to hear the words too so he repeated the question to her. And she said YES!

And that's how their relationship will be ... she'll take over where he leaves off; they'll fit together so nicely; and he'll be there for her when she really needs it. Perfect start to a very long life of happily ever after.

Congrats JDoc and Welcome to the DocFam Dave. I am so honored to be a part of your beautiful story.

Readers ...

I am currently wearing my new reader glasses. They aren't bifocals like the Eye Doc suggested. Rather, they are the reading glasses you find on a twisty rack with frames in a rainbow of colors that are generally reserved for the geriatric population. The only ones I could find, until I received a tip from a co-worker, were ones with rhinestone paw prints in the corners of the frame, or the ones with bright blue cat print for frames, or my favorite, the metal silver frames the size of the popular sunglasses that cover to mid-forehead and down to the lower cheek; cool for sunglasses, not so cool perched on my nose while reading.

And even though I've found reading glasses per se, I haven't been able to easily find the low-strength glasses I need: 1.00. Apparently the reading glasses industry tailors their styles AND strength for the advanced age and therefore, advanced need for magnifying. There are a variety of styles for the 2.00 to 3.50 strength. I tried them and thought they might cause seizures; one should never operate machinery while wearing those things.

Thankfully, I described my situation - not picky; don't really care what they look like; not ridiculous; and definitely not rhinestones - to a co-worker friend and she suggested my favorite grocery store - the Real Food Store. I rushed straight there. There were the usual advanced age styles and strength but if you looked close enough, and I did, there were semi-stylish-not-ridiculous tortoise-shelled 1.00 strength reading glasses tucked in and away where no one ever looked; I think they were even dusty.

I may not look geriatric; but I look serious and very wise (and scary?) ...

On What I'll Look Like With Glasses Perched On My Nose ...

Internet, it's been so long ...

Yesterday I visited the eye doc. He told me that my prescription had changed only slightly and that my eyes look generally healthy. Except when I told him that my eyes were more blurry and tired lately, he told me that they just needed a little help from the strain I put on them all day. Oh, okay. What help can I give them? To which he responded, "BIFOCALS."

Oh sweet Jesus.

Yep, I have to wear those glasses that sit on your nose for reading and computer work (which is generally ALL I EVER DO!). They remind me of my 6th grade science teacher who was probably a very sweet lady but she invoked the fear of death in us because of how serious those glasses made her look. She also had a chain that held them around her neck so that every now and again she could take them off and they would stay put around her neck. But she never did take them off so it just served to make her look even MORE serious and more witch-like. I think she reveled in the idea that no one would DARE forget that photosynthesis made plants green if she just looked the part of a witch and didn't have to invoke those powers against us.

Looking back, Ms. Breding was nothing but nice to us and I learned a great deal from her - including how to win points to earn some fruit roll-ups (another story). But the way she looked with those perched glasses never did leave me...

Another Gem

Time for another gem from the "Friendly" neighborhood convenience store ...

I was standing at the counter and someone approached behind me and asked, "What does that say on your back?" I explained that the tattoo symbol on my back meant, "Peace and Harmony." To which he replied, "Cool."

Seconds later, he was out of his shirt displaying his tattoo on the same place on his upper back which he described as the John 3:16 Bible verse written in Sanskrit. To which I responded, "Cool."

And because it was a large tattoo, I asked the common question, "Did that hurt?" To which I got a not-so-common answer: "Well, I got it in prison so it probably hurt more than it should have."

About Time

I met Adrienne Mabel yesterday for the first time. She's the beautiful big blue-eyed baby girl of my BFF. She FINALLY had her baby girl yesterday and I was there for the whole birth.

BFF exhibited her strength, willpower and endurance yesterday. During the labor and birth, the nurses were amazed at how calm and collected she labored through the whole process. She moaned a few pains and asked a few times, "Why won't this baby come out?" But it in the end, she never strayed from her calm, collected will to get through and have a beautiful baby in the end. She made the 12 hours of labor and Three Hours of Pushing look like it wasn't the most painful experience she's ever had. And I think she would tell you, by the looks of her gaze into her baby's eyes, that it was all worth it.

Given how long this labor took and how many Hours she had to Push, it is no wonder that Adrienne came out holding onto the umbilical cord for dear life. The jokes flew about how she didn't want to come out and was going to crawl back up there. The Doc even joked that her other hand was flipping him off. But I think it really meant that she slid down the rope (which is what the cord looked like) and announced, "TA DA. Here I am."

To which we all responded, BFF resounding over the rest of us, "It's about time."

HUBS!

Hubs is coming home today! He's been gone for almost two weeks and I'm just getting accustomed to it. Now he'll be here for 6 sleeps over our 1st anniversary. I'll probably get accustomed to him being home again. And then he'll leave. Isn't there some drug I could take to get used to this?

Follow-Up

I rolled into my 2d acupuncture appointment much more relaxed than I thought I would. On my way over, I conjured up my most relaxing thoughts and was able to settle those anxious feelings a tad before I subjected myself to more needle torture. I secretly hoped that would mean I didn't have to get the series of needles in my back that were intended to clear the toxins from my body.

Contrary to my plan, I got the series of needles in my back. But this time, they didn't hurt at all; a good sign that the toxins were cleared from my body. I was told that due to the clean and healthy life I led over the weekend (ahem, choke), my body kept releasing the toxins even after their medium (the needles) were gone. I think someone should invent a way to make pillows and cushions be the medium that the body needs to release toxins.

Post toxin release, she poked me with a few more needles that were intended to release the block in my arm keeping my energy from flowing throughout; the flow of energy that is necessary to heal injuries or release stress naturally. Immediatly upon insertion and extraction of each needle from my wrist, the side of my face near the triangle part of the outer ear, and from the inner-eye (YES INNER EYE), I could feel a sensation that was so much like a removal of a plug that released a deluge of stuff from inside. I felt cleared in the same way you get relief when your nose finally unplugs after days of sniffling and breathing through your mouth. In one area, near the triangle of the outer ear, in the void left when you open your jaw, she missed the "meridian" where she intended to place the needle. I didn't feel a thing. By contrast, when she placed the needle in the "meridian," a mere hair from the original placement, I confirmed my belief in the values of acupuncture. I felt, this time, an extremely intense release of a plug and then subsequent flow that hasn't stopped since my appointment yesterday.

I felt GREAT when I left. I still have the tingling sensation in my fingers but the arm pain is gone. I don't know how it's done or whether there are studies on the science of acupuncture, but it doesn't matter; feeling is believing.

No Pain, No Gain

I've been having this weird sensation in my left arm. It started as a knot underneath my left shoulder blade; a place it regularly shows up when I'm stressed. Hubs usually puts pressure on it once per day 'til it sees fit to leave; usually 4 days later. This knot, however, got worse every time Hubs touched it (which will turn out to be a good excuse for his absent back rubs, I'm sure). Soon, I couldn't even find where the knot was located because it was buried in the pain which radiated up and down my shoulder blade. I could only get relief when I'd put pressure on another totally unrelated location behind my shoulder and behind my elbow. The final straw came at the end of weeks of dealing with this when my fingers got tingly and numb.

So I made an acupuncture appointment and went to the first one last week. My appointment was 2 hours 45 minutes long. She took my entire physical and emotional history. She did diagnostic tests that consisted of waving a hot wand over my fingers and toes to measure the balance on my two sides. She took a pulse from each of my wrists and could tell there was a difference in the two sides of my body that indicated something wrong. In the end I was told that I have toxins in my body that need to be realeased. Once the toxins are released, she needs to clear a block that is not allowing my arm to heal naturally through energy transport through my body. All this, of course, with the use of needles.

I had needles running up and down my back that were inserted through a plastic sheath that punctures a mere 1/8 or less of an inch into my skin. Some I didn't even feel, others felt like I was getting stabbed. Where there was pain, there were toxins that were using the needle as a medium to exit my body. She used another series of needles on my wrist and then on my underarms; obviously a very tender part of my body.

The wrist needles didn't hurt a bit until she barely turned them and pulled them out. It felt as though she was pulling something out of my arm. And the same went for the underarm torture. I felt as though she'd stabbed my heart through my underarm and then she pulled it out with the needles. I'm obviously being dramatic because there wasn't even a needle mark left in its place. And like I said, they were in less than 1/8 of an inch. But if the pain was any measure of the amount of toxins in there, I think she's in for a flood of toxin release.

I have another appointment in 45 minutes to release the remaining toxins she couldn't remove with the first appointment. I hope this treatment is the last because I am feeling a bit anxious about it. But just as a follow-up, these past days were the first of many many days that I didn't have pain in my shoulder when I sneezed or coughed. I think that's a good sign.

I will report the follow-up tomorrow.

Biking Betty

I think I'll be a Biking Betty this summer. Our sleepy little town of Helena becomes a mountain biking mecca for many during the summer. And I haven't, admittedly, taken advantage of the greatness that is the biking circuit here in my own home town because of the fear factor that gets me every time. But this summer is going to be that summer where I look fear in the eye and then I'm going to kick his ask.

And to start, I'm going to join the ladies group called Biking Betties that goes every Tuesday at 5:30 to ride the trails in Helena. I have no doubt that it'll only prove to help my skills immensely and maybe by the end of the summer, I will do a ride without getting bruised.

I went this morning for the first time this year. And I fell enough times to appreciate the value of being upright. But I didn't fall enough to increase my fear factor. So, I can safely say that I just want to get back in the saddle again and show that mountain that it ain't gonna get me for long!

On Her Own Time

I haven't had anyone really close to me have a baby in my life; nor have I had one myself. But my BFF, the one with whom I share everything including my brain, is having a baby and she's overdue by at least 6 days and counting. I am quite excited, nervous, anxious to finally meet the little girl who will look like, act like, and learn from my BFF which means she'll most definitely be an amazing, beautiful, smart little girl. OH and did I mention stubborn?

We've taken walks; we've eaten spicy food; we've even threatened to take her on the back of a bus down York Road to bounce her out. No show. BFF's done squats, yoga, walked down the block bouncing up and down on the curb looking undoubtedly ridiculous. Nothing. BFF and the Papa have practiced some other unmentionably personal things. To no avail. BFF has pushed on her belly and gotten foot rubs and generally just practiced everything in the book to persuade that little girl out of her growing belly. NADA. I've tried to coax her out with song, dance and discussion. Still nothing.

I think she's just stubborn.

My prediction for this child is that she'll just do things on her own time. Like her Mama.

Nostalgia

I shared my plans with Hubs about a month ago while on vacation to find high school BFF and surprise her with a call. I predicted that although we hadn't been in contact for a Good Long Time, that we would be snotty-nosed and crying with laughter as we discussed the memorably idiotic things we did together as teens.

Not surprisingly, I forgot about these plans when I returned home to Life and its craziness that got in the way of any well-laid plans.

And then last week, I got a call from a friend from law school with whom I regularly studied, out of the blue. I was shocked and elated at connecting with someone from my past. So, I vowed to finally get in touch with high school BFF to have that same reconnection with her. THIS MORNING while in the shower where I do my best thinking (and burping, but that's another story), I decided today is the day to do some searching online and do some calling of her family whom I knew to still be back in The Bis where we grew up.

I'm sure, Internet, you can figure out where I'm going from here - I got to my office this morning to three phone messages; one of which was BFF! NO kidding! I barely finished the message before I hastily dialed the return call. We connected and spoke for a good 40 minutes as though no time had passed between us. And I was right - we snortled and chortled and tears rolled down my cheeks as we discussed the significant and very important times we shared in high school.

And then, of course, we shared the more important times in our adult lives as well - houses, marriages, a BABY! But the connection I felt to BFF and our past was almost tangible. There is something to be said about having someone in my life that has a record of me at a time when I didn't quite know myself. It was a reminder that I've come a long way since that time and that I'd love to go back and have those chortling snorting tear-filled kinds of laughs again. I vowed to keep in touch with high school BFF and make some new memories that we could laugh heartily about when we're much much older.

2 Days Notice

Hubs is heading out east for his field work sometime this week. It's been emotional just to think of him leaving the house and not actually residing here with me for a long time. I know this is best for us and we'll get through this fabulously and probably be closer than we are now. And it might actually be fun (remind that I said that when I'm whining about not seeing him for weeks at a time). NOT FUN that I'll be missing my partner, my best friend, my lover for weeks at a time; but fun that I'll get to know a couple other cities when I spend $4+ per gallon to visit him in Glasgow and Calgary; the latter of which might take me 4 years to know and the former of which I might know in 2.2 hours.

Needless to say, the anticipation and uncertainty of it all is the worst part of growing accustomed to this arrangement (I hope). However, I'm still anticipating it and I'm still uncertain so maybe I don't have any authority yet to declare what has been the worst part.

To make matters worse, two days (today) before he leaves town to start field work (Wednesday) near Glasgow and live in a trailer donated (for free) to his study by one of the funding partners, he was informed that the trailer is no longer available and he has to find an apartment to live. I'm a bit ambivalent about this for good reason. It could be nice because I will be able to visit him and stay in a place that has flushing toilets and a shower. But it might not be so nice because although apartments may be cheap in Glasgow, they are not cheaper than free and Hubs will be making exactly ZERO dollars for the next 4 years.

And thus, I'm anticipating what he will find for an apartment with 2 days notice and I'm uncertain how we'll pay for it.

Such is life for the next 4 years ...

Home

Wow! It's been a long time. I'm back Internet. I'll post more later about the Trials of The Brief, but for now, I have to say that it's really nice to be home.

Thunder and Lightning

I grew up in Bismarck, North Dakota. On a regular basis during my childhood, the clouds rolled in from miles away - maybe even 100 miles away and I could witness every inch of its approach. Montana calls itself The Big Sky State but I beg to differ. There is nothing to make you feel smaller than the approach of gigantic looming billowing clouds against a dark and ominous sky. It's as if you were about to be devoured by alien spaceships as they land on Earth in the air and space upon which you stand. I remember very well the childhood memory of oscillating between fear and awe as they approached overhead. I get sad that this occurance doesn't trigger my memories very often anymore given the state of our warming globe. Back in the day, it was almost every other day during the summer that precipitation threatened to bring me inside sooner than I would have liked.

Today, we had a thunderstorm. And while I sat in my office and the little window behind me seemed to let in less light, I realized that the sky was darkening. Within the time it took for me to get up, move about 50 feet to the entrance of the building so that I could take a look, the thunder struck and the lightning flashed. And as I stood there for about 20 more seconds to watch its performance, the clounds parted and the sun shone; hardly the extra-terrestrial experience I had as a child. Knowing that I have global warming to blame, I felt robbed of the simple pleasure of fear and anticipation of a good thunderstorm.

But even as I realized that global warming has taken so much, the smell of rain that lingered in the air allowed me to linger in nostalgia for a little longer...

Dog Punt

Today, I ran outside! This is an accomplishment given that I have heretofore been able to run just 25 mins on the treadmill and that's, let's face it, just not the same thing. Anything that is propelling my legs to move whether I exert the effort or not is hardly the same as moving my own damned dimply, weak, wiggly leg on my own. The only drawback to running outside was the YET ANOTHER yippy, little wiry-haired asshole dog that came running at me and Sake and scared both of us almost enough that we lept across the street in a single bound. And once again, when I screamed at the dog to "GET AWAY! GO! GET OUT OF HERE!," the owner fell all over herself to apologize as she scampered after the dumb thing. I didn't say anything to her but hurried my dog away noticing that his hair was standing on end and his lip was quivering; the sure sign of his usual dumb-dog-that-bites-my-legs-so-I-kick-his-ass attitude. I was thankful that I didn't react as I did the last time this happened. And that was to tell the owner, in a clenched teeth, barely containing myself way, "I WILL kick that thing all the way to hell if you don't get it away from me."

Where the deer and the antelope play ...

Given my propensity for strange dreams when there are significant changes in my life about to occur, I have been especially prone to them lately. Hubs has decided to get his PhD from the U. of Calgary, yes, CDoc, as in Canada. And because this is a major change in lifestyle for the two of us, I have had strange dreams.

One dream, not long ago, Hubs was having an affair with a horribly ugly professor at the U who said, "a boot" rather than "about." And then last night, I had a dream that I tried for days to contact Hubs and he couldn't be reached. When I finally got in touch with Hubs in my dream, he explained his disappearance from society as his decision to live in the wild with the antelope where he could, as he told me, "Run free from government intrusion in his life spanning corridors and migrate for as far as 500 miles without oil and gas development to be seen."

It didn't make sense in my dream either but it was an exhibit of the very sparse facts I know about the project upon which he'll be spending his next 4 years.

I think in both dreams, he was cheating on me - one with a woman and the other with the antelope.

They got me ....

I subscribe to the daily tips on www.idealbite.com which is an eco-friendly website that claims to make living green a more hip thing to do. The site includes some funny quirky things to make it more interesting to read; probably part of its "hip"ness. One of the Daily Tidbits, entitled "Getting Sauced" suggested some organic sauces to try. They provide a "Personally Speaking" opinion about it such as: "We taste-tested the Soy Vay Teriyaki Sauce and all agreed: You could put this stuff on anything - even a shoe - and it'd still taste good." They even warn against the use by under-18-year-olds because of its "saucy" language - right up my aisle, I'd say.

But one day I opened the Daily Tidbit and it told me this: "Yes, yes, yes! Everyone knows to turn used condoms inside-out for another go, but with a quick rinse, you can save additional latex and cash by using condoms three times before chucking 'em, instead of just two. Recycling just got 33% sexier."

And I couldn't believe what I was reading. Are you SERIOUS? Reusing condoms? We've joked about reusing condoms but people ACTUALLY do it (yes, I know they "do it" but I didn't know they'd "do it" with a used condom).

I kept reading: "The Benefits: Making cents while making love. Think of all the pennies you coulda saved if you'd adopted this tip during your slutty phase in college."

WOW, this really is funny and HIP. But seriously?

And then in the Personally Speaking section: "Condoms can tear during rinsing even if you're careful, so be gentle. That said, we've been doing this for years, and it's resulted in only three unexpected pregnancies. "

And then I looked at the date: April 1, 2008.

Tickle

I had nothing to fear but fear itself. Well, it wasn't that dramatic. But I've had dreams about my leg being virtually cut off from the saw that removes casts. Today when they removed the cast from my leg, the only sensation I had was a little tickle. It's a vibrating saw that doesn't hurt a bit but I wasn't convinced until the nurse demonstrated on her arm. And then it tickled. Quite amazing really.

And the smell they all warn you about - it wasn't there. Sure, I had flakes of skin everywhere and my skin looks as though it may molt off and leave me with nothing but bone. But there was no smell and it didn't look so bad. Don't get me wrong, there are scarred and scabbed incisions, swollen tissues and wrinkled skin. But my foot is looking pretty good considering the turmoil it's gone through in the past six and a half weeks.

The bad news is that I still have to stay off my of foot for another week and a half. I am happy to oblige given that I don't have a cast and I can take a shower - HALLELUJAH! But I won't be able to start the process of learning to walk again - not for another week and half at least.

The good news is that my x-rays look great. Doc displayed the before and after films and it's shocking to the see the transformation my foot has undergone. The gravity of my foot's deformity in those before x-rays makes me realize that I've done the right thing with this surgery. It's any wonder I could walk on that foot; let alone run, backpack and bike.

And now I can wear all my socks again. Exciting.

Flakiness

ONE MORE SLEEP until I get this *&%!(*#%#&( cast removed - I haven't spared the story for anyone who even happens to glance at my crutches.

The thing to which I'm looking most forward is, interestingly, descaling my leg and foot. I made the mistake of peeling an innocent-looking flake of skin on my toe and pulled a piece of skin the length of my second toe off the back. I couldn't stop there and continued to peel and now it looks like I have scales. Disgusting. I had to put a sock over it to make myself stop peeling for fear that I would have no skin left on my toes. I guess that's how much skin we flake off naturally when it has somewhere to go rather than in my sock or cast.

I'm soooo looking forward to the sight and smell of my leg under the cast tomorrow.

HB 2 U

Yesterday was my see-star's birthday. She is 27. We were at a grocery store and ran into a man with whom I work. He was surprised to hear here age as he thought she was turning 17.

Happy Birthday Cdoc. I love you.

6 more sleeps ...

... until I get my cast off. I may start counting the minutes and seconds too.

But I have to wonder how they'll saw off this cast without cutting my leg. I'm sure I'll have a dream about that soon enough...

Slow moving ...

The only thing I've been able to catch lately is a cold. I have become quite capable on my crutches - even impressed Hubs with my graceful (hardly) jig forward, backward and sideways. Even though I'm capable, I'm still slow and unable to carry much.

Today, feeling sorry for myself because I'm feeling under the weather, Hubs stopped at a convenience store to let me get a chocolate treat to make me feel a bit better. Hubs stayed in the car. So, while inside, I realized that I had no way to get my treats from across the store to the counter to pay for them. The only thing I could do was put them inside my purse. As I approached the counter, I barely beat the other customer there - a police officer standing in line right behind me. As I removed the treats from my purse, I proclaimed, "I really could get myself in trouble for this but I have no other way to transport them to the counter." In good humor, the police officer responded, "Well, you wouldn't be that difficult to catch anyway."

Happy Jig

It's a milestone in recovery when your foot doesn't hurt anymore. I didn't think it would take a MONTH to hit that milestone. But alas, no more pain. Generally now, I just dream about rotating my ankle and stretching my leg.

The other night, I dreamt that I had returned from a long run and had to stretch afterward - which is definitely a dream given my lackadaisical attitude toward stretching after spending that much time running. And apparently the clarity of my dream alerted my body to respond and I stretched in my sleep and caused a cramp in my calf underneath my cast. Poor Hubs was jerked out of sleep with my screech and his reaction was, "What did I do?" Poor guy must worry about hitting my foot in his sleep. There was nothing I (or he) could do to get rid of the cramp except writhe in pain and hope it went away. It did and I decided that my bad attitude about stretching is probably better for me in my sleep.

Exactly once ...

As I've made abundantly clear, I'm on crutches. And I can't do much. I can't even drive. I've become accustomed to asking for and accepting help which isn't an easy thing for my independant, self-reliant, stubborn self.

With all the help in the world, though, I still can't work out much. But I've tried ... exactly once. I think it could have been a very funny submission to Funniest Home Videos had someone been lucky enough to catch it on film: one-legged squats, push-ups hanging from the bed, leg lifts with an elastic band attached to my cast, and running-like motions suspended on my crutches positioned perfectly to fall on the bed should I lose my balance. I made sure to attempt this feat of balance when Hubs was out of town so not to subject myself to ridicule or filming. Even though it wasn't the type of workout I would do if I were back on my feet again, I think mostly it made me feel like I was doing something to get myself a little closer to normal ... baby steps. No pun intended.

Torn ...

I've been counting down until the 2008 election when our country has the chance to redeem itself and get rid of the EM EFFER in office. As of now, it's 253 days, 6078 hours - it's so exciting that I even know the minutes from now - 364679. And it's no secret that I dream of revisiting that day when we can elect a Pres with a D after his/her name. If there's a God ... I won't go there - no need to mix politics and religion - that's another story.

I'm torn internally about whether I want to see the names Hillary or Barack before the D on my election ballot in November. And I guess it's a good thing that I'm torn and wouldn't object to either one of them leading my country. But I generally have strong opinions about who to follow and what they should or should not be doing. And I don't have strong opinions either way. I am not happy with the recent reports of Barack getting sloppy with his campaign flyers - let's not stoop to levels generally reserved for the Repugs. But I also get excited about the "change" that Barack promises and that I don't feel with Hillary. Although, truth be known, a change in the health system is enough to make me excited about Hillary. For now, at the end of the day for me, I keep going back to what I've heard about the environment and reproductive choice in her policies from Hillary and what I haven't even heard mention from Barack. But apparently, the campaign is still open and we may not know what D we'll support for a week or two.

If you have any information that will help sway me one way or another (but don't even try to convince me that the Repugs will do anything but disappoint and anger me), let me know. Until then, I'll continue searching for that information ...

Just a phase ...

Hubs and I have had some ups and downs during this recovery period. He is the sole person upon whom I rely for most of the things I can't do because I'm on crutches and can't put weight on my foot. What that means is that I can't do things like laundry, cook dinner, do dishes and take the dogs for walks. For the most part, I try to pitch in where I can but the reality is that I can only stand around on one foot for a short amount of time before I end up unbalanced and on the verge of teetering over. I've obviously gotten better at this as my recovery has progressed.

Because I rely on Hubs for most of these things, he gets a little frustrated and can't help but let me know. Which means that I consistently feel like a burden - not a good feeling when I'm already feeling down because I can't go outside and I can't work out. I mostly understand where he's coming from and forgive him before he apologizes, but it's a little wearisome.

In a breakthrough moment when we finally came to some accord on the situation, Hubs grabbed a Sharpie and signed my cast with the messsage in the picture here. It warmed my heart and made me realize that I can endure this phase for just another 2.5 weeks and I'll be back on my feet again and we'll have a happy household again.

Happy Birthday Papa

Today is my Papa's 59th birthday. He doesn't act a day over 30. Happy 30th Birthday Papa. I love you.

Miss You Already ...

Hubs needed a vacation in a bad way. So last week he flew out and went to the east to "hang with his boys." And since I'm not yet totally self-sufficient, Mama took pity on me and flew out to "hang with her girl."

It was a really nice weekend. We had a very busy schedule of movies, crosswords puzzles, eating and hanging out. We got out of the house exactly once when KM, MC, and AM took pity on us and picked us up for lunch. Unsurprisingly, Mama washed my clothes, took my dogs for regular walks and vacuumed my floors - all things that are either impossible or difficult on crutches.

When I profusely thanked Mama for coming to take care of me, her response was, "You're welcome. You'd do it for me." You're right, Mama, I would and I will. Thank you.

Just What You Want To Hear!

Through all of the ups and downs of pain, depression, wobbling on crutches, and frustrations of recovery, the thing that has moved me to write today is the first normal bowel movement since surgery. I never before knew the trials and tribulations of the uninvited, unwanted and totally abhorred Constance. I asked Mama Doc whether she'd ever remembered me having problems when young and she confirmed that I'd been perfectly "normal" in this regard for my entire life ... until January 25.

Today, I went through all the normal stages of a bowel movement - that feeling of movement, some gaseous production, wobbling to the bathroom (remember the crutches), and I sat down and did my business within minutes, maybe even SECONDS.

Thank goodness I'm back to normal ... relatively speaking, of course.

Warning: Spoiler

A week ago, I was without cable television. In fact, I was without a television that got anything but white noise and played movies with DVD for the past 10 years. The television hasn't been switched to TV mode from the DVD mode at least since I moved to this place 2.5 years ago as we don't even get the 3 or 4 channels with rabbit ears. When someone asked whether I'd seen this or that commercial, I never had. And when people get into conversations about this sitcom or that; this series or that, I would stare blankly and blink a few times. I usually then took the opportunity to express my pride at having chosen books, crossword puzzles and the internet over television; a far inferior choice, no doubt.

As of a week ago, we got cable and have over 160 channels. I'm officially addicted to HGTV. I fully blame it on having been sentenced to a week in the house on my couch recuperating from foot surgery. But there is nothing I can do but admit my addiction and move on from there. I love Divine Design, House Hunters, Design To Sell and anything else that happens to grace the schedule on HGTV. And I really do love TLC when they show things like What Not To Wear and yes, I've even watched Love That Dress where a bride goes to the most expensive bridal shop in the world and gets to pick whatever she wants as money is no object. And then I've discovered the National Geographic Channel and its Dog Whisperer show where I get tips on how to train my dog even though I likely won't do any of it esp. in my seemingly permanent horizontal position.

And then today, I watched a whole marathon of The Biggest Loser; UK. I was disgusted with myself but couldn't tear myself away. In fact, Hubs happened down the stairs and expressed his horror at my choice of shows and soon thereafter, was totally enthralled and we cheered against each other for who to win - I wanted Mark to win, he wanted Martin.

After my conversation with Sis JDoc last night wherein I mentioned my three hour stint of What Not to Wear (and we appropriately named it the What Not To Wearathon), I felt the need to confess today's stint of The Biggest Loser. She chuckled mostly to herself and then said, "Becky, I don't want to spoil the ending for you, but I think we already know who the biggest loser is here."

Actually, JDoc, no worries about spoiling: Aaron was the biggest loser.

I'd Get Up and Do A Cheer But Who Wants A One-Footed Cheerleader?

I had a great night last night. I slept well without the cocktail of drugs necessary in the not-so-distance past. My foot hasn't been miserable in the last 24 hours and I've been able to sit upright for more than an hour without causing excessive pain. AND I haven't called the Doc since yesterday morning. I think this is the best day of recovery thus far. I hope it continues to get better.

And prune juice killed Constance too. She is no longer a nuisance to me although Hubs might have preferred Constance to what he's enduring now.

And for the first time in 6 days, I can worry about something other than pain. Like taking a bath, washing my hair and brushing my teeth ...

Sentence

I think we could sentence criminals to lying on their back with their foot propped up and the order to stay that way until hell freezes over. I think that's how long I've been lying here. And subject them to crutches and an aching foot and then put them in a small room with a farting, poop-eating dog that you can't escape quickly. It's an appropriate punishment for almost anything.

I have been passing my time with a number of things that are also becoming quite a bore. Like this one:

Even the best book gets boring when it's all you can do ... And like this:

Luckily, I have a book of 200 crosswords so when I get bored with one, I just move on to the next esp. because my crossword puzzle dictionary is two floors up and that's just too much work to get.

Luckily, I can use this to pass my time too:

And lucky for you all, the subject is consistent: "Pity Me."

Most of all though, what would I do without this? Thanks buddy.

Constance

An unannounced and not so welcome visitor to my surgery recovery is, what I have affectionately called Constance, known better to others as constipation. The pain meds aren't all they're cracked up to be ...

I tried the fruits and veggie suggestion for a couple days hoping that it would ferret out Constance without too much trouble - no results to write home about (or write here about). So, last night, Hubs dug out my old pink box of Correctol - relief in a box, or so I thought. The box says, "Gentle, overnight relief." The only true word in that statement is "overnight."

I hadn't eaten much yesterday because I have no way to work up an appetite yet in this first lie-on-my-back-with-foot-propped-up stage of recovery. So, on an empty stomach, I took two tablets and went to bed. And while the night wore on and my meds wore off, I also took two pain meds on an empty stomach.

Realizing my mistake, I stuffed a half column of saltines in my face hoping that it wasn't too late. It was too late.

At about 3:30 a.m., I ended up on the toilet with a wastebasket on my lap. Needless to say, I didn't need the toilet.

Hubs got out of bed, cleaned up the mess and put me back to bed without so much as a fuss. He is in the running for "Best Husband In The World Award" for his performance in the last few days of this saga and his ability to deal with Constance is no exception.

Post-op Update

I am lying on my futon downstairs with my right foot elevated "above my nose." I've been lying like this for what seems like weeks, but it's really only been since the afternoon of Friday, Jan. 25th which was the day I officially parted ways with Rafael.

I went in for surgery at 6:30 Friday morning for prep. The surgery was scheduled for 7:30 but they checked my vitals, started an IV and then gave me a nerve block for the lower part of my right leg. I didn't yet know the value of the nerve block which I discovered much later, so as I had a needle the size of a garden hose piercing the back side of my knee, I wished that I could reconsider the whole deal. The cramping, which is a much less severe word than the feeling I experienced, encompassed the whole lower half of my leg and caused my muscles to twitch and shake uncontrollably. The anesthesiologist confirmed this was "normal" which is hardly the word I'd use to describe it. Luckily, I already had an IV administering fluids so I fell asleep after the 3rd or 4th poke and don't remember much more of anything until I awoke in the recovery room much later.

My first thought when I awoke was to check my foot and to wiggle my toes. The nurse told me my first words were, "Is it appropriate to wiggle my toes?" A legitimate question given that I'd just spent 2.5 hours , unbeknownst to me, in an operation where they broke bones, reshaped them, shaved portions of bones and reconnected them with screws that will be with me for life. And then they shaved off more bone on the offending bunion area; that's where Rafael was excommunicated from my life; and then made some incisions so that my toes could straighten. According to the Doc, the surgery went well. I got to see an "after" x-ray and it was shocking to see the transformation when compared to the "before" x-ray. I hope to talk Dr. Hanson out of a set of those pics.

Yesterday, the day after the surgery, the nerve block wore off. And then the pain hit. I didn't understand, until then, why I'd been prescribed such a hearty cocktail of Oxycontin, Percocet and ibuprofin. The nerve block had effectively kept me without pain for a good 24 hours; a blessing I can't even begin to count. And even with the star line-up of prescribed drug cocktails, I am still feeling pain on a regular basis. Last night, hopefully, was the worst of it; even caused me to lose appetite for homemade lasagna, garlic toast and brownies brought to us by a friend who usually knows the way to my heart. I was reticent, at first, to rely so much on addictive pain meds for pain relief. But now that I know the level of pain I'll endure if I continue my hesitation to relieve the pain with conventional meds that are intended for this purpose, I think I'll opt for the meds.

I have my first post-op appointment in a week. I'm already having dreams about the Doc unwrapping my foot and letting me see the horror underneath. The blood I can see seeping through the bandages (again, a "normal" part of recovery) has been feeding my imagination and manifesting into horror movie dreams. Last night, Hubs appeared in my dream as a head-to-toe bandaged, drag-foot zombie that followed me around. When he linked his bandage accidentally around a doorknob and it was removed, he looked like a mangled foot underneath.

Are There Any Friends Left?

I have never made a friendship bracelet. Having grown up through the 70's and 80's, it's amazing to me that I never made or gave any friendship bracelets as a youngster. It's any wonder I had any friends....

I used yarn instead of embroidery thread cuz that's all I had at home. I'm not sure what all the hype was back in the day cuz it wasn't all that fun - my back hurt from hunching over it and it didn't turn out all that great either as you can see. There are different versions so there are many varieties that I could make. I made the one that was mid-level difficult and looked the best ... if it's done right. Luckily, if times get tough, I can crank out some bracelets and give them as gifts to friends and family. It's always good to have that option in your back pocket.

Merging of Cultures Right Here In Helena

On Saturday, I went with AVD and boyfriend to a Newbie concert at the Myrna Loy in Helena; MARIMBA music. I'd never seen it performed live and it was quite a treat. Who would have imagined that a Montana group could be so good at playing music from Zimbabwe? There were probably 10 people in the ensemble and their instruments were xylophones - the only way I know to describe it - that ranged from small like the Tinker Toys version we had as children to a very large one that required a step to access it because the pipes that resonated the sound were large enough for me crawl in them. The music was energetic, fun, and hard to resist foot-stomping or doing a little jig in my chair. There were many brave souls that ventured out on the dance floor but I was not one of them. I love to dance but not when the whole audience is aimed directly at the dance floor with nothing else to watch but the dancers. It made for a great people-watching concert though.

At one point, mid-concert, the band moved their instruments to make room for another Newbie and treat. A group of 4 kids - probably not older than 21, 22, choreographed a break dancing routine to one of the songs performed by the marimba band. Fascinating. They performed it onstage with the band and because I was late to the concert and had to, actually GOT TO sit up front where no one else wanted to sit, I was able to see how proud they were of their performance. It was great to see the kids so appreciative of a likely different type of music than they generally enjoy and it was even more great to see how good they were at their art. I think I'll take up break dancing for a Newbie sometime.

Not-Wet-With-Water Cleaners

Did you know that dry cleaning doesn't necessarily mean 'dry'? I took my fave sweater to the dry cleaners last Monday cuz it was looking a bit dingy. In order to log another Newbie, I asked the woman a bit about dry cleaning. She showed me a machine much like a washing machine that cleans the clothes in mass quanitities. The cleaning solvent is a liquid but because the process doesn't use water, it is dubbed "dry" cleaning. The solvent is constantly filtered through at an amazing rate so that my sweater was cleaned for 8 minutes and used approx. 200 gallons of solvent. She said that their business in little ol' Helena probably used millions of gallons of solvent PER DAY. Seems like a total waste when I really don't mind wearing a dirty sweater. My sweater was definitely clean and shiny when I got it back, but not clean or shiny enough to justify all that pollutant and energy just to clean my fave sweater.

Snowshoeing

Last Saturday, I finally tried out my Christmas gift from Hubs - snowshoeing. I'd never done it before and was glad to log at least one Newbie for the New Years weekend. I went with BFFs AVD and SH and had a great time frolicking in the snow like we actually have it - which we don't here in the dry barren desolate brown desert of Helena. We had to go high to get any of the white stuff but it was like a winter wonderland once we did. Snowshoeing is definitely a contender for the Fave winter play right up there with x-country skiing, downhill skiing, and Guiness drinking.

Speaking of winter wonderland, I think Lost Trail Ski Resort is the last best place left in Montana for skiing. It's cheap (unlike the ridiculous mountain, BS -a fitting acronym - that claims home in Montana but charges more than most Montanans can afford), it ALWAYS has great snow even in the face of global warming and desert-like conditions elsewhere, there are hardly any people there; I've never waited in line at the lift, and it's tucked back in the middle of nowhere on the border of ID and MT. It's my new favorite place to ski. Plus, they serve a really kickass brownie with chocolate frosting that I can't resist every time I go. I daresay it's better than the massive chocolate chip cookie that I get at Discovery Ski Basin every time we ski there. I think it could feed most of Helena in a food shortage. Mmmmmm, maybe it's time to go skiing again.

Death by Hanging

Did you know that death by hanging is still allowed in 2 states in the U.S.? I found this out last Friday, December 28, 2007, by playing my favorite Boxerjam game, KnowItAll. It's like a trivia game and one of the questions was about what other methods of death, besides lethal injection, are allowed in some states with the death pentaly. It made me curious so I looked it up. Washington and Delaware still allow death by hanging. The website where I found it, my new favorite site, Howstuffworks.com, has more fascinating information about how hanging actually works. The website claims that when it's done right, hanging can be one of the "most humane ways to inflict death." Isn't that an oxymoron?

It's still appalling to me that we share this honor (<--insert sarcasm) of being a country with the death penalty with other countries like Rwanda, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, Iraq, etc. And yet, we bomb them for the "human atrocities" they inflict on their people. It makes me gag.

Once and for all...

On 12/27, 2007, I finally called the doc for an apointment to deal with Rafael once and for all. This counts as a legit Newbie because for one, I’m the judge and jury of my own project, and for two, I haven’t been ready for the likely outcome of making an appointment; and now I am. So, for me, this counts. I have lived with this painful knob on the inside of my right foot since, hmmm, maybe since high school. I have become much more active in my adult life and therefore, it has grown and festered for most of its existence. Having trained for and finished 4 marathons, I probably secured the fate of its maturity, but everything I do now is with pain in my foot. The final straw was the infection. So, it’s a Newbie for me to finally buck up and call the doc because I know what he’ll say: cut it off. Calling the doc meant being prepared for a major, difficult and painful surgery and recovery. And for my Newbie, I’m finally ready. The prospect of no more pain while I run, ski, dance, walk, backpack, etc, is enough to seal the deal once and for all.

HAPPY 2008!

It hasn't been a good New Year for Newbies thus far. The first step to fixing my lackadaisical attitude toward Newbie makings is to admit that I have a problem; lack of creativity. I endeavored to be more creative by doing this project for my 36th year of life and alas, it has only confirmed my fears about a low level of creative juices flowing through my body.


I can safely say that since Thursday, December 27, I've tallied approximately 4 Newbies which is terrible since it's been over a week. But I've been distracted by travels, family, eating, drinking, skiing, drinking, eating and friends - not good excuses but they're the only ones I've got ... And let me tell you, the ideas are slow to come to me. I've been just getting on the internet to learn more things and that's the easy way out - still following my own rules, but it's still the easy way out! I need suggestions. I've had a good amount of suggestions from AP and they have been helping me through the rough times. But I'm running out - help! I am vowing to get back to the Newbie makings but with your help, it'll be a lot easier.