GownOpen2theBack

Ta Da! 2010 Blog:

2009-12-31T09:12:00.001-08:00

It's up: Paper, Plates. My new blog which is all about eating and reading. Two things which I do best. Check it out.

Abandoned Site

2009-12-29T08:17:00.000-08:00

Alas, I finally admit that I have abandoned this blog. It was fun while it lasted. I do indeed have an idea for another one and might actually get it started this afternoon. When I do, I'll post a link.... not that I have any readers left. But 2010 is a fresh start!

Resurrection.

2009-08-31T12:29:00.000-07:00

Good lord. It's been so long since I've posted that I forgot my log in. I'm not dead, BTW - just haven't been inspired to write. I didn't know a vegetable garden would take so much of my time, but it has been worth it. I've eaten fresh yellow wax beans, blue lake green beans, cucumbers, 3 kinds of tomatoes and some carrots. Dug up beautiful potatoes this weekend too.

Anyway, I've grown a bit bored with this blog. I have an idea for a different one, so will be working on that shortly. In the meantime, thanks for stopping by. Hope it's been a nice summer for you also.

Saturday Morning Harvest

2009-07-25T08:39:00.000-07:00

Thank goodness for gardens. Tomatoes don't care about dental bills, worn out tires, cats throwing up hairballs, or laundry which has to be done. Sucha bright way to start my day! :-))

Rx: A Big Dose of Beano

2009-07-23T21:04:00.000-07:00

In the beginning there really wasn't a defined system. There were a few dedicated bean providers and many bean consumers. Not everyone had access to the bean providers and not everyone had money for the beans. There was a lot of making-do and some consumers suffered and died from lack of beans. But the bean providers increased and became very skilled at providing and eventually most consumers were able to obtain the beans they each needed.

As the demand for beans increased, the providers became overwhelmed. They wanted to study beans, and to research ways to improve beans, and to spend their time dispensing beans. They were very busy and didn't have the time to develop bean sale and collection techniques. That's when they were approached by friendly associates who said, "Let us control and count the beans - trust us, it will be a much better system. We'll collect from the bean consumers and then pay you for your beans. Everyone will be happy!" And so the system was started.

For a while everyone was contented. The bean providers focused on their science, the bean consumers had access to dependable supplies, and the bean controllers hired bean counters and perfected their system. But bean demand continued to increase, and bean research & development proved to be very costly, and the spreadsheets of the bean controllers began to have areas of red ink.

So the controllers met with the counters and discussed the situation. The bean counters reported, "All is well with Consumer A - he consumes very few beans. But Consumer B is becoming a problem - she is consuming much more than her fair share of beans. Consumer C is not a problem now, but might be a problem in the near future." The controllers pondered this and instructed the counters: "In the future, we will screen and exclude anyone who looks like Consumer B. The risk is too great. And we need to watch Consumer C carefully and expel him as soon as problems develops. Consumer A can stay". They were pleased with this plan and voted themselves a substantial pay increase.

The following month, the controllers and counters met again. The problem with Consumer B was resolved, since she was no longer consuming earthly beans. And all potential "B"s had been rejected from the system. But the bottom lines were still not pleasing so the controllers said, "Well, it's unfortunate, but we must cut back on provider reimbursements and increase consumer contributions. We need more coming in and less going out. It's not personal, just business." So the letters were sent and the controllers voted themselves a substantial pay increase.

In the meantime, the B & C consumers were scrambling to find beans. They tried the providers directly but were told, "No, we can't take you. We know you can pay for your beans this time, but there's no guarantee of that in the future. And if we take you now, we'll have to provide your beans forever even if you can't pay. We're very sorry - it's not personal." They tried the charity bean dispensers but were told, "No, we can't help you. You are not poor enough to receive charity beans. We're very sorry - it's not personal." They tried various controllers and were told, "Yes, we can take you. But you'll have to pay 10 times more than our other consumers because you're a risk to the sytem. We're very sorry - it's not personal." So most of the B & C's stopped consuming beans, accepting that the system worked for some but not all. And the controllers voted themselves a substantial pay raise.

But all was not well with the sytem. Neither the bean providers nor the bean consumers were happy. Both sides began grumbling and eyeing each other as adversaries, not partners. The word "reform" began to surface and the Controllers and their counters were not happy. Committees were formed, debates were held, impossible solutions were scattered around like handfuls of loose beans. Bean recipes were developed but turned bitter and unpalatable because of so many cooks in the kitchen. The recipes grew to thousands of pages and no one bothered to read the ingredient lists or cooking instructions. Each committe claimed to have a blue ribbon bean pot but no one could explain how to actually make the dish.

The controllers sent messengers out to sow beans of fear, discontent, and confusion. They said to the consumers, "Trust us, you have the best system in the world! If you change it, you'll have to wait hours in line for sour, defective, expensive beans. You might not even get beans, if you're too old or feeble! Trust us, we will take care of you!" And the consumers forgot that these same messengers were already keeping them from getting beans, and in their confusion they began to turn against the reformers.

In the end, the recipes were ripped, torn, and shredded by committees which could not quell the arguing, shouting, accusing, criticising, and distorting. The controllers looked at the piles of confetti on the workroom floor and nodded to each other. They retired to their board rooms, hung Mission Accomplished banners, and promptly voted themselves substantial pay raises.

As for the bean consumers? They made-do and some suffered and died from lack of beans. The reformers went home, hoping to never discuss beans again. The system survived and adapted to it's chronic illness. Sales of Beano increased and no one lived happily ever after.

Garden Gloves

2009-07-05T15:23:00.001-07:00

First harvest, other than lettuce and herbs: 2 lemon cukes, 5 pickle cukes, handful of yellow wax beans, and 6 SunGold tomatoes. And all it took was 6 weeks of soil, fertilizer & compost, mulching, watering, weeding, training, supporting, and protecting. Awesome. Next up: carrotts, green beans, big tomatoes, and potatoes. Awesome. And not a single, slimy, slithering slug. Really really awesome.

Slip Sliding Away

2009-06-28T07:50:00.001-07:00

Planning, planting, and harvesting a backyard garden is such a learning experience! I've already learned that 18 lettuce plants for 1 person is about 15 plants too many. And I've learned that tomatoes will not stay in their tidy wire cages, preferring to sprawl over the edges and dominate shorter, more polite vegetables. I've learned that cucumber vines will cooperate only so far in climbing their shiny new trellis before becoming bullies of the raised bed - apparently they love shoving, fighting, and strangling the other kids in the sandbox.

I've learned that tiny, pudgy, slimy slug babies love Bibb lettuce and I've learned the absolute meaning of "squeamish". The slugs have given me OCD. I start channeling Monk when picking lettuce - inspecting every groove and curve in the delicate little leaves. Then it's into the kitchen sink for a good soak and rinse under running water, where every groove is inspected again before a violent cycle in the salad spinner. It's highly unlikely that one of the slimy creatures could get past my Navy Seal worthy screening techniques.

And yet, every single time, about half way through eating my salad or turkey roll-up with fresh lettuce, I start thinking "what if?". What if a slug is still attached to this green leaf? Would I know if I bit into it, or could I have swallowed one whole? Would it crunch... or squish... or feel like the raw oyster I once tried to swallow in an attempt of culinary coolness? (Notice I say, tried to swallow.) What if I see one crawling along the edge of the salad bowl? What if, what if, what if. One time I added sunflower seeds to my salad and that was a nerve-wracking lunch. I had to watch each kernel and make sure it wasn't moving. Sheesh.

Maybe backyard gardening is going to be too stressful for me.

Drag Me to Hellthy

2009-06-21T08:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not a fan of horror movies so won't be seeing the latest bloody blockbuster. Besides, having just completed our health insurance renewal at work, I've already experienced enough frayed nerves and screaming for a while. It was a two month process of receiving the annual premium increases, researching potential options, revamping the benefits package again (twice in 3 years), holding a general staff meeting to explain the changes, and then meeting with employees individually to make sure they understood the information. I'm telling you, it's draining.

It's coincidental that our renewal period is happening at the same time as the health care reform "debates". Although it's a bit masochistic, I try to pay attention to the issue because it affects me both personally and professionally. Sorting through the various voices and opinions is not easy - and no one, including the current administration, seems to actually have a solution. When I was in management classes (almost 20 years ago!) I was taught to define the problem and then keep backing away from it until I could identify a root cause. At that point, it was possible to start developing an action plan. But that technique doesn't seem to be working on a problem this massive. Perhaps it's because we haven't clearly defined the problem - is it that health care in the US is too expensive or is it that too many people are uninsured? Is it the chicken or the egg?

Some pp think the insurance companies are too greedy and profit motivated. Some pp think that doctors are overpaid and focused on "lifestyle" rather than health care. Some pp think the American public is to blame for their unhealthy addictions to junk food, alcohol, tobacco, and lazy-boy recliners. Some think it's the fault of illegal immigrants and the uninsured who are using the health care system and contributing nothing. Some feel it's the fault of Medicare/government programs for underpaying and forcing inflation by other payers. Some pp think it's Big Pharma, or research expenses, or elective, unnecessary procedures, or...or...or - it goes on and on with no workable plan in sight.

I read three columns in the Wall St. Journal recently explaining why Obama's plans won't work. After pondering those for a while, I reached the conclusion that those particular writers don't think there is a problem - the current system is working fine for them apparently. Several days later, in the same publication, I read a well written column on page A13 by the CEO of Safeway claiming that the company wellness program had eliminated premium increases for his company for the last 5 years. Impressive. But on page A11 there was a news article stating that extensive research has shown that wellness programs have minimum impact - companies report less than 5% overall participation and cannot show any measurable improvement in employees' overall health. So the "consumer-driven health plans accompanied by wellness programs" are not effective in keeping costs down. Which is it gentlemen? I'm confused.

My company carries insurance with United Healthcare, one of the largest providers in the USA. Depending on perspective, UHC is a life saver or a b*ll buster. Some of our local MD's won't work with UHC. According to Forbes magazine, the CEO of UHC earned $124.8 million in 2005 through a combination of salary, perks, and stock options. (I have no idea what my young, hardworking primary care doc makes, but I'm pretty sure it's not $125 million.) But at the same time, UHC is paying for my co-worker's cancer treatment and is providing close, personal support. His final bill for 10 days of immunotherapy treatment: $593,000. He was responsible for $1,500 of that. So, insurance company bad? or insurance company good? Depends on perspective.

I have more, but I'm tired of writing right now. I'm going to try not to think of health care reform today. I don't know what the solution is and I don't want US citizens to keep suffering. I would like to see some positive changes come from the reform process. Otherwise, we might as well be dragged to Dante's hell and "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

2009-05-31T22:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Ms. Manners, can you provide advice on how to greet a casual business associate when the encounter takes place in a health club locker room? Oh - and the said associate is wearing only a birthday suit, not a business suit. The situation has left me awkwardly speechless, so I am hoping you can be of some etiquette assistance. Sincerely, the Spynster

Well, seriously, it was awkward! I walked around the corner and there was a woman I know only from business situations, standing at the blow dry station wearing not a stitch of clothing. Complete nudity is not that common at our health club, at least not on the women's side of the locker rooms. Who knows what the men do - spynsters don't want to know! Anyway, most of us females change quickly and efficiently and drape towels generously when going in or out of the showers. But occasionally some free spirit will forgo using draped towels and in this case the free spirit was someone who would have expected a social greeting from me!

I tried to think of a quick appropriate greeting like "Hi! Nice to see you!" - oh, that was soooo not true. or "Hello, gosh you're looking great!" Also not true - she's my age and we're both shaped a bit like sweet potatoes. (You know, tapered on both ends, plump & fleshy through the middle.) Or "Wow, I'm surprised to see you." Now that was true, but how could I say it when I'd be looking in every direction except towards her?

I took the cowards' way. Before my forward foot hit the floor I did a complete u-turn and walked the long way around to my locker. Past the toilets, and sinks, and sauna, and showers, and weight station, and private lockers. Anything to avoid having to stop and chat. Gosh, I added to my cardio workout by doing that. Maybe I should say "thanks" next time - only I hope there never is a next time. Please Ms. Manners, what would you say?

Liberry Blues

2009-05-30T18:19:00.000-07:00

I have a bone to pick with someone in my town. And it's not just because I'm turning into a cranky old lady as my age increases and the people around me get more and more aggravating. No, this particular person really deserves a good dressing down by a sharped tongue spynster, or even better, by an old-fashioned librarian who should confiscate the cretin's library card as punishment.

Because this person is committing the literary sin of writing in library books. Not just once either, but he/she has made notations in every copy of one of my favorite mystery writers. It is incredibly annoying to be reading along, and then come across these notations - it's like fingers on a chalk board. Obviously this person has never been taught basic manners regarding public books - namely, that they are on loan to everyone and should never, never, never be de-faced or damaged in any way. What a right-wing, fanatical nut job!

Why am I accusing him/her of being right wing? Because the notations happen everywhere in the stories where the author has made a tongue-in-cheek observation about America or Americans. She (the author) is writing from the perspective of an Italian detective working in Venice Italy and there is equal opportunity to expose the weaknesses of Italian government. But my co-reader is highly offended by even the slightest, most creative phrases which seem to indicate disrespect or insult to the USA. Geeezz Loueezz - give it a break! And if the opinions of the ex-pat author writing mystery fiction are so offensive, why did he/she have to read every single book our library owns? At least this person has turned off Fox News and lowered the volume on Rush L. (is that technically possible?), but perhaps he/she should not be reading library books. Even if they are tax-payer owned.

So there's my peeve - there could be a brawl in the public library if the two of us are ever in the mystery stacks at the same time. This is America - I'm probably allowed to take a loaded gun into the library now that I think of it. Ka pow, you pencil wielding creep.

Dough Nots

2009-05-14T15:30:00.000-07:00

Part of my HR duties at the company includes coordination of safety training and, hopefully, preventing expensive worker's compensation claims. We have a pretty good safety record, so for the past year, I have alternated a Safety topic with a Wellness topic - assuming everyone wants to stay healthy and thereby avoid pain, suffering, and really expensive health care costs.

Attendance at the Wellness sessions has been moderate - pretty much the same core group each time. We've discussed nutrition, weight management, stress management, heart health, bones & joints, and infectious disease control. I'm always careful to use valid sources and to document my facts, so that the audience knows I'm not just making things up! I've become quite the little expert on all things healthy/unhealthy and on human behaviour. Here's my conclusion after 12 months:

That, given a choice between healthy weight, healthy blood sugar levels, healthy arteries, strong bones and good teeth - between those choices and a full box of fresh, local bakery doughnuts - well, the doughnuts win every single time! Standing on a scale staring at the dial, and still reaching for a glazed; or reading the latest lipid panel printout and grasping an old fashioned; or watching the blood pressure gauge while chowing down a maple bar - it's a human conundrum. We luv us some sugary deep-fried dough balls.

I may have to declare the pink boxes a safety hazard this year - although that's probably a safety hazard of it's own. Hey, how am I going to get this sticky sugar glaze off my keyboard!

C Stands for Ca-Ching

2009-05-11T21:23:00.000-07:00

My friend is home from his second round of immunotherapy at UCSF and is doing well. He arrived shortly before the first invoice did and, thankfully, was already lying down when he opened the manila envelope. The 12 itemized pages included 5 days of ICU, 14 doses of interferon at $5,000 per dose, the PICC line and every other item needed during his fight for survival. Bottom line for those 5 days? $289,000. Doctor's fees not included - those will come later. As will the invoice for the 2nd week which includes another $30,000 for interferon and 3 days of ICU.

I know all this because in addition to being his friend, I'm also his HR go-to and will be helping him organize and track the expenses. He is very, very unlucky to have melanoma and is very, very lucky to have good health insurance coverage. When we talked today, I said "congratulations, you've spent more than the company's annual premium for 30 families in only one week. That's a record!" We both laughed - what else could we do, start crying?

It's my job now to make sure that he keeps that coverage, by keeping him compliant with the insurance eligibility requirements. That means he has to a) work a minimum of 30 hours per week (regardless of how he feels), or b) be placed on protected FMLA medical leave (12 weeks allowed in a 12 month period) or c) be moved onto COBRA if a and b are no longer options. Federal COBRA has a maximum 18 month enrollment. I refuse to even look at option d, where he'd exceed the 18 months and then be left with absolutely no coverage and no possibility of ever getting coverage again.

A few minutes after I talked to him, I read internet articles about the health care industry agreeing to work with the Obama administration on health care reform. I'm not sure where the changes will come, but I hope all the sides will finally come to a large table and work out some viable options. The system we have now works for many of us, but there are a lot of large, scary, black holes in the safety net. Hopefully within the next few years some of those holes will be filled so that cancer patients can focus on wellness instead of bankruptcy.

In the meantime, my friend and I are waiting for the second, third, and fourth envelope with a UCSF addresses to arrive. Overall charges for his health?: priceless.

Scrambled Huevos

2009-05-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I'm becoming a racist.

I was stuck in normal 5:00 p.m. traffic on Friday, creeping along the highway at a snails pace which meant I had plenty of time to peruse the newest billboard in town. The more I looked at it, the more irritated I became.

The billboard is in Spanish and everything about it - colors, graphics, font style - is geared to young Latino males. It would blend right into the landscape across the Mexican border but here, inside an American town, it's a bit jarring to the senses. It's the first one I've seen that is completely in Spanish, not a bilingual translation. And I'm a bit surprised about how irritating that is - to see a huge ad in my community which is not in my native language.

Part of me is jealous because I would love to be bilingual. I've attempted to learn Spanish many, many times but still hablo como un bebe. Part of me is sympathetic to the new population, because I realize how difficult it is to learn a new language and adapt to new customs. And part of me is thoroughly irritated because "my" town and "my" country are changing to accommodate the new population instead of the other way around.

I've lived in the same neighborhood for 16 years now and have watched it transition not-so-slowly into a Spanish speaking area. All three of the corner grocery stores are now latino mercados. I can buy tortillas, salsa, beans, rice, bulk herbs, manteca (lard), mystery cuts of meat, mole sauce, pinatas, and muchas otras cosas de mexicanas. I can visit several taquerias for killer burritos, tacos, and enchiladas. But if I want a turkey sandwich on sliced whole wheat with lettuce, jack cheese, and hot-sweet mustard , then I drive 3 miles to the up-scale yuppie grocery where I can also get imported cheeses, wild salmon, applewood smoked bacon, and artisan breads. (I haven't had breakfast yet, can you tell?)

I also work in an industry which has a high proportion of Spanish speakers and my co-workers are wonderful people. But my company made the decision last year, with strong support from the HR director (me), to include "basic English required" in all our job postings. I suppose we could be accused of discrimination but we're doing it for safety, teamwork, and cost control. In California, if 10% or more of the workforce speaks a language other than English, translation of all employment materials must be provided. I work for a small company, so 10% is 5 employees. The translations can get very expensive after awhile. So, starting in 2008, we are requiring English as a condition of hire.

On Tuesday there will be Cinco de Mayo celebrations all over town, and many Mexican flags flying from cars and apartment complexes. That's OK, except I have a very strong suspicion than many of those celebrants do not see CA as their actual home - their allegiance is with Mexico and they would still live there if they had jobs and a living wage. In their own words they "go home" each year for about 4 weeks in December & January, and the school district here has adjusted the school calendar to allow for the students absences. Many of them own homes in Mexico - a new co-worker recently showed me pictures of his 4 bedroom, 3 bath house with a pool where he plans to return after working another 10 years in the US. He's worked hard for it - but there is no question that he is only here temporarily.

So, I guess my whole point is that CA has developed a two culture society and our immigrants, legal or not, are not fully assimilated into American culture. When I studied in Mexico 10 years ago, I learned a folk phrase: "juntos pero no revueltos". Literal translation: together but not mixed/scrambled. Or, together but not together. It's used when discussing whether a couple are friends or more than friends... but I think it also applies to our dual culture here.

The billboard won't keep me from drinking a cold margarita on Tuesday, but I still think it's inappropriate. It's a very large reminder that we are juntos pero no revueltos.

blogus interruptus

2009-04-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

Life is what happens in between blog postings. Just like my other hobbies, sometimes I simply don't feel like writing. So, I apologize for the gaps in my posts but I can't promise it won't happen again. It will. Here's an update on the sypnster's life since April 6th

My friend is home from his first week of immunotherapy at UCSF. He managed to set an ICU record for # of doses received, but is now paying the price. When I talked to him this morning he was headed for another Aveeno Oatmeal Bath soak. His skin is peeling off in sheets, he has a black eye from rubbing his eyelid, his gums are bleeding, he's expelling 30 lbs of water weight, and hasn't eaten anything but miso soup and top ramen in 8 days. But he's still laughing and cracking jokes, so he's certainly not down for the count. He goes back on May 4th for round #2. F****ing Cancer.

The 3 Cats on the Porch Situation has been resolved. I finally rustled up some help from the local shelter and one very lovely, helpful, compassionate volunteer took them away one evening. Turns out both mom and daughter were pregnant! I had strong suspicions about mom, but the little one wasn't even a year old. It was like finding out a 13 year old was pregnant by the neighborhood bully! But all three are safe and sound now in the shelter and will be up for adoption after 7 days. The kittens won't be arriving tho - both girls had some medical assistance to remedy their unfortunate circumstances.

My recycled, black plastic, raised planter beds finally arrived, after being on back order for three weeks. Much to my surprise, they were made in Great Britain, not China as I had assumed. Hallelujah! I won't have to worry about lead or other substances in my backyard vegetables. Not to insult China or anything, but I'm thrilled to receive gardening supplies from the world's best gardening country. I have planted 3 types of lettuce, 1 Bush Pickle cucumber, 1 Lemon cucumber, yellow wax beans, Kentucky Wonder green beans, 2 peppers ( red & orange), 3 tomatoes (Early Girl, Mama Mia, and Sun...something), carrot seeds, herbs, nasturtiums, and zinnias. So far, my "free" vegetables have cost about $500.00. Not counting the water bill, which in a CA summer can be substantial. And not counting the replacement plants when some of these inevitably croak. But hey, hobbies are supposed to be expensive right?

I also managed to haul the dirt and plant everything while hobbling around on a self-diagnosed case of plantar fasciitis. My heel hurts like hell. And all my baby boomer friends tell me that's what it is. I've tried heat, ice, ibuprofen, foot stretches, new $100 workout shoes, new Clarks old-lady work shoes (hey, Great Britain again!), standing on a tennis ball - the entire treatment protocol. It still hurts. I think I need stronger drugs. A trip to my favorite MD might be in the near future. It's his fault anyway. He told me to start exercising - which I have done, and have now worn my feet out! Hmmmphh.

So there you have it - 2+ weeks of not much. Just life.

Cat Astrophe

2009-04-06T16:47:00.000-07:00

I seem to be well on my way to becoming the "cat lady" of the neighborhood. For some reason, a gang of 6 has selected my front porch and back yard as the favorite feline hangout. The absence of a dog and the presence of a bird feeder probably scored high on the selection checklist. Now, in addition to my two mostly-indoor calicos, I am playing hostess to one gray tabby with identical twin gray- striped offspring, plus two black & whites - one large, one small, plus another one who is all black. That's about six too many, as far as I'm concerned.

The 3 gray ones are my biggest concern because they are victims of the housing downturn and have been semi-abandoned. They sort of "live" 3 houses over, but the homeowner hates cats and just leaves food and water in the garage for them. Apparently they belonged to a niece who was recently evicted and forced to move to a studio apartment. At least that's what I've been told from another neighbor. But they're not getting enough food nor enough human contact, and the mama cat sits on my front step and cries. Of course I've given her food - how could I not?

I called the local no-kill rescue center on Friday and was told that they currently have 191 cats in residence, although they only have space for 100. It's raining cats and dogs. They're being dropped off night and day by people who have lost housing and can't keep pets. The shelter is overwhelmed and the woman I talked with practically begged me to keep providing food and a warm porch - and possibly taking Mom Cat to the $35.00 low cost, spay clinic to prevent a spring batch of kittens. OMG.

I'll do what I can, but this situation is not good. I don't want to be a cat lady. Would anyone like a sweet, affectionate, friendly, lonely little friend?

Clouds

2009-04-05T09:56:00.000-07:00

I can see now that's it's difficult to write a blog when feeling distraught, sad, angry, and afraid. We've had several disturbing events in my area lately: the tragic death of a talented eye surgeon and his beautiful young family in the Montana plane crash; the tragic shooting deaths of 4 Oakland police officers; the tragic murder/suicide of a family in a South Bay condo - bad news followed by bad news. It's been enough to make me stop reading the papers for awhile.

As sad as those stories are, they happened to strangers. It's possible to fold up the newspaper and walk away from the heartache a bit. But when something bad happens to one of my favorite friends, the heartache doesn't go away and taking time to write a blog post doesn't take high priority. That's where I've been the past 3 weeks.

Two years ago, as soon as he had stable health insurance, my friend went to have an ugly mole checked out. That one was fine, but the "freckle" on the side of his neck wasn't. The biopsy came back positive for early stage melanoma. He had surgery two weeks later and all the docs were confident about the results. He has followed their instructions to the letter - no sun exposure, regular chest x-rays and blood tests, and twice a year skin checks at the UCSF melanoma clinic. All has been well.

Last month he felt a petite pea sized lump at the site of the original surgery. He received varied opinions from "it's not a concern" to "wait and see" to "let's be cautious and take the d*#n thing out, even tho it's most likely fat or scar tissue." He had it taken out and it was a lymph node positive for melanoma. F*#K!

He went back to UCSF for a series of scans and discussions of treatment. Everyone was confident that the scans would be negative and they scheduled him for another round of surgery to remove all lymph nodes in the general regions of the petite pea. The scans were not negative. He has systemic melanoma in the lymph nodes and multiple pin-point lesions in both lungs. All of us - my friend, his doctors and family and huge circle of friends and coworkers - feel as if we've been slammed against a wall. These microscopic wayward cells have caused unmeasureable amounts of tears and fears and anger and brave reassurances and gestures of generosity. We're going through the exact same patterns as all the other millions of people who get a cancer diagnosis, but this diagnosis is ours and it hurts.

And the worst part is - he SO does not deserve this. He is an amazing person; happy, positive, always making people laugh, enjoying life and helping everyone else enjoy it too. The first response from all of us when we heard the news was "OMG, this is so unfair!"

So, he will be going to UCSF in 2 weeks for an intense 5 day bombardment of immunotherapy, followed by one week of rest, and then another 5 days of treatment if it can be tolerated. In the meantime he's getting the garden ready for summer, planning ahead for adjusting his work load, celebrating Easter with adoring 4 year old twin nephews, and focusing on each 24 hour period.

I'm leaving now to go to Target to buy an iPod shuffle, so he will have some soothing sounds when the fever, shaking, and fatigue begins. OMG, this is so unfair.

Say Yes to Less

2009-03-15T08:21:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning thinking about something I watched on TV Friday night. No, it wasn't a thought provoking Frontline episode or an educational PBS documentary. It was my favorite Friday night fluff, "Say Yes to the Dress" - the NY bridal salon reality show! I love pouring a glass of wine, curling up on the couch with the 2 cats, and spending an hour watching women try on elaborate white gowns while their (so-called) friends and family critique every square inch of the dress and the brides' own fashion sense.

It reminds me of my pre-teen/teen days, when my sister, cousin, and I would spend hours pouring over dog-eared copies of Brides magazines, discussing the pros and cons of satin vs lace, straight vs full, train vs no train, short veil vs full length. (Too bad we didn't invest as much time discussing characteristics of good husbands - that would happen in our late 20's, after a couple of whopping mistakes!) Anyway, the dresses we dreamed over were completely out of reach for 3 blue-collar family girls. In the end, all 3 of us walked down the aisles in dresses hand sewn by our mothers, from McCalls or Simplicity patterns not Vogue or New York designers. I still have mine, packed away in a trunk along with other keepsakes from a long, long time ago. I suppose the divorce papers are in there somewhere too - not sure if I saved those. : - )0

But I'm getting off track. In the episode on Friday night, a young woman pitched a fit over her self-designed bridal gown and ultimately decided it wasn't the dress for her. She switched over to a designer gown and brought in her father for approval on the 2nd dress - because he controlled the checkbook I assume. And she wanted alterations to the 2nd dress which the bridal shop said should not/could not be done.

In short, she was a spoiled, over indulged brat. The first dress, which she rejected, had a price tag of $18,000 and the 2nd one (before alterations, which she got) was $27,000. In order to keep the sale, the salon agreed to split the difference between the gowns but that still presented the dad with a $40,000 +/- bill for his baby's dress. Just a bit excessive in my opinion.

She reminded me very much of a pre-schooler. You know, the ones who keep pushing the limits just to see how much they can get away with, asking for things they don't even really want just to see what will happen and throwing tantrums to torment wishy-washy adults. It was not a Cinderella story, despite the yards of satin, lace and tulle.

So my Friday night fluff has provided lessons to me about child rearing, budget considerations and excessive spending, and predictions of a not-very-successful marriage. None of which are useful at this stage of my life, except the budget considerations. Can't wait until next Friday.

Spring Forward

2009-03-08T11:55:00.001-07:00

It's a spring beautiful morning here. The window next to my desk is filled with sky, cotton ball clouds, a peach tree just beginning to push pale pink buds, and a lemon bush struggling to hold up it's tart little fruits. The mockingbirds are practicing riffs for the upcoming spring dances and hummingbirds are sipping nectar from the feeder. So am I content and happy?

No. I am crabby, grumpy, annoyed, and irritable. When I opened my eyes this a.m, I had to reach over and set the clock ahead an hour. That was followed by 2 other digital clocks, the DVD, oven, battery clock, watch, and coffeemaker. Now it's 12:00 noon and I'm already an hour late for everything. I don't like this.

Sure, I'll be very happy tomorrow when I leave the gym at 7:00 p.m. and it won't be dark. And I'll be happy tomorrow a.m. when the cats don't get me up at 6:00 p.m. (clock time) to fill their bowls with food and water. (Which they won't eat or drink until after I've left the house, just on principle.) And I suppose I'll be happy when it feels like I'm leaving work an hour early.

But in the meantime, I'm feeling pushed for time and guilty for sitting at the computer for 15 minutes. Too much to do! Too little time! Hurry up, it will be dark soon! Oh. Actually, I guess it won't be. Whatever.

Tool Academy

2009-03-02T20:22:00.000-08:00

Do you ever keep tools or utensils long past their expiration dates? I do. For instance, my 4 cup glass measuring cup is so old that all the red ink has worn off - which means it really doesn't even qualify as a measuring cup. It's fairly easy to pour out 2 cups and 4 cups, but 1 and 3 were estimates rather than measurements. That's OK when cooking, in most cases, but not so OK when baking. Then, there was the ancient potato peeler and the bacteria laden can opener, both very ineffective but familiar.

However, while I was running errands on Saturday I happened to drive past the incredibly wonderful kitchen store downtown. It's like an old hardware store but better- wood floors, hand written receipts, shelves stacked to the ceilings, and full of kitchen gadgets, knives, bakeware, cookware, utensils, and more. It's one of my favorite places in the world. So I quickly drove around the block, parked, and bought 2 new Pyrex measuring cups, a vegetable peeler, and an ergonomic, stylish, hand-held can opener. The measuring cups are grand, the peeler is as smooth and fast as a floating bullet train from Vegas to Disneyland but, alas, the can opener is a nightmare. It has to go back. Still, 3 out of 4 successful replacements is OK with me.

I'm keeping my 1960's rolling pin and flour sifter tho - those two just can't be replaced. And I still have an electric frying pan which I received as a wedding gift in 1969. Let's see... that means it outlasted the marriage by 36 years! It hasn't been used much in the last 10 years, since fried chicken and/or chicken fried steak is not really in my culinary repetoire anymore. But it's staying in the cupboard for old times sake, along with my grandfather's cast iron dutch oven and some brownie pans that were sort of a parting gift from a deli where I once worked. To be honest, I guess they were partly stolen, partly gifted. That's another story.

Anyway, my kitchen now is a very nice mix of new, effective tools and old, reliable pieces. Seems just about right to me!

The Week That Wasn't

2009-02-22T11:42:00.000-08:00

Once in a while, when I've had a perfectly ordinary week, I measure success by what didn't happen rather than what did. For instance, this week:

I did not get rear-ended by the little punk gang-banger driving his Mercedes at high speed while completing a call on his hand-held Blackberry. (Which is illegal in CA now. The hand-held device, not all Blackberries.) Fortunately for me, he finished the call just in time to notice that traffic had stopped in front of him. He didn't look like someone whose auto insurance premiums are up-to-date, even though his diamond stud earrings would cover about 3 of my mortgage payments. That's how close we were - I could see the diamonds shooting firey rainbows in my rear view mirror. But the accident didn't happen! And,

The crawl space under my house did not flood because I remembered, after 16 hours of rain, to plug in the sump pump which immediately kicked in and started whoooshing water out the side drain. And,

I didn't have to pay full price at the movie theater yesterday because all Oscar nominated films were offered at the "bargain" level - thereby leaving me $3.00 to apply towards the purchase of the most drastically overpriced, unhealthiest product on earth: movie popcorn. And,

I did not lose any data or e-mail addresses or favorites folders or work-in-progress during the software upgrade at work. Judging from the sounds coming from other offices, some of my co-workers were not so lucky. Granted, it did take me 1 hour & 45 minutes to complete a document which should have taken 20 minutes but I'm sure it'll get easier before it's time for the next upgrade. And,

I did not have to stand in line at the lingerie counter at Macy's behind the woman who wanted to know which was a better price: the bras which she bought 3 weeks ago at the "buy 2, get 1 free"special or at the current 40% sale. Neither she nor the sale clerk could figure it out. Now, I'm not known for my math skills but I do know that 40% off is a bigger discount than 33.3333% off, which is what you get on a 3 for 2. But the main problem was that she wanted the new price on merchandise which had no tags, and that was a big no. The customer stomped off, the clerk popped an Advil, and I slid my debit card through on the other register. It seemed like a lot of effort to expend in order to save $4-5, but I guess today every penney counts. And,

I do not have to drive anywhere in the rain tonight for Oscar night, because my friends are coming here, to my house with the unflooded crawl space. Gotta go make some appetizers now and chill the sparking wine. Hope you also have a week in which nothing happens.

In More Ways than One

2009-02-11T15:30:00.000-08:00

Although the headlines right now are dominated by layoffs and business closures, my company is actually trying to fill three positions. Since I’m the one-person HR department, I’ve been accepting and screening resumés and applications all week. It starts out fun, opening each e-mail like a package, never knowing if it will contain gem or dud. But after several days of this, I have some advice for job seekers – and I’m not trying to be mean here, just helpful.

Don’t submit a resume if the posting says “must live within commute distance” but you live in India, China, Spain, Italy, Slovenia or Brazil. You may hit “send” but I hit “delete”.

Don’t use a resume as a creative writing project. It’s not a good thing when the HR director has to get out a dictionary. Maybe I’m ignorant, but reading that someone has an interest in “autodidactic pursuits” makes me wonder about the potential of a workplace lawsuit.

Don’t apply for a position simply because you “have a passion” for the product. For instance, I have a “passion” for my iPod but I don’t have a clue how to make one. We need workers willing to do hard manual labor, put in long hours and get dirty, which is not the same as having a fun & romantic job! Being a passionate consumer of wine does not a winemaker make.

Don’t submit anything without proof reading or spell checking. I tend to be skeptical if you tell me you’re “effishent, rganized, and througho”.

Don’t assure me on paper that you’re fluent in English as a Second Language, and then provide a voice mail number in which the prompts are not in English. I did try to leave a message, but since you haven’t called back yo pienso que no hacerlo. Lo muy siento.

Don’t ask your girlfiend to call and check on the results of your submission. If you want the job, do your own follow-up. Then again, we might hire your girlfriend since she obviously takes direction well and is willing to pitch in.

OK, job seekers, that’s it for now. I’m not complaining. At least I still have a job.

Time's Up

2009-02-09T13:56:00.000-08:00

"Three weeks ago, Barack Obama was seen as a beacon of hope for change throughout the world. Today, the world knows that the greatest need for immediate change is in the Oval Office and the man in charge there."

I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. That statement is lifted verbatim from a rather lengthy letter to the editor in this morning's San Francisco Chronicle. The rest of the letter details why, after 3 weeks in office, President Obama is failing to meet expectations. At first I thought maybe it was satire but then quickly realized the author was serious.

Geez. I've started new jobs where I was still learning co-workers names at 3 weeks. And trying to remember the new password to open my computer. Gosh. I usually don't have the boxes unpacked at 3 weeks after moving - and that's been just across town, not halfway across the country. Of course, the Obama's had a large staff to unpack for them but that might be even worse! Imagine having to ask someone where they put your socks and underwear. Of course, he is male so maybe that's not unusual. ha ha.

But seriously. Is our American attention span so incredibly short that we expected 3 week fixes? That kind of scares me - maybe people really did expect a miracle worker. However I believe that if President Obama fails, as apparently some people are hoping, then it will be because we, the American people, fail to do our part - not the other way around. I'm willing to wait another few years before passing judgement. Are you?

Counter Culture

2009-02-01T09:36:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: while I don't have a large reader base, this blog has had a FEW more than 70 hits! For some reason the counter went haywire around New Year's and once I got it reinstalled, it reset at 000. Was it trying to send a message about my blog content? Whatever. I've been too lazy to correct it. So you can still feel sorry about my pathetic reader count, but it's not really as bad as you might think. : - ))

Weather or Not

2009-02-01T09:11:00.000-08:00

Somedays it's hard to not feel guilty about California weather. Yesterday I was begrudgingly pushing the lawn mower around the back yard, pruning my climbing rose, pulling grass which was sprouting in the wrong places, and cutting the oranges which hang over my side fence from the neighbors tree. It was between 65 & 70 degrees, with not a cloud in the sky. Meanwhile, the residents of Kentucky were shivering and shaking in the midst of an ice storm which has wiped out their heat and power.

Location, location, location.

We will pay for this sunshine later in the year though. Even as I was working my way around the yard, I was doing drought triage - which plants will have to die of thirst in August, which ones might survive? The warnings have already been coming about water rationing so unless we receive an abnormal amount of rain and snow in the next 8 weeks, I know it'll be a parched summer.

But in the meantime, the daylilies are sprouting and the peach tree is already pushing buds. I don't know how to tell them - "Stop! there won't be enough for you to drink!" I think I'd best stock up now on buckets to keep in the shower and at the kitchen sink.

BTW - those are "sunshine cupcakes", not deviled eggs. Aren't they incredibly cute? Lifted off the internet of course....

Just So Wrong

2009-01-31T10:57:00.000-08:00

We've started our annual health insurance review at work early this year, anticipating the usual bad news. It's worse than we expected. The premium increases haven't been posted yet but we were told to expect somewhere between an additional 15 to 30%, on top of the age related adjustments. Also, the out of pocket maximums have doubled, mental health coverage has decreased, prescription drug coverage has decreased, HRA contribution limits are cut by 50% and the HRA payment arrangement has been restructured. Bottom line - less coverage for 30% more money. It's just so wrong.

By coincidence, this bad news arrived in the same week as the SoCal octuplets. After a sleepless night worrying about our employees and their benefits, I got up to news about the medical accomplishment of a multiple-multiple birth. A birth which required 46 doctors, 4 delivery rooms, unlimited support staff, and an open ended NICU stay for 8 premature babies.

I was not planning to write about this, because I do believe in privacy rights and in the woman's right to choose. But as the details of this situation trickle out, I only have one thought: it's just so wrong.

I feel sad for the young, single mother because I belive there are mental health issues involved. Why else would a single, unemployed mother of 6 children under the age of 8 choose to deliver 8 more? It's either extreme irresponsibility or mental illness. I'm trying to be kind in choosing the latter.

But I also think it provides part of the explanation for our increasing health care costs. While my co-workers and I scrimp and save - setting aside money for the high deductibles, seeing only doctors within the network, getting our generic drugs via mail order, using a cut-rate lab where we're never sure we can trust the results, and self treating until illness is really, really apparent - while we're doing all that, one woman can be implanted with 8 embryos and then use huge amounts of health care dollars to bring fragile, sick babies into the world. The medical advances of our time have been phenomenal. But they are not always used for the greater good and situations like this only increase the burden for those of us leading boring, normal, middle class lives.

Health care premiums are strangling the company I work for and the new out-of-pocket limits will place some of our employees at high risk for financial disaster if a serious illness or accident strikes their family. It's depressing, discouraging, and complicated. We have a system which doesn't seem to really satisfy anyone - except the rare case like the one above. I only have one thought today - it's just so wrong.

Joe the Realtor

2009-01-28T19:12:00.000-08:00

I recycled an 18" stack of catalogues right before Christmas, but they still keep coming! It's like a plague - order from one company, and get placed on the mailing list of 5 others. Some days I have 3 catalogues from the same company in my mailbox, each with a different cover. I don't see how that can be worth the printing/marketing costs but apparently it is, or it wouldn't be happening.

Anyway...as I was waiting for my tea to brew this a.m., I started flipping through one of the more recent mailings, which promised "a showcase of catalog best sellers". (If your taste runs to slogan tees and gadgets, maybe.) On page 23 is the "St Joseph Home Sellers Kit" for only $12.95!

Now, I was raised Roman Catholic so I can write about this. I know my patron saints and their personalized intercessions. St. Joseph, with his contractor/carpenter background, is the patron saint of house sellers and buyers (and numerous other situations including fathers and whole countries). According to this catalog, "burying a statue of St. Joseph on property to be sold dates back to medieval times, but...became widely popular in the U.S. in the 20th century..." Widely popular? Are you sure? The kit contains an 8" resin statue, instruction card, prayer card, and interesting background information about the origin of the practice. OMG!

I know the housing market is in dire straights but I didn't know it was THIS bad! But hey, if burying St. Joe in my backyard will bring the value of my house back up to 2002 levels (when I purchased), I'm all for it! It would be great Return on Investment - spend $12.95 and get back $50,000. Maybe I can research "patron saint of the postal service", who can then help me get off the mailing lists. Don't laugh... I'm sure he/she is out there.

I'm saving the catalog. If Obama can't get property values restored, Joe the Realtor is going down - into one of my flowerbeds that is....

Mr. President

2009-01-21T14:20:00.000-08:00

The past few weeks have been an eye-opener for me. I supported Barack Obama from the very early days because I liked what I was hearing. I found his racial background interesting and liked the thought of having a black woman and her daughters in the White House, because of the example they could set. But race was not a major factor in casting my vote, and it wasn't for any of my pro-Obama friends as far as I know.

However once the votes were cast, I began hearing the same message over and over and over from blacks and minorities: "I never thought this would happen in my lifetime!" The joy and pride and excitement and relief and tears have taken me by surprise. I have completely, totally underestimated the psychological burden our minorities have carried. If someone had asked me the same question - will we ever elect a black? - I would have answered, "Of course, if he/she has the education and leadership skills needed to do the job." I believe the same for gender - that's it's only a matter of the right person before we elect a woman to the position. But it's obvious now that that was naive on my part and that millions of dark skinned citizens did not believe American would do so. I'm so happy that they're finally, finally wrong.

And I confess to blatantly "lifting" this photo from someone else's blog. I couldn't help myself.

Grazie, but no!

2009-01-11T12:26:00.000-08:00

I've just come back from a Sunday shopping trip to Costco. It's amazing how many families were there, just browsing through the aisles of stuff and partaking of the free food samples. I was headed into the food section when I overhead an earnest, energetic worker offering samples of the "new, imported, Italian salmonella pasta"! She was referring to her note cards and following the cues perfectly..... except I'm quite sure she meant "semolina" pasta, not "salmonella".

But who knows, maybe I inadvertently discovered the source of the recent outbreaks! I passed on the pasta sample, even though I'm quite sure it was delicious. I'm just getting over one illness, no need to risk another!

Chips, no dip

2009-01-06T22:14:00.000-08:00

Continuing on with bowl fever, I watched the "Tostitos" Fiesta Bowl last night. I was mildly rooting for Ohio due to 1) an aversion to all things Texan because of G.W.Bush and 2) a very tenuous connection to OSU (my ex-husbands' younger brother attended Ohio on a sports scholarhip 35 years ago. Tenuous indeed.)

But it was hard not to love those Longhorns - from the ridiculous, ginormous longhorn steer, and the kitzy-cowboy band uniforms, and the Texas football fever in the stands. But, know what I loved most of all? The color of the football jerseys!

That is an impossibly beautiful color for a football team! I couldn't decide whether to call it Roasted Pumpkin, or Burnt Sugar, or Caramel Cream, or Nutmeg Spice, or Autumn Haze. And to pair it with rich cream helmets and accents - perfection! I would choose that color for a fall wedding, if I was young and had a Prince Charming, maybe paired with cream color roses and deep brown velvet ribbons.

I suspect it is meant to duplicate the color of a Texan longhorn steer, but it gets my vote for Favorite Football Jersey of All Time. That's how much I like it!

Oh yeah, the Longhorns won the game too. As if that matters....

Bowl Me Over

2009-01-05T14:57:00.000-08:00

As it turned out, I could have skipped the shopping excursions for cold medicine because I didn't have a cold. After acknowledging to myself that I needed a doctor, I was diagnosed with "right lower lobe pneumonia" and promptly placed on antibiotics. Guess that explains 15 days of coughing, fever, chills, congestion, and pain. The miracle drugs are working and I'm well on my way to recovery now. I called in sick this morning tho, after two weeks of "vacation". Fortunately, I am the HR department, so don't have to provide documentation.

Since I was already laying around on the couch, I caught quite a few of the college bowl games over New Years. It wasn't just my low oxygen saturation level or general malaise either, I do enjoy watching these once-a-year matchups. I prefer the traditional names of course. I like the history and cache behind a Gator Bowl or Sugar Bowl or Cotton Bowl or Rose Bowl. But please, who actually wants to admit to watching the Chick-fil-A or Autozone or Capital One Bowl? I know I don't.

It's not completely honest though, to pretend that the football game is the main attraction for me. I understand the basic framework of the game so I can follow the action - but here's a list of the things I really like to watch:

The intensity and concentration of the (usually handsome) coaches as they pace the sidelines. I like how they never concede defeat until the game ends and how they congratulate the other side before leaving the field.
The energy and exuberance of the marching bands. Those kids are awesome - having so much fun in such dorky outfits!
The beauty, athleticism, and perfection of the cheerleaders. I know, it's probably an outdated sexist gender-diminishing activity but come on - have you ever seen anything so SoCal as a blonde, ponytailed, USC cheerleader in her little pleated skirt and white appliqued sweater? If I had a daughter, I would totally allow her to be a USC cheerleader. As long as she kept up her GPA in a realistic career path major.
The spontaneity and spirit and enjoyment of life displayed by the students, parents, and alumni in the stands. I like the "game faces" and colors and loyalty and camaraderie in the crowds.
The goofy, illogical mascots. That Georgia bulldog pouting on the sidelines was hilarious, as was the giant orange Clemson tiger and the gaudy USC "Trojan". Roman centurions are rolling in their graves I'm sure, hopefully in laughter.
The unpredictability of what happens on the field. (Yes, I do watch parts of the game too. ) Even tho many of these players go on to professional sports, they're not there yet. These games seem to contain just a bit more risk and more surprise than the NFL ones - making them more fun to watch.

So, bowl me over. I have pneumonia and bowl fever. Looks like I'll be watching the BCS championship game Thursday night!

Coughin' the night away

2008-12-30T15:38:00.000-08:00

Have you tried buying over-the-counter cold medicine lately? If not, here's a piece of advice. Pretend like you're going to the airport instead of the drug store and take your photo ID!

Because of really, really bad luck I've been sick for the past 10 days. I know it's 10, because I've been counting each one. In order to get through the Christmas celebrations, I needed heavy duty cold medication. So far I've consumed one bottle of cough syrup, one dose of Nyquil, one package of Sudafed, and one large package of throat lozenges. The coughy syrup was useless, the Nyquil turned me into a zombie with nightmares, and the Sudafed allowed me to breathe through Christmas dinner. I'm sucking on a throat lozenge right now.

But buying that stuff was not easy. I had to show ID each time and provide my signature. The Sudafed was the most complicated - I had to get that from the pharmacist and sign a ledger book like notary publics' use. Apparently I did not appear to be a meth-head because I was allowed to buy it. Whew!

Yesterday, out of sheer desperation and low oxygen levels, I purchased a "neti pot", upon recommendation by my wholistic health friend. The helpful sales clerk offered a demonstration but I declined. How hard can it be to pour water up your nose? Anyway, I will save you all the gross descriptions but I felt like I was undergoing self-induced waterboarding! I haven't been brave enough to try it again today and I don't see any huge improvement in my condition either.

I just turned down an invitation to go out for cocktails tonight. Now I really am feeling miserable.

Two Thumbs: Up or Down?

2008-12-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

I walked out of a movie this afternoon, which I haven't done anytime in recent memory. I'm a rather careful movie goer and most of the time make good picks. But this one caught me by surprise.

The critics said "Best Audience Picture of 2008", "A Soaring, Crowd Pleasing Fantasy", "A Movie to Celebrate", and more. I'd seen the director and the actors interviewed on TV, watched a trailer, read the reviews, and thought I understood what I was going to see. Wrong!

Slumdog Millionaire has an R rating for "some violence, language, and disturbing images." A more accurate description would be "scenes of torture, debilitating poverty, deliberate mutilation of a child, murders, abuse, and extreme neglect." That was only the first 45 minutes. I couldn't take it - I'm not naive about third world countries and slum conditions but this was brutal. It just seemed wrong to be watching it during Christmas vacation and my friend and I agreed to cut it short.

The really nice theater attendant said about 4 people per showing have the same reaction, and that the film is lighter and more positive in the 2nd half. I will have to wait for the DVD. Maybe on a smaller screen, where I can skip thru entire scenes, it will be easier to watch. I'm not sure.

But it felt very good to walk out onto an American street surrounded by clean, well-cared for children enjoying the freedom of their winter break. Ironically, I suppose the effect the movie had on me is indicative of great film making. I will take a deep breath and try it again, but not on a big screen. Not to discourage anyone else, but make sure you're prepared!

Merry merry merry....

2008-12-26T13:21:00.000-08:00

My goodness. Looks like my blog went on Christmas vacation while I was playing hostess, tour guide, and party goer. I'm feeling a bit licked clean - sort of like my mini-trifle dish here which was once filled with a Gingerbread, Toasted Almond, and Lemon Curd trifle. (My own invention and it was awesomely delicious as you can see from the dish. Ooops. I typed crud instead of curd. It was lemon curd!)

Things are almost back to normal now. The crumbs are vaccuumed, leftovers wrapped, wine glasses washed, bathroom restocked, recycling bin filled, and tree skirt straightened. The out of town visitors have departed, and it's just me, the cats, and new Sony Bravia flatscreen TV in the house tonight. I plan to light the new lavender spa candle, put on the new cushy socks, open one of the bottles of wine, and watch a DVD. Sounds nice doesn't it?

But what the heck - the credit card statement arrived today. Party poopers.

Heavenly Posts

2008-12-12T22:33:00.000-08:00

I was without my computer for three nights this week, which felt a bit weird. How dependent I've become on my internet hobbies! However, it also gave me time to finally look at the manual for my new digital camera and play around with it. So here are more (better) angel pictures!

NOLA gets featured again - her first shot was not as flattering.

Now you get the full effect of her "do"!

This one is Battenburg lace. Very pristine.

She's a Country Girl - made from patchwork quilt scraps.

Hand painted wood, with lace accent. She looks Russian or Eastern European to me.

A definite favorite. She always hangs front & center on the tree. Painted wood with metal wings & stars.

An Obama girl - her banner says "Vote for Change, 08" Just kidding - it really says "Joy to the World". She's lovely.

Another one of lace - pleated top to bottom this time.

A group shot.

A forest angel - she's painted to look like a birch tree.

Very pretty for something made of string and ribbon.

Serene and old fashioned - she's a bit Edwardian.

Haute Couture of Heaven: thin, rich, and elegant.

OK, there's 12 - one for each of days remaining until Christmas. That's probably enough angels for one site!

Droppin' Shoppin'

2008-12-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

I shouldn't be allowed in the stores right now. I took today off from work and drove 35 miles to one of the nicer malls in my area. The goal was to find something festive to wear to the company holiday party, which is this Saturday night. I've known the date of the party for 9 months, but still, it always seems to creep up on me and just like every other year I'm scrambling for an outfit again. Anyway, I had very good intentions.

But after 3.5 hours at the mall I had 2 lipsticks, a miniature Noel pitcher, a holly print tablecloth, spiced cedar foaming bath wash,and 3 pieces of Analon cookware! (These were not gifts either - all for me!) Everything except the lipstick was on sale. According to the store, I saved well over $100.00 on the cookware alone. However, if you noticed, I seem to have been in every department except clothing.

So I took my purchases to the car, stopped for a bite to eat because by then I was starving and then began the clothing search in earnest. Nothing fits right after lunch - I know that. In the end, I bought a cool black & white scoop neck cotton top, on sale for $29.99. But unless I can channel Scarlett and get creative with a tablecloth, I still have nothing to wear Saturday night. Aaarrggggh!

Angel Baby

2008-12-07T17:23:00.000-08:00

Well it took 6 hours but the tree is up and looks very beautiful, if I do say so myself! Actually, I could say it looks downright heavenly since it is covered in stars and angel ornaments.

Thirty years ago, before angels became trendy and new-agey, a friend gave me a beautiful little porcelain angel ornament. The next year I bought another one. Then I started collecting angels on a casual basis. Now I have over 100 -- more than enough to do an entire tree. Each one has a story. Some were gifts, some were handmade, some were purchased on my travels. Here a just a few pictures:

She started it, with her porcelain perfection!

Bringing Tidings of Comfort & Joy

She's from New Orleans, LA. Her pigtails don't show well, but they're angelic.

She's Latina, from San Diego/Tijuana and is hand cut,hammered tin.

A Native American Angel, from Cody WY

This beautiful baby is afraid of hot water. He's all pasta, even the tiny little stars on his (wooden) head. I've had him 25 years, with only one little chip!

Hand crocheted by my sister, around a wooden clothes pin. So sweet!

Ribbons and bows - so simple!

Ginger's from the Great Smoky Mts. in TN. She's the only one who came with a name.

Nature Girl - she's a fir cone from the beautiful Pacific Northwest

Animal Kingdom - an angelic cat is an oxymoron. She's more likely to have horns than a halo.

I have about 80 more - but isn't Christmas fun?

Viva Las Christmas!

2008-12-04T22:05:00.000-08:00

Either the Christmas season or the Las Vegas mob has arrived on my block. I'm not sure which. Three of the younger dads in the neighborhood appear to have an informal "my display is bigger than your display" competition running and the houses are lit from the curbs to the roof tops. Truly, they do resemble miniature Vegas casinos!

There are inflated Santas, snowmen, elves, candy canes, trains, and gift boxes. There are moving, grazing white deer. There are cone shaped trees and icicles and Noels and Merry Christmases. There are hedge covers, lawn stakes, wreaths, garlands, and stars. If Home Depot sells it, it's here!

This will give me an excuse to try the night time feature on my camera. But it's too cold out tonight. I'll try it on Saturday, just in case the guys install a few more features over the weekend.

Sometimes I wonder tho - aren't children getting confused about Christmas images? When I was little, we only had the Nativity scene and Santa. One year Macy's in SF had Mickey, Minnie, Donald, and Pluto. That just did not seem right.

Anyway, the season has started. I hope the energy grid in my neighborhood survives the next 4 weeks. : - )0

Clear!

2008-11-30T10:55:00.000-08:00

Don't have time to visit the gym right now? Here's an easy, fool proof way to increase your heart rate without ever leaving your car. 1) Drive to San Francisco to take in the holiday sights and atmosphere. 2) Cross the Bay Bridge and take the 5th Street exit. Proceed to Taylor and turn right. 3) Get ready now. Proceed up Taylor and turn right onto Sutter. 4) Feel your heartrate jump instantly into The Zone. Because Sutter is a one-way street and you just turned onto it going the wrong way!

That's what I did yesterday and realized my mistake immediately when all I could see was the front end view of 3 taxis approaching at taxi speeds. "Sh#t, sh*t, sh#t,sh*t" was my articulate response. But the amazing part was that the taxis were 3/4 of a block away, since they had been stopped at a red light. I made a Steve McQueen worthy U-turn across 4 lanes of Sutter and shot out of there like Santa going up the chimney. My friends (who may never let me be the driver again) said, "Let's not talk about this."

But I knew you'd all like this aerobic tip. Just try to time the red lights properly. Whew....

Aromatherapy

2008-11-27T10:29:00.001-08:00

OMG, my house smells incredible right now. I just finished my Thanksgiving dishes:

Green Beans with Mushrooms, Bacon & Caramelized Onions ,

Honey Roasted Yams with Cayenne, Cinnamon,& Lime Juice,

and Gingerbread with Crystalized Ginger & Lemon Zest Whipped Cream.

I walked outside and almost swooned when I came back in - that's how good it is. If I could bottle it, I'd never have to worry about my 401k again. But I can't so maybe that makes it even more special. This is going to be good for my car too, as I drive across town in about 30 minutes.

Happy Feasting Everyone!

Thanks Full

2008-11-25T21:20:00.000-08:00

Wow, it's only about 36 hours until our very special day of Thanksgiving, where we publicly celebrate all the wonderful, nice things in our lives. I try to do that in small ways everyday, but the holiday is so much more official. In addition to all the big things like family, friends, good job, good health, good health insurance, a home, 2 pets, adequate food & clothing, pleasant neighbors, and a generally enjoyable life here's a (very) random list of things I'm thankful for:

iPod. I love my iPod!

TV remote control - I can switch between House and Dancing with the Stars without disturbing the two cats on my lap.

My Kitchen Aid mixer - responsible for my reputation as baker of killer brownies and chocolate chip cookies.

Q-Tips. Useful for lots of tasks, not just for ears.

Rotary fabric cutter. I still have a quilt I cut with scissors and a cardboard template, but that was so primitive. The rotary and ruler, like rules.

An car with an automatic transmission. Especially when driving in San Francisco.

Fast Track for the bridge tolls. Especially when driving to & from San Francisco.

Hot water, bath soap, and deodorant. Makes public gatherings very pleasant. Without those, I would probably be a hermit.

Netflix. Absence of those red envelopes can spur minor anxiety attacks.

Supermarket grocery carts. Imagine trying to get all the Thanksgiving ingredients without one!

Disposable soft contact lenses. I can wear sunglasses, ski goggles, and snorkeling mask, look better, and pretend to not need reading glasses.

Black, 100% cotton, stretchy, elastic waist, comfortable sweatpants which are going to come in very handy over the next 5 weeks.

There's an even dozen. Have I forgotten anything important? Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Literary Smackdown

2008-11-22T20:49:00.000-08:00

Pssssstttttt...... that's the sound of a rapidly deflating ego. Mine.

It started a couple of weeks ago when a friend forwarded a website link for amateur writers. It's an interesting site. Anonymous authors submit essays which are reviewed and ranked by anonymous readers. High ranking, ie popular, essays are awarded cash prizes. My friend likes my writing style and said "go for it!

So I did. I cut and pasted one of my blog pieces and spiffed it up a little bit. Then I waited for the anonymous reviews, assuming they would be impressed with my talents. Hah - I had a rude awakening. The reviews were less than complimentary. One said the piece "needs a lot of work". One said "story doesn't really lead anywhere special". One said I was "lacking in compassion" and another said "oddball. no heart." I'm not sure if they meant me or the essay!

My ego went down faster than Cindy-the-blow-up-doll when she was accidentally punctured with a nail file at my cousin's wild & crazy bachelorette party. I moped around the house for a couple of hours thinking about what a cold, heartless, insensitive, mediocre writer I am. Then I started to get irritated. So I logged back on the site to read some of the prize winning essays. Then I got really irritated. For the ones which had the most reviews and highest ratings were not all well written, but they are all very sad or emotional - tear jerkers about trauma or drama or painful life experiences.

I'm onto them now. I am going to resubmit. If they want emotion, I can do that. Nobody is going to say "needs a lot of work" about my next piece. I'll keep you posted.

Global Warming

2008-11-16T09:26:00.000-08:00

Seasonal change in my part of California is very fluid. It see-saws back and forth, rather than sliding smoothly across the calendar. For example, last weekend the sky was overcast and gray, temperatures were in the mid-50's, the furnace kicked on every 45 minutes, and I made a big pot of chicken chili. The season was late fall, sliding into early winter.

But this weekend? Not a single cloud, temps in the high 80's and at 8:30 p.m. last night I had windows and doors open to let the house cool off. I had grilled salmon and green salad for dinner. On November 15th. The season was early fall, sliding backwards to late summer.

I'm not trying to say this is a problem - but it is disorienting at times. The trees where I work do not seem confused tho - they definitely know it's autumn!

Please Don't Tell Michelle

2008-11-12T18:43:00.000-08:00

OK, now I KNOW this presidential campaign has melted my brain. Obama was in my dreams last night, and it wasn't a Martin Luther King "I have a dream" theme. More like a Bill Clinton "I am a dream boat" kind of theme. Thanks goodness all I did (in the dream) was reach out and touch his fingertips. Those long, slender, sensitive looking fingertips. Geez Louise! He's a married man with two kids and he's ten years younger than I am. Besides, I hate politics.

This could be an interesting four years. I'm turning off CNN. What happens in the subconscious should stay in the subconscious. I swear to all my fellow Americans - that is NOT why I voted for him!

Country First

2008-11-11T09:27:00.000-08:00

Several members of my family have gone beyond patriotic slogans and gestures. They've served in the military and given precious years to their country. This post is for them.

My Dad: US Army, WWII, South Pacific

My Oldest Brother: Infantry, US Marine Corps., Vietnam

My 2nd Brother: US Navy, USS Coral Sea, Vietnam

My Oldest Nephew: US Marine Corps, Desert Storm, Kuwait

My 2nd Nephew: US Marine Corps, Desert Storm, Kuwait

My 2nd Nephew's Wife: US Marine Corps, Desert Storm, Kuwait (romance in the desert!)

My 4th Niece's Husband: US Marine Corps Reserve, Iraq

My 11th Nephew: Oregon National Guard, Army Reserve, slated for Afghanistan June 2009

Thank you soldiers and sailor. Mission Accomplished.

This Little Piggy

2008-11-09T17:24:00.000-08:00

My Missouri Grandmother had a folk-art plaque in her kitchen which read "Never wallow with a pig. You'll both get dirty but the pig likes it."

Gramma, I've been wallowing with the pigs. Our local newspaper has an on-line site, of course, where readers can leave comments on items of interest. This was heavily used during the election and the most commented one right now is the "what will Sarah Palin do next?" article. There seems to be a small, but adamantly devoted, ultra-conservative faction here in town and they post frequent, repetitive, negative & under-educated opinions. I've been drawn to it like a fly to pig manure.

But the thing is, it's way too easy to get them ruffled and riled. I'm guilty of manipulation because I recognize the hot buttons and know how to express some things in ways guaranteed to stir up the stye. I'm swearing off it tho. It's not a good use of my time and not a productive way to move our country forward. So, I'm making a virtual vow - no more intentional pig prodding or slop sloshing. I'm pulling my boots out of the muck and retreating to drier ground.

The rest of the little piglets can keep snorting but my snout is out. (and no, I'm not trying to insult anyone with the pig reference - it's just a literary expression.) Oink.

2008-11-08T11:55:00.001-08:00

My head hurts this morning. I went out with friends last night to celebrate two birthdays. After we finished our thin-crust wood fired pizza and wine, we decided to go take a look at the new resort hotel which has just opened in our town.

It's lovely, in a spare, modern kind of way. Lots of stone and metal surfaces, minimalist artwork and avante garde floral pieces. The courtyard has a combo gas fire pit and fountain, adjacent to a large pool and spa. The pool and spa were both empty. There were a few young, hip, upper income types sitting around the fire/fountain. Water, fire, and alcohol: a recipe for instant companionship.

But my friend and I sat at the chic bar inside. Here's the interesting part. You can't just order a G & T or marguerita on the rocks. You browse thru a liquor menu, similiar to a wine list. When you find the premium brand you'd like - vodka, gin, tequila, single malts, etc. - then the bartender comes over and discusses how you'd like it mixed. It was a bit intimidating and all I wanted was a little nightcap. My friends are more savvy than I so I just said, "I'll have what they're having."

That turned out to be one of the most delicious cocktails I've had in a long time - fresh ruby red grapefruit juice with a premium vodka. I don't know what else was in it, but it was sublime! Smooth, sweet, tart, with just a little tiny hint of the vodka. It tasted so healthy and fresh that we all had two more. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

But now my head hurts. And I just checked my wallet and realized how much those little designer drinks cost me. Ouch. Hand me the Tylenol please! My weekend entertainment budget is shot. Looks like it'll be Netflix, Panda Garden Express, and the couch for me tonight.

Shalom!

2008-11-06T21:24:00.000-08:00

The winery where I work provides custom crush facilities for very small producers. This year, for the first time, we have kosher wine being made on premise. It's been an interesting cultural experience but also a bit stressful. Only the 2 rabbis and their Orthodox winemaker are allowed to touch anything involved in the process: grapes, yeast, tanks, pumps, filters etc. If the equipment stops working, we have to call a cell phone #. If the power goes out, we can't turn it back on. If we accidentally touch the tank, the wine cannot be labeled kosher.

And I am an awful person. Because each time I walk by the tank with big Caution signs on it, I want to reach out a fingertip and touch the stainless steel. No one but God would see me. No one else would know that the wine had been contaminated by an unbeliever.

But I won't do it. Maybe it's my Catholic guilt. Maybe it's because I don't want to get fired. Or maybe it's because sacred is sacred, even if, as an outsider, I can't really believe fully. Still, it will be relief when the wine is bottled and removed from temptation.

Thrill, Baby, Thrill!

2008-11-04T21:37:00.000-08:00

America, I am so proud of you! We can, we did, we will. I'm a 57 year old white female and I'm very happy for my country tonight. We chose hope, not fear. We're looking towards the future, not pining for the past. Congratulations. Let's work together now.

Sinning on Sunday

2008-11-02T09:55:00.001-08:00

I'm sure there are people who use their extra hour in the fall to be productive or useful. I'm not one of them. I cherish my extra 60 minutes and look forward to it each year. I never set the clock back at night. I do it about 15 minutes after I wake up and then spend the next hour in a state of the easiest deadly sin: sloth!

Here's what I've done so far:

Curled up in bed with the two cats, a cup of Lady Grey tea, and a new library book: 25 minutes

Added extra time to my morning shower, trying out the Vanilla-Apricot body scrub I got as a gift: 10 minutes

Cooked and ate breakfast, SITTING DOWN at the table with another cup of Lady Grey and the newest issue of Cooking Light mag: 15 minutes

Logged on to the NY times and read this column and this column: 10 minutes

That's it! 60 minutes of pretty much nothing but it felt so good....now I have to leave, run 4 errands, clean up the garden a bit, and complain when it's dark at 5:30. Happy Autumn Everyone!

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

2008-11-01T21:21:00.000-07:00

I have just discovered that I'm getting old. I've been alive during 11 US presidential terms now. I was planning to write on my memories of all the Presidents until I looked up the names/terms and realized the post would have to be 11 paragraphs long. Like anyone would stay awake through that? I don't think so.

I've always thought that Eisenhower was president when I was born, but I was wrong. When people started pinning"I Like Ike" buttons onto their tweed coats, I was already toddling around throwing temper tantrums. (I don't remember the buttons or the tantrums, but I've seen pictures of the first and been reminded several times about the second. Thanks Mom.) Harry Truman was in the Oval Office when I arrived. Followed by Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush I, Clinton, and Bush II. Whoever is elected in 3 days will make my list an even 12. I would very much like it to be 'that one" - a young, energetic, intelligent, calm, inclusive, pragmatic, articulate, contemporary man. But it remains up to the American voters.

Over the course of eleven terms, I have never seen a US President in person, but I've seen one assassination, one resignation, and one impeachment. (On TV I mean) The assassination and resignation were national tragedies. The impeachment seemed like a stupid and expensive political vendetta to me, although I know not everyone saw/sees it like that. So I won't write about that situation - it is much easier to set aside than the other two.

I was a 7th grader in Catholic school when John F. Kennedy was shot. My parents were both devout Catholics and staunch Republicans so his election was met with mixed emotions in our house. The day of his death, I was in class with 30 other tweeners passing notes and resisting education when there was a knock on the classroom door. Sister Angela, the Vice Principal, was in the hall and when our nun, Sister Mary Frances, actually left us unsupervised in the room we knew something was up. She came back in with a face as white as the wimple under her veil and with tears running down her cheeks. We were stunned. She told us the president had been shot, school was cancelled, parents had been called, and we were being sent home until further notice. We gathered up our homework in silence and left the building. I rounded up my younger siblings and we walked the 4 blocks home, conflicted about being free from school under such horrible circumstances.

My mom had the TV on when we got there, something that was normally forbidden during daytime hours. We watched as Walter Cronkite told America that JFK was dead. We watched as Lyndon Johnson was sworn in with Jacqueline Kennedy at his side in blood stained clothes. We watched as John John saluted the casket and a nation mourned. We watched as Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald. We watched over the next several years as the nation plunged into the chaos of Vietnam, civil rights, summers of love, and two more assassinations: Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy.

Barack Obama was 2 years old when Kennedy was shot. Sarah Palin had not yet been born. Perhaps that explains why Governor Palin has not responded more forcefully to the angry voices at her rallies who call out "terrorist" or "kill him" when she mentions Obama's name. Having never seen the results, I think she truly doesn't understand the implications of encouraging anger and hatred toward a political figure. We will never know why Lee Harvey Oswald felt the need to kill Jack Kennedy, but we understand the results of his actions. When I ate breakfast on November 22, 1963, John Kennedy was our President. Shortly after lunch 5 hours later, Lyndon Baines Johnson was in his place.

Nixon's resignation was not as heart rending or dramatic but it too was a national tragedy. By 1973 I was a young adult, attending a community college and working just enough to eat, pay tuition, and buy textbooks. I didn't have much interest in politics but it was impossible not to be aware of Watergate and the ensuing uproar. We weren't as cynical and suspicious then and my friends and I were truly shocked to be told that an American president had lied, cheated, and spied on his fellow citizens. His decision to resign was a relief and ironically, gave him a way to exit with a tiny bit of dignity and sympathy.

I was working as a sales clerk at J.C. Penney's and was on my way to the employee break room on the evening he resigned. I had to walk thru the electronics department to get there and I noticed the President's face was on each TV screen, with clusters of silent shoppers standing near. I watched the speech, then ate my tuna sandwich and returned to the floor. That was it. No long discussions, no prolonged grief, no long lasting psychological effects. One dishonorable president was gone and his neutral, affable VP finished out the term.

So my conclusion from all this reminiscing is that I need to just stay calm and accept the results of the upcoming election. Our nation has survived many things - good presidents, bad president, mediocre presidents, and tragedy - and we will survive another four years with our new leader. And if not, I guess there's always Scotland. See Hit the Road Jack.

Say What?

2008-10-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

This political campaign is burning my brain cells. Tonight on the treadmill I heard Larry King say, "Stay with us. We'll be back after the break with moron Sarah Palin." Geez, that seemed a bit harsh. Then I realized what he actually said was "We'll be back after the break with more on Sarah Palin." Whew.

Right after that, the man in the commercial complained about being "nipple and dimed" by his phone company. I think its time for new ear buds.

Hit the Road Jack

2008-10-23T21:25:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like a down & dirty presidential election to make me want to leave the county permanently! I've been mulling over an exit strategy in case the votes don't fall where I think they should on Nov. 4th. So far, tho, I haven't come up with a viable alternative.

Canada? Too cold, eh? Plus I'd be living next door to an obnoxious neighbor.
Mexico? Can't eat raw salads. And, same neighbor problem as above.
Brazil? Are you kidding? I'd need general sedation to wax certain body parts!
Chile? Nice wines. But I'd be lost at night if I couldn't see the Big Dipper.
Australia? Kangaroos make me nervous and I hit myself with a boomerang once.
Japan? Earthquakes, raw fish, suffocating subway cars. Guess not.
China? I'm not sure they eat chocolate. That would definitely be a problem.
India? Snakes. Large snakes. Large poisonous snakes.
Africa? But where in Africa? What if I forgot which country I was living in?
Russia? Hey, I saw Dr. Zhivago. Canada would be tropical compared to that.
Italy? Divine art, food, & wine. Heaven on earth except for the lunatic drivers.
France? Divine food, wine, & architecture. I'd look stupid in a beret.
England? Possibly, but I'm not to the manor born. More like scullery maid.
Scotland? Bingo! It's cold but beautiful. They almost speak English, but not quite. There's a bookstore on every corner and men wearing kilts. Food could be tolerated with some home cooking and avoidance of haggis. Aye, I'd be returnin' to the homeland. Bring on the tartans! If they will let me in, that is.

It Was a Crime of Fashion

2008-10-23T07:11:00.000-07:00

Hey RNC, you should have called Stacy & Clinton! They could have done your candidate's hair, makeup, and wardrobe makeover in New York for only $5,000 and saved you $145,000! Oh well, too late now.

Was your decision fiscally responsible tho? I lost $40,000 from my 401k last week. If there's anything left in your checking account on Nov. 4th, would you consider a small donation to my wardrobe budget? Just asking.....

Boo! Hoo Hoo

2008-10-21T19:46:00.000-07:00

Boy, oh boy, oh boy! I am SO guilty of blog neglect. I haven't been short on topics. In fact, I've started a list of potential posts, because there's some great material out there right now. But my head has been spinning between the political campaigns, the economy, some problems at work, and life in general. So, I will address a major problem tonight, something which comes up on an annual basis: Halloween Candy!

It might not seem like a major problem. But if you're trying to follow a healthy diet it is! I end up having the same conversation with myself each year: Granola Girl pushes for fruits, veggies, and whole grains while Sugar Baby pulls for chocolate, caramel, and nuts. The conversation goes something like this:

Granola Girl: "Halloween is 2 weeks away. You don't need to buy the candy just yet."

Sugar Baby: "You might as well get it now and save another trip to the store. Besides, what if they run out?"

Granola Girl: "The store is not going to run out - there's a million bags in here!"

Sugar Baby: "Yes, but it'll probably go on sale and everyone in town will be getting their supplies. Remember the time you waited until Oct. 30th and there was nothing left but those weird sour things that nobody wanted?!"

Granola Girl: "OK, I'll buy 4 bags and keep them in the cupboard for 2 weeks. Get the Butterfingers because I don't like those."

Sugar Baby: "Kids don't like Butterfingers. They won't want to come to your house. Get the Milky Ways, Snickers, Kit Kats, and Reeses PB Cups."

Granola Girl: "The candy is going into the cupboard. Do not even get the Halloween basket out."

Sugar Baby: "But it looks so festive and cute. It doesn't mean you have to start eating the candy or anything."

Granola Girl: "Why did we buy 4 bags? Last year only 40 kids came to the door. Guess that means there's a few extra bars here right?"

Sugar Baby: "Maybe I'll just have one while watching Dancing with the Stars."

Granola Girl: "How many of those candy bars did you eat?!"

Sugar Baby: "Three."

Granola Girl: "Then why are there six wrappers on the couch?"

Sugar Baby: "Three of those are from last night."

Granola Girl: "We didn't even HAVE the candy here last night!"

Sugar Baby: "I don't think 4 bags is gonna last until Oct. 31st. You should have bought at least 5."

Granola Girl: "OK, next year we're ignoring the holiday. You have zero self control and I'm tired of enabling your chocolate problem."

Sugar Baby: "Whatever. Here try a Kit Kat."

Granola Girl: "Thanks."

Stop, You're Scaring Me!

2008-10-08T20:28:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, I'm trying to decide between two different Halloween costumes this year. My first idea is to dress in heels, with a pencil skirt, colored v-neck sweater blouse with pendant, wear an ear bud and carry a large microphone. I could pop out the door and ask misleading, confusing questions like "When do you think we should bomb Pakistan?" or "My mortgage is a bit high - when can I expect my bailout check to arrive?" Can't guess what that's supposed to be? How about a GOTCHA Journalist!

But the other idea might be better. I need a calculator, laptop & printer, dark trousers, white shirt, and tasteful jacket. And a brand spanking new Lexus - I might have to forgo that prop. I could just paint my house windows instead, "Interest Only Loans! No Credit Checks! No Income Verification! Low Payments! Free Money!" Figured this one out already? Yes, it's a Predatory Lender!

OK, so the kids probably won't be thrilled - but I'll bet the parents will feel like screaming. Hehehehehehehehe!!

Make Mine a G & T Please

2008-10-05T16:12:00.000-07:00

Senator McCain was interviewed by NPR last week, which I listened to on my morning commute. At one point, he was asked about a distortion of fact in one of his approved political ads. He responded by saying disdainfully, "well, that might be something discussed at a Georgetown cocktail party"... or a phrase very close to that.

I had been a bit bored up until that point. But then I remembered, hey, I've BEEN to a Georgetown cocktail party! Granted it was about 25 years ago, but still... it qualifies as a genuine experience.

I was a tourist tag-along with an ag group which my Then-Significant-Other was actively involved with. I don't remember now if it was grape growers or vintners or farm bureau business but there were about 15 members who traveled to Washington DC one May. Because it was my birthday month and because I had never been to the capital, I convinced him that I really, really should be included. Hence, I accompanied the group and while they were stuck in hotel banquet rooms and meeting with (gasp) evil lobbyists, I got to roam the Mall and see the sites of our nation's capital.

I visited the monuments and stared at the White House from the front fence (pre 9/11, so security was much less obvious.) I wandered through the Smithsonian buildings and saw really cool things like Dorothy's ruby slippers, moon rocks, and inaugural gowns of the First Ladies. I cried at the Vietnam Memorial and JFK's grave, but not at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - probably because it's hard to cry in front of Marine Corps dress blues. I walked alone through Arlington cemetery and found civil war tombstones - rounded on top for the Union and pointed on top for the Confederacy. I saw panda bears at the zoo and US Senators in the Capitol Bldg. And then, on our third night there, the entire group was invited to a Georgetown Cocktail Party!

It was in the beautiful brownstone home of the (evil) lobbyists and was very cool! I remember a baby grand piano, a lovely urban garden beyond tall french doors, trays of champagne flutes and tasty hors d'ouevres, men in suits looking more handsome than normal, and entertaining social conversations. It was all very cordial and relaxing and, of course, I felt sophisticated and fortunate to be there - even tho describing myself as "sophisticated" is as inaccurate as most of the TV political ads! I would guess none of the other guests remember that evening, but it was my one and only Georgetown cocktail party.

So thanks, Senator McCain, for reminding me of that evening. If I ever get to visit Washington DC again, I'll take the subway to Georgetown, order a G & T, and reminisce about younger, more carefree days when the workings of Washington were respected and admired. Personally, I still think we have much to be proud of, even if it sometimes takes place with a cocktail and shrimp puff in hand!

Wall Street, Main Street, Side Street

2008-09-30T22:13:00.000-07:00

In 1973 my favorite college professor told her class of disgruntled 19 year olds "Life is not fair and the sooner you learn that, the sooner you can start thinking and behaving like adults." I don't remember anything else about the class, only her statement. It has stayed with me for 35 years and I've even found myself repeating it to one or another of my nieces or nephews.

But right now, I am complaining bitterly about the unfairness of life. It's not fair that I have paid my mortgages on time for 15 years and am now paying a very heavy price for those who don't/can't pay theirs. It's not fair that people bought houses they can't afford and took out loans they didn't understand and that, due to them, my house has lost over $100,000 in value this year. It's not fair that my 401k dropped 20% in value in 4 hours yesterday and that I will be looking forward to a Tuna Casserole Retirement. It's not fair that the company I work for is being sold and that after working there 20 years I have no guarantee of a job in 2009. It's not fair that I try to stay healthy - eating right, exercising, using moderation, limiting alcohol, chocolate, and delicious fat stuff - but my health insurance premiums keep rising because other people are dreadfully unhealthy. It's not fair that I pay my bills on time, put a little bit in the bank, invest in my retirement fund, do repairs and maintenance, try to be a good neighbor, friend and citizen and in the end - I'm not even on Main Street, I'm on some crummy little side street or run-down, grimy back street.

IT IS SO FREAKIN' UNFAIR I CAN'T STAND IT! So sorry Professor Lutz, but I guess even at 57 I'm not completely an adult.

That would be no.

2008-09-27T16:31:00.000-07:00

Most of the time I'm fine with the fact that I'm not a mom. Once in a while I wish things had worked out differently. And once in a very great while I'm actually thankful for my childless state.

I was standing at the computer terminals in the library today when the 5 year old boy next to me asked clearly and loudly, "Hey mom, can I sniff your armpit?" I may have snorted - I tried not to! But mom did not even flinch, just wrote down her book selections and said calmly, "That would be no."

I ended up behind them at the check out line too - just one of those days!

Hope Full

2008-09-25T20:43:00.000-07:00

It's hard to tell from my posts the last few weeks, but I am really not a political person. For the first time in my life, I have a yard sign and bumper sticker and I've contributed in small ways to a political campaign. It's not much, but I'm trying to do my American part for an important election. Two years ago I was full of hope - hoping that a candidate would emerge who could appeal to the middle majority and help heal the red-state, blue-state division we've had for 8 years. That hasn't happened.

So, I've adjusted my hopes. Here's what I'd like now:

I hope that we soon get tired of discussing funny sounding names, hair plugs and beauty pageant queens, animals wearing lipstick, views of foreign soil from front yards, inexperience vs inexperience, the value of diamond earrings, and apparent senior moments.

I hope we begin to look seriously at the problems the new administration will face: exploding federal deficit, trade imbalance, two unending wars, rising unemployment, rising health care costs, the banking meltdown, the housing meltdown, the energy crisis, etc. etc. etc. It's very frightening to look at, but we must.

I hope that whichever candidate "wins", he will accept graciously and then reach a hand in friendship to the other side.

I hope that the supporters of that side will do likewise with their friends, neighbors, and family who may have supported the other candidate.

I hope that whichever candidate "loses", he will concede graciously and then offer to help the other side in any way possible.

I hope that the supporters of that side will do likewise.

I hope that we can put away forever the red state/blue state description of our country. We're not on opposing sides - we all want life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, we just have differing ideas on how to get there.

I hope that the value on my home goes back up to a reasonable level, that my 401k regains some of the recent losses, that my health insurance stays the same, that I keep my job and that no one steals my yard sign.

I hope for all of the above for my family, my friends, my co-workers, and my neighbors.

I hope America is on a better path 4 years from now.

And I hope that now I can write about something else besides politics!

Hell-no, Dolly

2008-09-24T20:13:00.000-07:00

I'm not a Sarah Palin fan. I don't share her political views or some of her personal values and I don't think she should be next-in-line for the US presidency. But I think these dolls are really, really offensive. Come on America - what is wrong with you?! I thought the Sarah Palin "action figure" was just a Doonesbury joke until I came across this on the internet today. (Yes, I was at work. My bad.) Regardless of our feelings toward her as a political figure, she's also a mother of 3 young girls - how are they going to feel about their country when they see their mom portrayed like this? Am I the only one who finds these distasteful and disrespectful? I hope not.

Me, Myself, and I

2008-09-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

I am SO excited! Tomorrow I'm sending myself flowers. On Wednesday, I'll buy a box of See's Nuts & Chews. On Thursday, I'll open a bottle of Roederer Anderson Valley sparkling. On Friday, I'll go out to a favorite restaurant. And on Saturday, I'll have romance movie marathon! Why? Because it's National Singles Week, that's why!! How could I have missed this for the past, err let's just say "several", years? It's a holiday/celebration made just for Spynsters, so let the fun begin!

Actually for me, after the initial shock of abruptly becoming single wore off I was surprised to discover that I kinda liked being on my own. (OK, it took about 5 years to completely realize that but whatever...) Here are some advantages - other than the obvious ones like controlling the remote, eating cereal for dinner, and/or selecting "repeat" for all Patsy Cline songs:

1) Not having to check someone else's schedule when a last minute invitation or opportunity comes up. If I want to go, I can go. Easy and simple.

2) Watching 9 innings of Derek Jeter without having to pretend that I'm watching the game or that I'm a Yankee fan. Those pinstripes are awfully flattering on him tho.

3) Talking ridiculous, embarrasing baby talk to my two fat, lazy, useless, darling little cats. If I'm ever a victim of blackmail it will be because of a hidden tape recorder.

4) Experimenting with tofu recipes, for health reasons, without making someone else actually choke it down for dinner. Hey wait, how is that a benefit to me?

5) Not having in-laws. I know, some in-laws are wonderful, warm, loving people. The last one I had did not qualify. Besides, it's hard enough coping with one's own family - see Butt Ugly post.

OK, five is enough. Happy National Singles Week everyone!

Room 3406

2008-09-21T10:10:00.000-07:00

Posting in progress....I've been sitting by a hospital bed in Oregon for 5 days, which is why I haven't been blogging. All is well now, but I need some free time to write the post. Coming soon. Not that anyone has asked.

Cookie Crumbs....

2008-09-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

There are two political fundraisers this weekend in my town. The first, "Bake Back the White House" starts in about 45 minutes and I'm late delivering my "Obamazing" chocolate chip cookies. This grass roots event is expected to raise several hundred dollars. The other event is by invitation only, featuring an ex-Vice President and is being held at one of the smaller boutique wineries up-Valley. That one is limited to 100 guests at $14,000 apiece. So it will raise a little bit more than the Bake Sale. Their cookies won't be any better tho.

The Long Good-Bye

2008-09-08T20:23:00.001-07:00

Several weeks ago our local hospital announced that it will be eliminating positions and laying off approximately 100 employees. The community is in shock. Letters to the local newspaper contained common accusations: incompetent administrators, illegal immigrants, inappropriate use of the ER by Medi-Cal recipients, overuse of the ER by the uninsured, overbuilding of new facilities, yada, yada, yada. Perhaps all of these things contributed to the budget crisis - I don't work at the hospital, so I don't know.

At almost the same time this announcement was made, a friends' 92 year old mother was hospitalized. I think her story probably has just as much to do with the financial pinch as the reasons listed above. It's also a very common story and is not going to have a happy ending for anyone - not the family, not the hospital, not the mother. It's a modern American health care story - the long good-bye.

It started when Mrs. Dee arrived for a scan of her abdominal aortic aneurysm, which she has done every 6 months like clockwork. Unfortunately, this time she fell in the changing room and broke a hip. She was admitted and within several hours was in surgery for a hip replacement. I was surprised that that was the choice for a 92 year old, but as my friend pointed out, " we couldn't just let her lay in bed with a broken hip". The surgery went as well as could be expected and she was out of bed and sitting in a recliner chair for short periods of time the next two days.

However a 92 year old body doesn't react well to injury and her bowels began to shut down. On the 4th day after the hip replacement, she was returned to surgery to remove intestinal scar tissue from something she'd had done 45 years ago. It helped but she was still unable to take solid foods. Nutrients were being delivered thru the IV and NG tube. After the 2nd surgery, she was too weak to sit so the recliner chair was removed from her room.

Tragically, she also contracted MRSA, was moved into an ICU isolation unit, and started on massive doses of antibiotics. Her mental status was still fairly clear but her speech ability deteriorated. The family now has to gown & glove when visiting her, and she has trouble understanding what they're trying to tell her through the protective masks. My friend made posters with pictures and basic requests she can point to, which has helped communication somewhat.

But she was still unable to eat, so she was returned to surgery a third time for placement of a feeding tube. This decision caused a family split - one half saying, "she's had enough" and the other half saying, "we have to do all that we can". My friend says that the doctors are honest and objective, but the family doesn't want to accept that Mom is dying.

Mrs. Dee has been in the hospital 6 weeks now. In July, she was spry and contented. In September, she is disoriented, in pain, and is dying the death that none of us wants. She has a new hip which will never be used, a barely functioning colon, a feeding tube, IV's, an oxygen mask, a squabbling family, and has not been touched by a non-gloved hand for over a month. She is being kept alive by the talent and marvels of the American medical system, and the stubborn determination of one of her children. Pneumonia is developing now and a ventilator/respirator may be the next step. My friend doesn't want that, but she's outnumbered and outvoted by her siblings.

As an outsider, the process looks cruel and demeaning - but because of the nature of my parents' deaths I was not faced with making those decisions. I feel fortunate for that now.

So, Mrs. Dee has survived for (an unpleasant) 6 weeks and Medicare will be responsible for the majority of her bill. From what I read, the reimbursement rates will not come close to the hospital expenses. And because her initial injury, the broken hip, happened within the hospital one faction of the family is not adverse to the filing of a lawsuit. They have already met with the hospital administrators and are considering "options". (Mrs. Dee's grand daughter told me last week that she has decided not to apply to nursing school after witnessing the verbal abuse and aggression her own family members have displayed. She still wants a health care career, but not one that will put her in the direct firing line of upset, confused family members. )

In the meantime, a 92 year old woman slips slowly, slowly, slowly away and my friend will be left with memories of a long good-bye. How very sad for everyone involved.

P.U.I.

2008-09-04T20:32:00.000-07:00

The town where I live has a river running through it. It's not a mighty river or a fast river, but it is moving water. Actually, I think of it as a bi-polar river: placid and mousy most of the time but after a really heavy Pacific storm it turns into a Girls-Gone-Wild tart - rampaging through downtown, going every place it shouldn't and leaving us all with a "what-the-hell was that?" hangover the next day! It was in the placid stage when I first saw it after having moved from beautiful central Oregon. (Home of the Rogue, Umpqua, Willamette, Deschutes,Williamson, Wood, Illinois, & Iriquois rivers, just to name a few.) My Prince Charming and I drove across a bridge and I asked, "What's that ditch?". He was offended of course. That might have been the first clue that the relationship wasn't really sent from heaven... but I won't go there. Yet.

Anyway, the placid river running through downtown provides a nice venue for outdoor concerts, such as the River Festival we just had on Labor Day weekend. Luckily for me, some friends own kayaks and often invite me along when they decide to launch. That's what happened on Labor Day. We put the kayaks in down river and paddled up to the River Festival concert, to have a picnic and listen to the music.

The hardest part of the afternoon was packing the food and wine into the kayaks. Since there were 6 of us, we brought food for at least 12 plus the beverages. After some consultations and rearranging of packs, soft side coolers, and water proof bags, we managed to wedge everything and everyone in without sinking the boats or leaving stuff behind. My paddling skills were a little rusty on the way up - two near misses with power boats (jerks!), an inability to go in a straight line, and complete inability to stop the freakin' kayak before crashing into my friend. But we all made it to the picnic site and unloaded.

Of course we were famished and parched after the 1.5 mile trip and had all the food containers opened within 15 minutes. Could have done it in 10 but the wine came first, as it always should. It was a potluck picnic and pretty average by wine country standards: Zucchini Fritters with Fresh Tomato Confit, Glazed Chicken Tenders, Herb & Garlic Shrimp Skewers, Bacon,Avocado & Turkey Wraps, Cambazola on Crostini, and Artichoke Heart Parmesan Frittata. You know, just stuff you'd normally take along in a kayak. And the wines were: Roederer Anderson Valley (sparkling), Piper Sonoma (sparkling), Raymond Small Lot Sauvignon Blanc, Andretti Napa Valley Chardonnay, Dancing Bull something or other - and maybe one other but I don't quite remember what.

There was also a container of the most awesome cookies I've had in a long time. Those cookies were more powerful than Palin, more eloquent than Obama, more heroic than McCain, more compelling than Joe Biden. They were the Noblest of Desserts - chocolate-chocolate chip espresso oatmeal drops. I will not even admit how many we ate that night but, trust me, it would not have fallen into the "everything in moderation" category.

Neither did the wine consumption, as you can see from the list above. That's where the P.U.I comes in - Paddling Under the Influence! We had 2 drivers. One drank nothing and one drank very little. That left 4 of us who drank quite a bit over the course of three hours, including me. I was a little unsure about climbing into a kayak in the dark and finding my way back to the launch site. But it was fine. The water was smooth as glass, everyone behaved very safely and it was a really cool experience.

And as long as I agree to keep baking, I just might get invited on the next outing.

Beware of Dog

2008-09-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

A pit bull is still a pit bull - even when wearing lipstick. In the end, you have a very good chance of being bitten.

Ho Ho Horrible!

2008-09-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

Happy Holidays Everyone! The first Christmas catalog arrived in my mailbox today. September 2nd. 24 hours after Labor Day.

The season has begun. OMG, I still have so much to get ready! TTYL, gotta start shopping.....

Half-Baked Alaska

2008-08-30T14:11:00.000-07:00

Facts & Figures:

Population of Alaska: 670,000 (US Census Bureau)
Alaska Racial Diversity: 70% Caucasian, 15% Native Alaskan American, 15% all other races
English Speaking Households: 80%
# of non-agricultural businesses: 62,000
Population of San Francisco Metro Area: 7,200,000
Racial Diversity: Huge. More diversity in one first grade classroom than in all of AK.
English Speaking Households: See item above
# of non-agricultural businesses: I didn't even bother to look it up - more than 62,000
Personal income tax in Alaska - does not exist. Only state in U.S.A without it.
Sales Tax in Alaska - does not exist.
Tax Revenue in Alaska - primary source is petroleum industry. So lucrative, that AK residents actually get tax rebates, rather than paying taxes.

So, we are being asked to elect as Vice President of the United States a new governor of a state which contains less than 1/10th the population of the SF Bay Area, which has little racial diversity, which has no illegal immigration issues, which has a budget surplus based on oil, which is culturally separated from the lower states ... and she was chosen for the simple fact that she is a female.

I'm so incredibly insulted by this action that I just made the first-in-my-life political contribution and I signed up for a Get Out the Vote activity for next Saturday. Trust me, neither of those will be for the McCain/Palin ticket.

Dear John

2008-08-29T20:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Senator McCain, I am not at all sure what your advisors have told you, but do you actually believe that Hillary supporters and women voters will now flock to your side just because you chose a woman as your V.P.? Yes, it is an historic decision for the conservative, traditional G.O.P .... but,

DUDE she is pro-life, pro-NRA, pro-oil, pro-Iraq war, pro-development, pro-capital punishment, pro-fundamentalism..... are you seeing a pattern here? In short, she is everything that Hillary supporters are against, except for the fact that she inhabits a female body.

And, I know you don't want to consider your own mortality but since you're 72 it must occasionally cross your mind. Like maybe late at night or when you're waiting in the MD's office for the results on your latest biopsy? Have you actually considered that you might leave the rest of us in the hands of a 44 year old mother of 5 who has limited national experience and no, nada, zip, zero experience dealing with foreign diplomats or international crises? And please, tell me how a mom with a 6 month old disabled child will have the time & focus to serve as V.P. of the USA. Has it occurred to you, as it has to me, that since she had that child at 43 she could possible get pregnant again - from an observer's standpoint birth control doesn't seem high on her list of personal responsibility.

So, Dear John, tell us What Were You Flapjacking Thinking? But in closing, I'd like to say a very big THANK YOU, since I think you may have given my candidate a much better chance in November. Unless the women of America are as stupid and emotional as you apparently think they are. Sincerely, the spynster

Peach Progress

2008-08-24T17:40:00.000-07:00

Friday: 10 lbs. delivered to lunch room for co-workers.
Saturday: 10 lbs. picked up by friends for cobblers.
Sunday a.m.: 30 lbs. picked, 10 lbs. given to the ants, snails, and birds.
Sunday: 15 lbs. turned into 3 frozen pies and 1 super-size-me crisp for work.
Sunday: 15 lbs. set aside for slicing and freezing.
Sunday Eve: Small corner of crisp eaten warm with light cream. OMG.

OH, FLAPJACK! **

2008-08-23T17:47:00.000-07:00

I am so mad at myself right now, I feel like a flapjacking idiot. Not because I did something stupid, but because I did something nice. Huh, you say?

Yes, I did something nice but I guarantee that it will come back to bite me.

Let's see if I can explain this without revealing too many details. There is someone on our staff whom I consider to be a slightly greener hue than Elphaba. I'll refer to her just as TWW (you can figure it out) and she is my ARCH-ENEMY at work. This week, TWW delegated a task to her assistant. The assistant asked me politely for help, since it requires use of software program which she has never used. Now, it just so happens that I am the self-taught company whiz at this particular program - if I do say so myself. I've been receiving broad hints from TWW for several months about taking on her project and I've always thought, "not in this lifetime, witch!" But I don't harbor such thoughts about the assistant so I agreed to show her the basics of the program.

It was obvious after about 30 minutes, that she wasn't going to pick it up fast enough to meet the deadline. That's when I heard myself say: "OK, if you assemble all the pieces you need for this and put it on the intra-net, I'll do the complete layout for you this time and send it over." OH, FLAPJACK! I have now agreed to do the project for TWW and broken my lifetime vow of never lifting a finger to help her. Too late. The assistant of course is thrilled, but it's only a matter of time before TWW finds a way to twist a knife in my back again. And it's my own stupid, flapjacking fault. To be continued, I'm sure.

**flapjack (flap' jak'): a pseudonym for a four letter word beginning with F. Created by a group of millennials one evening, when using the F word a little too often in the presence of some baby-boomers. The substitution of "flapjack" satisfied both parties and has been used ever since.

Backyard Orgy

2008-08-20T21:14:00.000-07:00

Yeah Baby! I might not be blogging this weekend if the peaches are ready to pick - my fingers will be too sticky from fresh peach juice! I only have one little tree in the backyard but it produces amazing fruit, with absolutely no help from me. Last year I made 1 cobbler, 3 pies, froze 10 quart bags, and canned 16 pints of peach slices in spicy-rum sauce. That was in addition to the bowls I ate with yogurt, cream or ice cream and the bags I gave away to friends. The crop this year isn't quite as large, but there's still enough for a backyard peach orgy. Yum Yum.

The Uh-Oh Squad

2008-08-17T17:11:00.001-07:00

Somewhere in the Bay Area today, there's a woman waking up with serious black & blue marks down her right side. I know this because when I last saw her yesterday she was being strapped to a back board and loaded into an ambulance. Here's the story.

My friends and I went on an urban excursion yesterday to celebrate someone's birthday. We had a great morning meandering thru a botanical garden, having mimosas and proscuitto wrapped shrimp in the park, and enjoying a relaxing lunch sitting high in the Berkeley hills overlooking the bay. The people watching was very good. We spotted a very pregnant bride in clingy white satin with an "outie" belly button (those will some lovely wedding pics), an Asian call girl on an afternoon assignment (dude, I apologize if that was your wife, but who wears a leather bustier, black mini skirt, 5" heels, and a quadruple strand of magnificently huge white pearls at 1:00 in the afternoon?) and Tony Soprano having a lawyer/client consultation in a hallway alcove (good luck with the deposition, T.) We were strolling across the parking lot discussing these sitings when it happened. BAM!

We whipped around, wondering if we were about to become drive-by shooting statistics. I looked to my left and saw a bicycle with a blown front tire. I looked to my right and saw a cyclist rolling on the pavement yelling about her shoulder. I should also mention the bike tire was under the front passenger tire of a large black car. Uh-Oh.

I started walking quickly over to the cyclist, hoping someone else would get there first. Despite my med-blog reading, I don't claim to have much in the way of first aid skills. Since she was yelling at the top of her voice, I assumed CPR wasn't going to be needed. At it turned out, 4 of us arrived at once: the driver of the car, a young couple from across the street and me, followed quickly by my three friends. Multiple cell phones were out but the parking lot attendant had already called 911.

Other than complaints about her shoulder, she didn't seem to be injured. Surprisingly, there was no road rash or bloody scrapes. She was moving both arms and had good control of her hands, while she unzipped her jacket and unclipped the fanny pack belt. The Uh-Oh squad was mostly standing around trying to think of things to do while we waited for emergency response. The driver of the car checked her pulse and quietly mentioned he was a doctor. She briefly opened her eyes to see who said that and then resumed moaning and writhing. Uh-Oh.

As it turned out, the pedestrian couple admitted to being an EMT and a chiropractor. Then a new black Mercedes convertible pulled up and a young man in blue scrubs got out. He was on his way to work at an adjacent hospital. By now, I'm thinking "Holy crap! What a great place to be in accident. She's got 2 MD's, a chiropractor, and an EMT and the ambulance hasn't even shown up yet. All she needs now is the lawyer, and he's right up the hill with Tony!"

I did notice that not one of the observers touched her, other than the quick pulse check. Everyone else was very careful to do visual checks and offer to call her husband or family. None of us gave her our names either - not really out of paranoia, but just caution I guess. When the fire truck and ambulance pulled up, my friends and I made a quiet get away. As we pulled out, she was being strapped to the back board.

Of course we thoroughly hashed over the experience as we drove home, and reached the following conclusions:

She was amazingly fit for a woman of a certain age, and appeared to be an experienced cyclist based on the expensive athletic gear she was wearing.
Her address was very close to the site of the accident so she must have been familiar with the busy intersection and driveway into the resort.
Therefore, the accident was mostly her fault for not using extra caution and ceeding right of way to the auto, even if both bike & auto had the green light.
And that Dr. Driver was most likely phoning his insurance agent and attorney the moment the ambulance drove off.

Uh Oh.

Hello Kitty

2008-08-16T18:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Miss Emms and Maddy-Moo, the time has come for a frank and open discussion about our living arrangements. Although we've been sharing space for 15 years now, there are some things which need improvement and it might help to just bring this stuff out in the open once and for all. You may be surprised, but here goes:

Your skills for purging gigantic hairballs are impressive, but it's rude, crude, and disgusting to do it just as dinner guests are being seated! If the urge absolutely can't be controlled, the least you can do is move to the back bedroom where you'll be out of sight and out of hearing. Purging in the middle of the living room carpet does not work wonders for my social life.

Speaking of social life, you know how we sit at home on weeknights and watch TV? And you know how you perch on my thigh while doing so? Well, it's not necessary to sink your claws into both sides of my knee. Yes, your ancestors slept in trees and it's no doubt an inherited survival response. But you've never been higher than the back of the couch and I've seen you fall off it without being injured! So don't get a grip - keep your claws in your paws and we'll both be a lot happier.

As long as I'm on the topic of injuries, let me also assure you that there has never been a documented case of full grown cat being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner won't hurt you and surely, after 15 years, you might have this figured out. You are much more likely to get hurt by shooting out from under the bed or the couch, scaring the hell out of both of us, and making me drop the wand and power head. Keep this in mind next Saturday a.m.

And you know that creature you discovered on the deck last week, which prompted two huge hissy fits and prolonged snarling? Well, that was a kitten and he looks a lot like you did 14.5 years ago. His name is Boo-Boo and he belongs to the 4 year old girl next door. He is not going to trash your deck chairs or eat your food. It's considered good manners to be pleasant to a neighbor until they do something which really deserves snarling and hissing. Like dealing drugs or neglecting to recycle.

Finally, we need to talk finances. In all the time you've lived here, you haven't contributed a dime to household expenses. I've paid for your food, shelter, health care, entertainment, and personal hygiene supplies and will continue to do so until you, well you know, start using the eternal litter box. Whatever. For the most part, I've been happy to provide but you could show a little gratitude now and then. And no, that does not mean laying on my head in the middle of the night and purring from self-satisfaction. It means providing companionship and some "OMG, that's so cute" kind of moments. You can do it - it just takes a little bit of effort!

OK, whew, I feel so much better now don't you? But girlfriends, remember this: even tho the PC crowd says that you are animal companions, and not pets, in the end I OWN YOU! It's not the other way around. Thanks for the chat.

White Coat Syndrome

2008-08-14T11:53:00.000-07:00

"I was not obliged to be a model. I was not obliged to be a singer. I could have been a doctor." Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, Vanity Fair, September 2008

Oh, the allure of those crisp white coats! Has anyone ever said "I could have been a software engineer, or CPA, or IRS auditor, or Plumbing Contractor?" Nope. It's the romantic, powerful, mysterious, intimidating world of medicine which often ends the "I could have been..." statement. Even by Carla, the newly installed First Lady of France. (La Premiere Damoiselle? Je'ne sais pas! )

Apparently, a white coat is an international symbol for competence, intelligence, and accomplishment. I do understand why. Science, math, half a lifetime spent in school, competition, information retention, man, woman, life, death, infinity ... cue in the music from "Hopkins"ABC's recent series filmed in Baltimore. Which I thought was awesome by the way.

Obviously, I have a med-obession right now as evidenced by the list of "doctor" books I've read over the past year, and the med-blogs I haunt. (look left). And all that reading has confimed something for me. I could NEVER have been a doctor. Never. I don't have the intellectual abilities or the determination or the stamina or the math & science aptitude. Not to mention the bank account needed for mega-years of schooling or the ability to get up close and personal with other peoples bodies. No thanks.

I do believe, however, I could have been an English Professor! I love reading and I love writing. It's painful when my young nephews tell me they hate books, and it's painful to watch the deterioration of spelling, writing, and use of the English language in our current culture. (Look left again, to Pres. Bush. OMG.) I've found myself lately making a mental collection of weird or interesting words like ineffable, perjorative, surreptitious, immutable. I'm not likely to use words like that in conversation anytime soon - I'm not THAT big of an egghead - but they still roll around my Jello brain, waiting to pop out into my blog I guess.

But I'm not an English teacher and Carla Bruni Sarkozy is not a doctor. I have settled for being an ordinary person and she has settled for being the French presidents' wife. C'est la vie!

Gym Shorts

2008-08-09T13:45:00.000-07:00

While doing my version of Olympic treadmill walking last night, I started reminiscing about the exercise phases I've gone through . For someone who routinely says "I hate exercising", it's a bit surprising to realize that I've done so much of it in the past 30 years.

During the 1980's, it was mostly group aerobics: Dancergetics, Jazzercise, and classes at the local "singles" gym. Thank God there are no existing photos of that Jane Fonda wanna-be period. Even tho I was young and slender then, I don't want to see proof that I actually wore color coordinated leotards & tights, wrist bands, headbands, leg warmers, and other action accessories. We thought we looked good - at the time! My role model was a friend's new girlfriend. She was awesome - a blonde, thin, fit aerobics teacher with endless energy and a perfect body. It was only after they broke up that I found out she stayed that way by purging after meals, going on liquid only fasts, and using amphetamines or cocaine prior to starting the workouts. I lost some of my admiration for physical perfection after that little bit of news.

Exercise in the next decade consisted of self-directed activities: walking and using an assortment of home exercise videos and machines. Or to be more truthful, pretending to use an assortment of videos and machines. There was a rower, a stationary bike, and weird little hybrid that was a mix between a rower and bike. All of those were eventually traded away or donated to a local charity. By then I had become a condo owner on a single woman's wages, so health club memberships were not in the budget. I ate more, moved less, and slowly but surely acquired the silhouette of a middle-aged woman. I caught sight of my grandmother in store window reflections more than once which was startling! Those sitings usually resulted in short-lived exercise spikes of long walks and bicycle jaunts but the spikes never lasted. Alas, I became an apple, not a pear. Not a tapered Red Delicious apple either - more like a global, rounded, ripe little Fuji, the kind which rolls across the produce aisle when dropped.

OK, I might be exaggerating a little bit for the sake of a good story. But I moved into the overweight category on the BMI chart and went to double digit clothing sizes. Ironically, I wore exercise sweat pants a lot, even tho I was definitely not exercising!

Then, the little apple started to develop minor health issues mostly related to being too far to the right on the BMI chart. My doctors suggested a regular exercise program might be helpful. And at the same time, our local hospital opened a multi-million dollar Wellness Center which includes a beautiful fitness club and health education activities. (Very savvy planning, geared to aging baby boomers.) I took the orientation tour and signed up on the spot. The facility is wonderful - full of natural light from 20' windows and spotlessly clean, unlike some previous clubs I joined. I love going there and as a result have started to like (not love) my exercise routine. Hence, the Olympic treadmill walking.

And one of the best parts? Every cardio machine has it's own TV! Now I'm improving muscle fitness while decreasing brain fitness. I'm on a first name basis with Stacy & Clinton (don't try to pretend you don't know them!), Larry King, Judge Judy, and the bridal consultants on Say Yes to the Dress. I confess to staying on the elliptical an extra 5 minutes just to see if the bride picked dress #3, even tho Mom wanted dress #1. My quads, hamstrings, and gluts are toning up while my cerebral mass is turning to Jello. But I look better, feel better, and can contribute more to the lunchroom pop gossip. Maybe I DO like exercise!

Hand Me Down, Please.

2008-08-06T19:51:00.001-07:00

Since I'm on the subject of hands and handiwork, here are a few photos of my latest project. Technically, it is a pieced coverlet, not a quilt, because it is tied instead of quilted. I much prefer quilting but I don't know how to machine quilt and hand quilting this piece was not practical. It's a baby "quilt" and needs to be sturdy and machine washable. Plus, the baby would have been entering first grade by the time I got it finished. So, it is tied....the baby doesn't seem to mind.

Hand Me That Tool!

2008-08-02T22:17:00.000-07:00

I've always enjoyed working with my hands but I have an enhanced appreciation for them after reading "In Our Hands" by Arnold Arem, M.D. A hand surgeon for over 20 years, Dr. Arem says "that hands are...the Rosetta stone of the soul" and he calls them "the body's most exquisite instrument." As I was turning the pages of his book I started becoming more and more aware of how much I use these instruments every day - cooking, baking, gardening, quilting, reading, typing of course, scratching my cats' ears, dialing phones, changing channels on the remote, and numerous other mundane activities that I simply take for granted.

I've spent 3 days now watching my hands and taking inventory on how they function. I know, some of you will say "Get a Life!", but it's been fascinating really. Start taking stock of your own activities, I think you'll be amazed. Anyway, here's a breakdown of my morning routine - I'm skipping the shower and toilet since some activities are best done on automatic pilot. You can keep your own notes on those!

Task: Inserting contact lenses. Process: Use thumb and index finger to open lens case. Snag contact with tip of little finger and place lens in palm of left hand. Pop saline solution cap with thumb and saturate lens. Balance lens on tip of index finger. Pull lower eyelid down slightly with tip of middle finger and insert lens. Repeat on opposite side. Instruments: 1 Thumb, 2 Index fingers, 2 Middle fingers, and 1 Pinky.

Task: Apply facial moisturizer and foundation. Process: Squeeze appropriate amount of goo into palm of left hand using thumb and index finger. Apply evenly to face with tips of middle and ring fingers. Index and little finger are held gracefully out to side. Instruments: 1 Thumb, 1 Index, 1 Middle, and 1 Ring finger.

Task: Apply cool Raisin Quartz eyeliner on top eyelid. Process: Grasp eye pencil between thumb and index finger, resting it on the middle finger for stability. Using tip of little finger, tighten eyelid and apply Raisin Quartz along lash line. Smudge with little finger if desired. Repeat on other eye. Instruments: 1 Thumb, 1 Index, 1 Middle, and 1 Pinky.

Task: Apply Voluminous Brown-Black mascara. Process: Hold wand between thumb, index, and middle finger. Carefully roll from base of lashes to outer tips. Turn wand on end and brush lightly along lower lashes, keeping control at all times to prevent eye injuries. Instruments: 1Thumb, 1 Index, 1 Middle.

Task: Brush and Floss Teeth. Process: Squeeze on toothpaste using thumb and index finger. Stabilize toothbrush between thumb and extended index finger. Wrap remaining three fingers around base and start scrubbing. When rinsed, wrap dental floss around both index fingers and think of how pleased the hygienist will be at your next appmt. Use thumb and index finger to massage circulation back into both fingertips when finished. Instruments: 1 Thumb, 2 Index, 1 Middle, 1 Ring, 1 Pinky.

Task: Insert earrings into pierced ears. Process: Sort through jumbled jewelry box to find 2 matching earrings. Pull ear lobe with thumb and index finger, while holding earring post with opposite thumb and index finger. Insert post and use thumb and index finger to attach backing. Repeat. Equipment: 2 Thumbs, 2 Index.

Task: Clothing. Process: Uses both gross and fine motor skills to pull items off hangers, onto legs and arms, fastening buttons or hooks, pulling zippers, snapping snaps. Instruments: All available digits.

Task: Shoes. Process: Brace self against closet door with one hand while pulling on individual shoes. Instruments: One full hand - palm and fingers, unless shoes have laces and/or straps. Then fine motor skills are needed.

There - see what I mean? I'm only 40 minutes into my morning and have performed multiple, complicated maneuvers with these exquisite instruments. I still have to get breakfast, drive 20 miles, make a cell phone call, and adjust the car radio a bunch of times before I even get to the office. Now when I say it's a miracle that I get to work on time, I really really mean it! I love what my hands can do - I love my hands period.

PS: OMG, I can't believe I forgot to include THE HAIR, the most complicated process of all! Requiring use of both hands, this procedure involves raking, pulling, scrunching, bending, twisting, rolling, smoothing, and spraying - all to achieve a looks which says "quick and easy". Instruments: 2 Palms, 2 Thumbs, 8 Fingers and 1 Blow Dryer. Even better if instruments belong to a trained professional.

Sticks and Stones

2008-08-02T08:10:00.000-07:00

I suspect the title of my blog doesn't make sense to anyone but me. I started posting in April when I became addicted to med-blogs, after listening to an NPR program. In the beginning, I was planning to post about health care issues from a "health care consumer" standpoint and thought the title was quite clever and witty. Now, 4 months and 4 readers later, I find that I'm writing about everything else but health care issues! It's The Dinosaur's fault. His blog advice is: Write Well, Say Something, and Mix It Up. I seem to be Mixing It Up but that means the blog is unfocused and title doesn't apply to anything. Oh well.

This IS the internet. I suppose I could pretend to have a chronic illness and that would give my title credibility. That seems a bit pathetic. And also really bad karma. I'd have to pick a condition which didn't require much research or painful treatments, just in case karma kicked in and actually gave me the disease. Better to not go there. Or, I could stick to writing about health care from an employers'/Human Resource perspective but that sorta puts people to sleep - as I've experienced in communications with my co-workers.

No, better to just Mix It Up and keep the title as is. In a literary way, it might still be pertinent. After all, I am exposing private areas to complete strangers which is what happens when wearing a gown-open-2-the-back. I'm keeping it. Does that make sense?

What'cha gonna do.....

2008-07-30T09:33:00.000-07:00

Overhead at Walmart in south-east Oregon:

Parent figure to young child, "OK, I'm tellin' ya one more time - cut it out right now or you're goin' into lockdown when we get home!"

Umm, yeah - being grounded or getting a time-out is a little bit like jail, I guess.

Order Up!

2008-07-27T17:48:00.000-07:00

I suppose not too many people think cooking for 100 guests would be considered a vacation activity. But I had the opportunity to do that on my recent trip and I loved it! Wait, I should clarify something - I was a volunteer prep person in the kitchen, I wasn't cooking for 100 by myself!

By accident, my vacation coincided with a wine & food conference at my friend's Northwest Country Inn. Approximately 100 registrants were expected and they, in turn, were expecting to be fed breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the space of 3 days. I knew I wouldn't be seeing much of my friend unless I joined her in the kitchen, so off we went. (Because of the remote location of the inn, her labor pool is not huge. Even my rusty kitchen skills were accepted, with the promise that I would cut vegetables and not body parts. Promise kept!)

The inn has a dual personality. Daytime fare consists of burgers & beer while the nightime fare is fine dining and wine. The two personalities often overlap in the kitchen, when the nightime crew needs to start prepping but the daytime grill is still sizzling. That was the case on the Sunday when I tied on an apron. Tables were full of guests eating late weekend breakfast, chomping on hot burgers, and ordering Sunday afternoon pie and coffee. The two kitchen crews divide up the space, manuevering around each other, and produce amazing amounts of work in a short period of time.

I was put to work cleaning, slicing, and sauteeing 10 lbs of mushrooms. While I did that, everyone else completed 2 or 3 projects, but I was making sure there would be no Wendy's-fingertip-in-the-chili style lawsuits to be filed. After successfully mastering mushrooms, I was handed a whisk and asked to tenderly care for the gallon of bechamel sauce. It needed to be thick, creamy, and pure white without lumps or scorched flecks. My forehead broke into a light sweat and not just because I was standing over a commercial range. Bechamel is just a French name for very simple white sauce - any cook with a saucepan and spoon can make it, but it can go wrong in a hurry. Too thick, too thin, too floury, too salty, too burnt, too lumpy - but this batch turned out fine and made a beautiful finish to the fresh vegetable pastas.

While I was gently tending the bechamel, standing to one side of the range, I had a great view of the two grill cooks. They were a study in opposites. Cook A: Short, rotund, plain faced, middle aged female plodding slowly and methodically thru the line up; Cook B: Tall, thin, pierced and tattooed, hyperactive young male working in a blur of activity with exasperated outbursts and dramatic spatula flourishing. They seemed to have informally divided up the tasks and each monitored a separate section of the grill. At one time I counted 6 pancakes, 2 cheeseburgers, 4 plain burgers, 6 buns (top & bottom), 6 bacon slices, 2 mounds of ham, 1 mound of grilled omelette vegies, and 1 large mound of country hash browns on the grill. Two of the range burners held a soup order and some over-easy eggs. All the orders made it to the proper plate at the proper time! (Although I did surreptiously adjust the flame under the soup order when it was in danger of becoming stew as the stock boiled away.) It was like watching choreography, only with the smell of bacon and snap of grill grease. My task was to simply stay out of the way and keep the bechamel from burning.

At the end of the night, all was well. Cook A & B shut down the grill, cleaned off the grease, and headed home to cold beers or other organic relaxation products. The night crew finished off dinner and 100 wine loving locusts descended to devour every crumb and then some. We turned off the kitchen lights and headed down river, while discussing the menu plans for the next night. As a post note: I apologize profusely to the teen age dishwasher who is still probably trying to scrape burnt blackberry sugar syrup off the stock pot bottom. It wasn't my fault - it's not easy to stir the bottom of 48 cups of berries!

Vacation Farewell

2008-07-23T15:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was driving on Scenic Route Hwy 230 through central Oregon alongside the Rogue river. It's a beautiful route lined with Douglas Fir, Ponderosa Pines, and small state parks and campgrounds. As I passed through Farewell Bend, one of those parks, I glanced at the parking lot. There, parked parallel to the road, in between 2 large R.V.'s was a Batesville casket delivery truck. I'm not making this up. There was an actual casket truck parked in the Farewell Bend campground! WTH?? It's not like there are any funeral homes nearby - in fact, it would take about 2 hours of driving from that spot to reach one. Perhaps the drivers' GPS system failed and he felt Farewell Bend was an appropriate place to stop and get directions. Whatever. I didn't want to turn around to get a picture, but how weird is that? Another great vacation memory!

Gone Fishing

2008-07-17T09:49:00.000-07:00

On vacation until July 22nd! I'm not really fishing, just relaxing in a world class fly-fishing region of central Oregon. I'm in my favorite place of the world with my favorite people, which makes a perfect vacation. But I'm also compiling a mental list of potential posts... which won't happen until after the 22nd. Gotta go, the creek and my paperback book are calling.

2008-07-06T19:14:00.000-07:00

Don't Touch That!

2008-07-06T18:53:00.000-07:00

I was standing in line at one of our busier drug stores a few days ago, waiting for a (completely unnecessary but required) consult with the pharmacist. Lines at the pharmacy counter are 24/7, so some enterprising drug companies have installed a couple of touch screen displays to keep everyone occupied and informed while they wait. I was closest to the Wellness Topics. And, because of the angle, I could also see the grubby, sticky, smeared residue left from the fingertips of my fellow curious customers. Now, we're all there waiting for drugs - which I assume means some of us are sick, maybe with communicable diseases. Or maybe with just some generally icky condition. Regardless, this doesn't seem like the best place to install a screen which then NEVER GETS CLEANED! It might be a good strategy for repeat business tho. I skipped the Wellness Topics in an effort to stay well.

Driving Me Crazy

2008-07-05T14:57:00.000-07:00

Like many people who live in CA, I spend a great deal of time in my car. (Sorry, I still can't refer to myself as a Californian even after living here 28 years. I am an Oregon girl living temporarily in the south. Just to clarify that....) Like I was saying, I drive 20 miles to my job each day which by Bay Area standards is a very short commute. 10 years ago the drive took about 22 minutes door to door. Now, because of increased population, more stoplights, general congestion, and irritated traffic gods it takes 35 to 40 minutes. On a really, really bad day when there's been a fatal accident or road closure, it can take well over 2 hours. So I have plenty of time to observe other drivers and develop defensive driving strategies. I'm pleased to present my summary here - however, I should warn readers: The following post will contain age, gender, and racial profiling. It's probably not politically correct, but it's definitely true!

Vehicle: Dodge Ram Diesel Pickup. Occupant: 40-50 year old male general contractor on his way to the latest mega-mansion project balanced on a hilltop. Driving strategy: Move to the right hand lane immediately and stay there until this rampaging bull of a vehicle has passed. The driver is quite probably late to a breakfast meeting with his bazillionaire client and is gearing up for a show down with the fancy pants architect who's coming up from San Franisco. Let 'im by.

Vehicle: 1990's American-Made Sedan, with a "Bush/Cheney" or "Support Our Troops" bumpersticker. Occupants: 80 year old couple from one of the gated retirement communities, driving to the bank or a doctor's appointment. Driving strategy: Move to the left hand lane ASAP, using your turn signal so as not to startle the driver. Make every attempt not to get stuck behind this car, because the occupants have all day to complete their errands and are in absolutely no hurry to get anywhere.

Vehicle: Newer Jetta, Matrix, Acura, Cabriolet or Similiar Sporty Model. Occupant: Young, adult white male - Millennial or Gen X'er. Driving strategy: Stay right where you are and do not adjust speed. Never try to change lanes because there won't be time. These drivers are multi-tasking: texting, e-mailing, blue-toothing, DVD watching and God knows what else. They are unrepentant lane changers who enjoy squeezing by other cars with only inches to spare. They earn some kind of game points for arriving at red lights 2-3 seconds before other drivers. They are sometimes, but not often enough, seen in conversations with CA Highway Patrol.

Vehicle: Previously-Owned 1980's Auto - often missing hubcabs, with under inflated tires, and broken brake light covers. Occupants: 4 -6 Hispanic Males of a various ages, often related to one another. Driving strategy: Approach with caution because the vehicles are often not well maintained and have frequent blow-outs or breakdowns. Move past the vehicle carefully. While these workers are to be commended for car-pooling, unlike their fellow CA drivers, there is no guarantee that they possess a valid drivers license, have car insurance, understand the rules of the road in the USA, or have ever had any formalized drivers training. In the event of an accident, all occupants will disappear across the fields and you'll be left with 2 damaged cars.

Vehicle: Chrysler Seibring, generally Convertible: Occupants: Heterosexual couple, possibly married but not necessarily to each other. Driving strategy: Use extreme caution. These are erratic, dangerous tourist drivers who have been seen backing up on a state highway, making U-turns across all lanes of traffic, driving southbound in a northbound lane, using a center turn lane as a private drive-thru, running red lights and stop signs, and engaging in unsafe sexual practices while operating a motor vehicle. They brake often for winery driveways and may have consumed a week's worth of alcohol by 3 p.m. Keep a safe distance and be prepared for the unexpected!

Vehicle: Toyota Prius or Honda Hybrid. Occupant: Baby Boomer of either gender, listening to NPR and sipping a soy milk latte while carefully nibbling a whole-grain, low fat muffin. Driving strategy: None really. The driver might be a bit spacey, but he/she will be driving the speed limit in order to conserve fuel and reduce carbon footprints and is unlikely to break any traffic laws. Generally safe, cordial and well mannered unless you go out of your way to antagonize him/her by flashing a "f**k Tibet" sign or something.

There are a few more: SUV Mom's (dangerous during school drop-offs/pick-ups), Low riding Ghetto Gangbangers (always dangerous but not usually out during daytime hours), Weekend Warriors with bike/kayak racks, etc. but this post is long enough already.

What's my ride? I'm not saying, but my strategies have kept it dent-free for 5 years.

2008-06-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

Car Whash

2008-06-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

While stopped at a red light this afternoon, I noticed a dusty van in the next lane over with a message written on the back window: Whash Me. The license plate frame was extolling the greatness of Jesus, and that's exactly what I thought..... Whash Me - "Jesus! Are our schools really that bad? OMG, the kids can't even spell wash?!" Or maybe this is an example of home schooling? Well, not only was the van not whashed but the parents apparently didn't notice the spelling of the message either. Or maybe it was just an honest mistake by a really young child. That's probably whishful thinking on my part though.

Good Vibes

2008-06-22T18:18:00.001-07:00

According to my latest DEXA bone density scan, I'm in danger of becoming a spineless wimp. It seems my osteoclasts are more active than my osteoblasts, or the demolition crew is more efficient than the construction crew. Something like that. The result is that I now get to sit and stand on a vibration massage pad for 15-20 minutes per day, much to my amusement. It's perfect for blogggggiiiinnnnnggggg! And I've been entertaining my women friends with the statement that, "My doctor told me to go buy a vibrator." That's been good for about 3 days of laughing.

I believe someone famous said that it takes courage to grow old. I would add courage and a sense of humor. In the end of course, I will lose the battle anyway but if I keep on with the good vibrations, at least I'll go down with strong bones.

Walking to Remember

2008-06-21T19:56:00.000-07:00

For My Mom

2008-06-18T21:31:00.001-07:00

I was 28 and my mother was 57 when she was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer. That was 29 years ago and I am now 57. It's odd to try and visualize the two of us in 1979. I can easily picture myself - young, slender, long hair, not too many years away from my hippie days and still trying to figure out what I wanted to actually do with my life. It's more difficult to picture her - not because my memory has faded but because she seems ageless, like most moms do to most kids. And it's very strange to think that if I live to 60, which I fully intend to do, I will be older than my mother. Her life stopped at 59 - much too young, much too early.

Because of her, I am very conscientious about my annual check ups. I also have access to screening tools and tests which were not available to her. If cancer ever does develop in my body, my doctors and I will know about it in time to start early treatment. By the time hers was discovered, "treatment" was just a way to slow down the relentless death march of her own cells. The surgery and agonizing chemo gave her two extra years but, of course, that wasn't long enough for her or her family. I'm still surprised when I talk with some of my nieces and nephews and realize that they were born after her death. It's wrong that she didn't get to meet all her grandchildren.

I don't dwell on the bad memories from that period of time, but I do still harbor many questions: why didn't her GYN detect a major problem when she went to him complaining of weight loss, fatigue and a general feeling that something wasn't right? Was she treated as just another menopausal woman with vague complaints? How did he feel when she ended up in the ER 6 weeks later with cancer cells crowding the bladder and stopping urine flow? Why did the surgeons/doctors meet with us in the hallway to give news that would change our family forever? Weren't there any private waiting areas in the hospital? Would she have had better medical care or optimal treatment if she had lived in an urban area, rather than our small, isolated home town? Would her death have been easier and more peaceful if hospice had been available? Why wasn't I a better daughter, more present, more supportive, more caring, more aware?

I don't have answers to any of those questions and I can't go back and change anything now. But I can do things in her memory and so I will be walking in a 24 hour Relay for Life on July 26th, for the American Cancer Society. It seems like the perfect thing to do for the woman who taught me how to walk and who bought me my first shoes. Maybe the funds I raise will make a difference in someone elses' life, maybe not. But if you are reading this and want to make a pledge towards my goal, click here! It's not for me, it's for my mom.

2008-06-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

On a Roll

Ma'am, Step Away From the Unagi.

2008-06-14T11:10:00.000-07:00

Japan Wants People to Slim Down: "Under a national law that came into effect two months ago, companies and local governments must measure the waistlines of Japanese people between the ages of 40 and 74 as part of their annual checkups. .... To reach its goals of shrinking the overweight population by 10 percent over the next four years...the government will impose financial penalties on companies and local governments that fail to meet specific targets." San Francisco Chronicle, 6/13/2008

So to be overweight in Japan is not only unhealthy, it's illegal.

The CA company I work for has been owned by a large Japanese corporation for almost 20 years. During that time, we've had several sets of "interns" sent from Toyko. They each stay for about 4 years, improving their English and gradually absorbing some American culture. They arrive in suits and ties, drop down to Dockers and button down shirts, and carry slang dictionaries so they can understand their goof-ball American co-workers. None of them are overweight. If they stick with a traditional Japanese diet, they go home looking just like they did the day they arrived. If they adopt an American diet, they go home 10-20 lbs. heavier. According to this article, that could spell trouble.

I'm trying to image a law like this being passed in the USA. First of all, it's age and gender discriminatory. (Men must conform to a stricter waistline than women.) Second, it requires companies to be involved in personal health care. Try writing that into an employee handbook! Then, would we need an additional court system? Traffic fines, building code violations, and waistline non-conformance. "What do you do for a living? Oh, I'm in Waist Management." If you take an on-line nutrition course, can you have the violation taken off your record? If you are a repeat offender, are you sent to minimum security diet facility and kept until your waistline shrinks?

Of course, Americans would take to streets in protest - well, probably drive-by protesting or sit-ins, because we wouldn't want to walk all day carrying heavy protest signs. But a sit-in would be OK. "Keep Government Out of My Closet!" "American 4 Choice - Cheeseburgers are My Right!" "Watch Your Own Waistline, Not Mine!" "Overeating Is Not a Crime" ....

The article does mention some protest in Japan, but only because "there's no need at all" for the population to lose weight. Unlike here. Oh well, gotta go meet some friends for lunch. A California Roll or Tempura sounds good!

That Feels About Right!

2008-06-10T21:31:00.000-07:00

I'm HOT - and that is so not good.

2008-06-10T21:05:00.000-07:00

Global warming is a reality in my house. The south facing windows which are so attractive in the winter, flooding the house with light and warmth, are not so attractive during a CA summer. My 1950's house turns into a convection oven and nothing except the return of blessed, cooling nighttime fog reduces the heat inside. Unfortunately, that cooling nightime fog has not been making a regular appearance this year - climate change I guess.

Today I stayed home from work to get estimates for installing central heat and A/C. I don't care anymore about energy conservation or being environmentally correct! I want to turn a thermostat to 68 and blast cold air through the house! Experiencing hot flashes in the middle of the night in a 95 degree bedroom is primitive and it sucks!

So, I got the first estimate from Andrew, a "Heating and Cooling Specialist". The second one came from Bradley, a "Comfort Advisor". Yes, I need a comfort advisor - don't talk to me about btu's or SEER ratings or ducting, condensors, coils, or drain pans. I only want COMFORT!

Unfortunately, Bradley's estimate wasn't very comforting. I might have to stick with the heating and cooling specialist after all.

2008-06-05T20:18:00.001-07:00

The Ballot Box

2008-06-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

I'm voting for a woman in November, even if it is considered an irrational, emotional, "female" decision. I'm a caucasian, middle class, college educated Baby Boomer and I've never been given this chance before and might never have the chance again. So, I'm taking it while I can. I know she's ruffled a few feathers here and there but I think she's articulate, educated, hard working and professional, and a master at prioritizing work & family. So what if her husband has had a more visible career so far? She's certainly very accomplished in her own arena and capable of achieving much, much more if given a chance. If she does end up in the White House, we'll be in for an interesting four years. I'm quite sure of that.

And yes, I know her name won't be on the ballot but I'm checking the Democratic box anyway. I want my vote to count. In January, I want to see Michelle Obama standing with her two young daughters on the inauguration podium - proud, beautiful, smart, and black. Theirs will be the faces of hope and change that America presents to the world. I'm voting female.

The Terminator

2008-06-03T20:03:00.000-07:00

A co-worker called me this morning with a basic question about our health care insurance. My stomach instantly pulled tighter than a surgeons knot. Not because I couldn't provide the answer which was very easy, but because I know this person will be terminated from his job tomorrow. In fact, I was working on the termination papers at the time he called. It wouldn't matter if I gave out incorrect information because he won't have health insurance in 26 days. Yes, he will be offered COBRA but at $925.00 per month to cover his family there is zero-zero-zero chance that he will enroll. At the end of June, there will be 40 million and 4 uninsured Americans.

This isn't the first time I've been in this position but it doesn't get any easier over the years. Sometimes I know several weeks ahead of time that terminations are coming but can't acknowledge that in any way to other employees. Because of the threat of lawsuits, even (or especially) with blatantly poor performers, the employer must make certain that all protection is in place before the news is handed out. That's my job - to prepare the documentation, to consult with the labor attorney, and to present a business-as-usual face to those on the short list, up until the time that the conference room door closes. And sometimes I feel really awful about the fact that I'm good at doing this. Tonight this particular employee feels that I helped him out today. Tomorrow he'll know it was false help as I ask him to sign the severance papers. And that's what it's like working in human resources.

2008-06-01T09:11:00.000-07:00

Swimming with a dog? Personally I think that's just asking for trouble.....

Book 'em Danno!

2008-05-31T20:10:00.000-07:00

I love to read. Surgeons love to cut. Sometimes a surgeon loves to cut and also loves to write, which creates the perfect scenario for a med-surg-groupie-bookworm like me! In fact, I've read more than a few medical memoirs/narratives over the past few months, systematically depleting the inventory available from our tri-county library system - and even purchasing a few which weren't available at the library. (See list on the left!)

All of these books were enjoyable, but 3 are tied for my first place: "Bright Lights, Cold Steel", Dr. Michael Collins, "When the Air Hits Your Brain", Dr. Frank Vertosick, and "Cutting Remarks" Dr. Sidney Schwab. Fortunately this isn't American Idol, so I don't have to vote off two in order to write about one. I like each one for different reasons, but notice that each author is a surgeon - orthopedic surgeon, neuro surgeon, and general surgeon. 3 for 3 - that must mean surgeons are the best writers, which is probably what they think too! Just kidding...or not.

However, it's the general surgeon's book, "Cutting Remarks" which has prompted this post, for several reasons. First of all, Dr. Schwab is also a masterblogger and I visit his site more often than I'd like to admit. (But if my employer ever does a desk-by-desk computer investigation, I'm going to have a lot of 'splaining to do! Even tho HR work can be a pain in the butt, it doesn't really require knowing anything about colon resectioning. But that's not what I'm trying to write about!)

Secondly, the geography in this book is familiar. The other two books are based in Cleveland (or was it Cincinnati?) and the Mayo clinic, but I've never been to either place. Dr. Schwab writes about his time in San Francisco, at UCSF and SF General Hospital. I've driven by both of those many, many times and can picture both the white, shining complex on the hill and the imposing, solid compound on the flats. Although the buildings and the medical procedures have changed, the overall setting is the same and it was intriguing to read of places which I recognize.

Reasons three, four, five, and six will be lumped together in this paragraph. Otherwise,this post may end up longer than the actual book. Three: it's funny in unexpected places. Dr. Schwab's wit is as sharp as his scalpel and seems to be used just about as frequently. Four: it's educational. I now feel so proud of having a beautiful, robins-egg blue gallbladder that I need to take back rude comments I made about that organ in a previous post. Five: it's informative. For instance, my mental pronunciation of mediastinum was all wrong. It's not me-dee-ASS-tin-um as I thought, but me-dia-STY-num. Fortunately, the word hasn't come up yet in conversation so I haven't em-bear-ASS-ed myself. :-) Six: it's honest. While most of the books mention cadaver labs as part of medical training, "Cutting Remarks" is the only one I've read so far that acknowledges animal labs. It may be politically incorrect, but Dr. Schwab provides a realistic view of exactly how surgeons gain the skills they need before approaching a sick or injuried human. Don't be scared off - there are only 2 short mentions, but it was enough to make me aware that none of the other authors were brave enough to include it. Or, maybe it was insignificant to the others.

That leads me, finally, to seven. After I turned the last page I went out to garden, mulling over this piece of writing. My conclusion is that I now have a very good understanding of the difference between an occupation and a profession. And of the difference between someone who practices a profession and someone who IS that profession - Dr. Schwab removes his surgical mask and allows his readers into the inner core of a surgeon. He has the soul of a surgeon, not just head, hands, and heart. The nuns who taught me early in life would call it a vocation. Others might call it centered. I call it very fortunate for those who were his patients over the years.

Conclusion: Book highly recommended. Not to read it might be called a crime.

San Francisco has changed in many ways though, since the 1970's when Dr. Schwab trained there. A surgeon who cuts his finger to the bone while in a patients' abdomen today will be worried about much more than losing the case to another surgeon. It was strange to read this story, and realize that HIV/AIDS had not yet started its scorched earth run through the Bay Area. It was also a time before then Governor Ronald Reagan closed down the state mental hospitals, in a brilliant budget manuever - thereby releasing thousands of mentally ill to counties and cities ill equipped to treat them. The street corners of SF and the ER at SF General reflect the long-term repercussions of that decision, with a large population of homeless, substance abusing mentally ill and inadequate resources for treatment and/or housing. On the other hand, some things haven't changed in SF, as MUNI vs Pedestrian continues on a weekly basis!