Sticking to the Point

It's Friday Love #76

 
 
photobooth friday. Me and my sis. Santa Monica pier, 08.07

The big stuff first.

My CT scan is clear. Lungs and lymph are healthy, the soft tissue is nothing but my innards. I can't even begin to express my relief.

The little stuff.

• I'm flying to Madison WI to visit Neen, (aka QT), my birthday present from M. QT and her man reside in paradise and I'm thrilled to invite myself be invited into their home.  The flight is direct, one of those 2 rowed jets that I sorta can't believe I'm getting on.
• Spending the day at the beach with a beautiful friend for lunch, a walk on the sand and some photobooth love.
• My amazingly talented friend Jen, sent me the best birthday present that arrived Tuesday afternoon.

I fell in love with this necklace when I saw it on Flickr and squealed with glee, when I opened the box and saw the necklace was for me. The main stone is for balance, something I need in my life right now. Jen quietly opened her etsy store this week and it's a definite must see. Be forewarned that you might not want to leave empty-handed.

Sciatic-ass

Luzie knows about my problem. Every single day of her visit, I complained about it. And Luzie hasn't been in the tri-state area for 3 weeks. I have a sports-related injury. I have sciatica.

Sometime mid-July, after reading one of the many fashion/lifestyle magazines that I subscribe to collect, I decided that my 40-something self needed to ramp up my exercise. I'd been skating twice a week but it wasn't enough. I wanted firm. I wanted definition. I wanted to see results. And everything I read said that a woman of my age needs exercise five times a week. (We're going to pretend there isn't the added equation of food and portion control, ahem.) I went to the gym. I did cardio and weights. I stretched and I started to see results.

Number 79 on my list of 101 was to begin a yoga practice. Having had good results with the stretching aspects of yoga for chronic sports-related ailments, I decided to go back to a vinyasa class at work that I love. Not exactly therapeutic poses in vinyasa. And being the competitive beast that I am, (even if it's just me and my mat), I pushed myself deeper into poses, locking fingers on a few twists just because I could. One of those chronic, sports-related ailments was sciatic pain in my hamstrings and hips. I'd stretch through it, maybe apply heat, it was all good. Not wanting to miss derby practice the next night, I went without giving my body a break in between yoga and skating. Less than 24 hours later, I trained my lower body again and so began the achy dance of pain radiating from booty to knee and back again. A nagging ache that sits like a rock against your bum so you never feel comfortable, especially seated.

It always passes this nagging pain, so I took a break from skating and I stretched. I stuck myself (a sight for sore eyes to be certain), and I got a massage. I saw my MD/DO. And I still have sciatic-ass all the live-long day. I've had slight relief but never for long. Finally, I went for acupuncture. I know. I KNOW. It's not that I don't believe it will work, quite the contrary. But I have this thing. I don't like to pay for acupuncture. Why I think it should be free to me is ridiculous. Enough was enough and I scheduled an appointment with my friend and mentor.

Arriving for your first visit of acupuncture, you fill out endless paperwork and then you have a sit-down. You talk about your body from head to toe, in a manner unfamiliar in the allopathic world. We covered my chief complaint and we talked about other issues, namely my raging PMS and wacked-out hormones. I blame perimenopause, my acupuncturist blames sugar. Sugar? Yes, sugar.

Unbeknownst to all of you, I'm a rabid sugar fiend. Remember Pecker and the sister, Little Chrissy, who sits on the counter scooping white sugar into her mouth? Perhaps not that extreme, but over a given day, the quantity is comparable. The plummeting energy levels, the extreme exhaustion at the end of the day, the cravings for refined carbohydrates...it all relates back to the glycemic index and how I'm abusing it. Continuing down this sticky path, I'm leading the way towards insulin resistance and a fat gut. Dude, I know all this. But it's an addiction. I placate myself with sugar and the more I eat, the more I want. A viscious cycle.

Shockingly, my acupuncturist recommended the South Beach Diet. Not for weight loss but to kill my sugar cravings once and for all. And it's taking me a good long while to get my head around that concept. Because I've read about the diet and I'm so not the diet following type. In fact, I usually go to the extreme opposite when I've tried formal diets in the past. The restrictions get to me and I binge. This time might be different. I'm not trying to lose weight, I'm trying to help myself and it feels different. I haven't started the diet yet. I'm not even sure I'm going to, the jury is still out. But I'm thinking about it and researching the facts and I'm actually surprised that I think it just might make sense for me. Stay tuned.

And the sciatic-ass? The jury is still out there too. I've had two treatments where I was stuck from hip to ankle with fine needles in my backside. I've been hooked up to the e-stim machine*. And I still have pain. I also have faith in my medicine and even if the sciatica doesn't dissipate (please don't let that be the case), I can thank my guru for the nasty bag of herbs that I take twice daily.

The rank-tasting, brownish muck will wipe out my PMS and while I might still be a gimp, I certainly won't be cranky.

*electro-current that conducts through the needles, similar to the electro pads at the physical therapist.

Fall over

First LeS posted hers, then Andrea played along. As a lover of lists, treasure hunts and Fall, I decided to play along.

This show will be a perfect introduction to a world I miss visiting.

A class here.

I'd love this. And I have loved this for a long time.

These would be a nice addition to my mostly brown and black collection.

I'd love to see these guys. These guys would be fun too. I'd like to listen to her read again.

I'm excited about this and also this. This might be fun (he's my boyfriend just so you know), and definitely this.

I'd love to learn to make this. Also this.

So much to do this Fall - what's on your list?

What about BOB?

This summer I started receiving email updates from MotherTalk. I wasn't sure how I'd come into contact with the group, but I liked the website and the products that are endorsed don't seem pushy. As I skimmed an email blast recently, I noticed that BOB books would be up for review and I eagerly signed on as a participant.

We received our first collection of BOB books when miss A was four. Because I was reading before kindegarten, I was eager for MY CHILD (that's me being all stage mama like), to read before kindegarten as well. Miss A being her unique and individual self, had other ideas. First off, she never does anything to the speed of another agenda. Potty-training and reading apparently, was going to happen when she was good and ready, and our first collection of BOB books became coloring books, I sheepishly admit. (The simple and sweet  illustrations are actually perfect for coloring and really, it's sort of cute.)

Last Spring when A began to read, these books became fast favorites. Simple sentences with easy to sound out words, these books gave A the confidence to continue reading, especially during those first few months which can be so frustrating for beginners.

Thumbing through one of the books last night, I came across an illustration that I love. You all know of my fondness for chickens and I admit, that I've considered a chicken tattoo on more than one occasion. Imagine my delight when I found this image,

immediately inspiring me to want this little hen on the tops of my feet. Get it? Chicken feet? I know, I missed my calling. M thinks it's a bad idea, mostly because he doesn't like the cartoon aspect of the bird. To me, that's the best part! I would get endless amounts of amusement out of my feet and they'll be a big hit with the kiddies.

But I digress. BOB books are a fantastic introduction to reading for wee ones. The last page of each book breaks down the sounds from the story (in the red hen, we've got short vowels). 12 books contained in a slim box, easy for travel and little fingers, the BOB books would be a great stocking stuffer.

self portrait challenge - bathroom.4

How to entertain oneself when you're at a theatrical performance that leaves something to be desired.

The last week of peeking into bathrooms over here

Book Club #3 and a little tele too

As a big fan of novels about carni and circus folk, I was looking forward to reading Water for Elephants. Told from the perspective of a circus vet, the story weaves from present to past as the main character, Jacob reflects on his life and love. I love the whole concept of a traveling train circus. Animals were slaughtered, people were thrown from moving trains, life in the circus followed a hierarchy and everyone was vulnerable.  A fast read, I loved the story even though the plot was somewhat predictable.

I enjoy interspersing short stories into my repetoire, especially when I'm reading fluff. This collection is inspired; I read the stories slowly so I can savor the words. 

I've been anxious to receive my first quarterly volume of this zine, which finally arrived in my box on Thursday. I love the tiny blurb at the end of each story, identifying the author. And I love the idea of each story beginning with the same, first line; so alluring to find how each interpretation unfolds.

Weeds is brilliant. I can't imagine how the season will end. Dexter begins again on the 30th, I wait with baited breathe. Curb began last week, a veritable cringe fest but funny just the same. And this week. This week the networks bring back my favorite and a new one I'm curious about.

It's Friday Love #75

Photo booth Friday. The last of the strips from the shore.

The little stuff.

• roller derby: the musical tonight in the city and a much needed haircut
• this exhibit  i'm so looking forward to seeing this show, it's been too long since i've been to a proper museum
• another reason to love fall, crunching acorns. they burst perfectly, with the most satisfying popping feeling underfoot.

The Divine Miss A.

I love our walks to and from school. Our conversation flows, almost stream of conscious. I love listening to her observations, watching as she jumps onto a low wall, tight-roping it across a low run of bricks. And remembering when I was six years old, that same joy.

My heart aches as I watch my girl pine for the neighbor girl E, who realizes that A is at her beck and call. E plays with A as long as there's no better offer. If someone else calls or comes along, E is off like a brides' nightie and my girl crumbles into a heap of tears, her heart broken a little more. "She's not that mean mommy" A defends when I try to explain that this isn't how friends treat one another. I know I can't protect A from heartbreak when it comes to friends and even, boyfriends. I'm trying to help her understand what it takes to be a good friend and hopefully with that knowledge, my girl will be able to walk away from the 'friends' that don't treat her as such, knowing that there are others that will and do.

There's a reason I don't care for donuts...

Even though this CT scan is routine, I'm anxious. Nothing after midnight (in case of nausea from the iodine), my appointment was scheduled for 8:30 this morning. The radiologist was stuck in traffic and finally, at 9:30 I was called. I didn't handle that wait very well. I was angry that I had to ask before anyone said anything about my appointment running late. I was thirsty and I was scared. So I sat in the waiting room with tears rolling down  my face, waiting.

The CT machine is a big donut and the table glides in and out of the middle, stopping where you'll be scanned. I had an IV started, they needed to inject iodine for contrast; needing to see if there's blood flowing to the area of concern. Even a routine exam, isn't so routine when you get down to it.

Iodine in the body is pretty gross. You feel warm. For me it was my hands and my pelvis, others the chest. And you have this foul, almost burnt taste in your mouth. Afterwards you drink a lot of water, so you can flush the iodine out of your body. I wonder if it's like salt and you bloat up?

The films will be read this morning, maybe even right now as I'm writing this.  And assuming there's nothing dire, the report will be to my doctor in 48 hours. If there's something in need of immediate attention, they call right away. Lets hope there's none of that.

I'd be lying if I said I'm cool right now, because I'm anything but. This is my biggest fear, my lungs. I was a smoker and I've had lung cancer in my family on both sides. I said to M as we left the hospital that night, that the xrays made me feel relieved that there wasn't anything serious with my lungs; almost like I was tempting fate when I uttered that sentence a month ago.

The momentum has begun. What happens now is out of my hands I think foolishly, because when was it ever anything but? In our conversation this morning, urban urchin said, 'all you have is right now'. I know this, but hearing it this morning, it clicked. I can waste even more time worrying what if for the next 48 hours, or I can focus on right now. Lunch with my wise friend. A's violin lesson this afternoon. Work later this evening. I can stop and notice what's good around me or I can suck on a lozenge of miserable what if's. Today is not that day.

Self Portrait Challenge - bathroom.3

My mirrored vanity table was a college graduation gift, one of the best gifts I've ever received. Two thin strips of mirror were missing on either side of the main drawer. I found mini tiles of stone in a rainbow of color, and this is how I patched the strips, a reminder of design school, 22 years later.

In San Francisco and Brooklyn, my table lived inside the walk-in closets; of all the locations I've put her, I like closets the best. A true dressing room, so brilliant when clothing and accoutrement are together.

When we added a master bath to the third floor, the architect made the perfect niche for my vanity table, a nook opposite my sink. Makeup and brushes, perfume and jewelry.  I sit at my table and preen.

peek into other bathrooms over here

five, ten a big fat hen

Milking my birthday weekend and keeping my mind distracted from thinking about my CT scan scheduled for this Wednesday, I give you another meme.

september 1997

how old were you?  33.

in school? where? First semester of acupuncture school in Manhattan.

where did you work? I'd quit my job three months prior as a space planner. I designed (if you can even call it that, pfft) buildings full of worker-bee cubicles in 1/8" scale minutia.

where did you live? Manhattan.

where did you hang out? On solo adventures, bookstores. Date nights involved dinners out or the movies and we loved the neighborhood  hotel bars for a nightcap.

did you wear glasses? No.

who was your best friend? Megan.

tattoos? 4

piercings? Ears

car? Nope. Our feet got us around, and a yellow cab now and again.

single/taken/married/divorced? Married 13 months.

september 2002

how old were you? 38

where did you work? I was a new graduate and had my own private acupuncture practice in Manhattan on Broadway and 13th.

where did you hang out? Mostly Brooklyn.

did you wear glasses? Nope.

who was your best friend? H-girl

any new tattoos or piercings? Not a one.

car? 2002 Honda CRV

single/taken/married/divorced  married, 6 years

september 2007

how old are you? 43

where do you work? I have a private acupuncture practice in a deep-pocketed town

where do you live? In suburbia

do you wear glasses? Probably

where do you hang out? At the roller rink, in my car and still, bookstores

do you talk to your old friends? some yes, some no

new tattoos or piercings? Nose re-pierced and 3 tattoos. Mid-life crisis much?

car? A beetle and a station wagon

single/taken/married/divorced  married, 11 years