Clouds

Big 8 in the sky.


Candy floss.



Heavy paint.

Hot dry winds today. Probably cooler tomorrow, as September steps in.

Gadgets

And, of course, today was very slow, and I got called off. Which is fine, because I got yesterday off for free, actually getting credit for helping out, and not a sick day which counts against me. Back is much better today. Moby keeping me company.

Watched Stephen Fry's show about favorite Gadgets. It's a fascinating list, and I love the other people who comment on the gadgets. Especially Jo Brand, a fellow nurse (who claims, as a psych nurse that she's not a 'real nurse' - and earns my respect thereby) who makes me laugh. Sad (or maybe good) that Mr. Fry is not a surgeon, they have innumerable gadgets, new ones all the time.

The order of the list feels a bit random, I think it would be more - useful (?) grouped rather than ordered. The garlic press and apple peeler fall into the drawer for the Goddess Anoia. That the retractable tape measure is supposed to be only for men is plain wrong. I had a small one as a kid, and it was one of my favorite toys. I have one of the regular ones now, and it is such a satisfying mechanism.

I wanted to do a list, but I'm out of energy. TTFN.

White

Ran my ass off today, surely walked my 10K steps, so tired. So sore. Most happy for the extra pair of hands. A few expect more, and grumble at what they did not get, and most would not expect. I should have gone in to clean up one room after their case ended. But I'd sat down, and could not convince myself to get up again. Beer and massager and capsaicin rub since I got home.

How the hell did I do this ten hours a day when my back really hurt all the time? Getting old. Or my body is. My mind still flexible, my heart still warm and pliant. But the scar tissue takes over the muscles, the bone bubbles up, the tendons stiffen. The nerves object, the skin mirrors the decay, the hair lets another strand grey.

The sky is beautiful, all dusky purple, golden pinks, smears of orange against gentle blues. I dare not try to catch it on camera, it won't be the same. I hold it in my eyes. We stand and drink it in.

Traded a shift for a fellow nurse's benefit, Wednesday for tomorrow, so I can sleep tomorrow if I can sleep. Thunderous storms last night, so we opened the blinds and window, to watch the show, until it eased enough, and we tried to dream. I managed, D less so.

And since I began to write this, the clouds are a dull white in a grey sky, a quieter appeal, far less flashy, soon to be dark.

Not dark yet, but it's getting there.

Paranormal

Long ago, when I was going through some rough times, I was approached by a tarot card reader at a local fair. I don't remember what she said to me, but it resonated, and she gave me her card. I went to see her. Not because I even considered that she could tell me my future, but because I wanted a cold reading. Nothing I was trying seemed to help, and the last thing I needed was a counselor asking me what I thought. I wanted to be given advice, that I could take or ignore. I needed a fresh voice, a different perspective. And I could not afford to shop around for real therapy.

She provided me over an hour of solid attention, for far less than I would have paid for professional counseling, or even a massage. It was all a little bit silly, but she did pick up on my not taking care of my health. Within a few weeks, I had a bad boil lanced, and an abscessed tooth cleared out. She didn't know what she was picking up, nor did I, but I was prompted to investigate. Most of what she told me was certainly bullshit, but I don't remember. Just the conversation, guiltlessly all about me, was healing.

I've had my own tarot cards for over two decades. I never considered them predictive, but a randomized study of my own thoughts, based on old human archetypes. That I remember the accurate predictions is not a surprize. When I played the Tower, I thought deeply about ending the first marriage. Our minds react to the right stimulus. Nothing magical or fabulous about it, more like seeing mug shots, and reacting to the right face. "That's it, that's the problem." Finding words, finding the right image, identifying the problem that had been squirming away from me, is the mechanism. If magic is a trick, then it's magic.

Just as a good placebo can work, getting my head in the right place, by whatever means, helps. A subtle sidestep to recalcitrant thoughts. When stuck, use anything at hand. Mental lubricant.

No need to glorify it, though. It really isn't mystical.

Reading Paranormal America, whose authors study not the validity or lack thereof of other-than-rational convictions. Rather, they researched the people who hold these beliefs. And found no easy answers. Not just nutters, although there are some of those. Some of it is education, income, power, or often - lack of these. But not all. A very different set of people set out to find Sasquatch through fieldwork, than those who see demons in the eyes of every non-Christian, or the casual astrology user. I'm not quite done, but I can't see how they could come to any single conclusion. It's too big a question, like finding a cure for cancer, when there are so many different kinds. Or the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, much depends on the actual question.

I do suspect, though, that mainstream science's queasiness about the whole subject to be a huge detriment to understanding the human mind, and how we deal with being social beings and individuals, each strangers in strange lands. Dismissing the manifestation as ridiculous misses the point.

Precautions

Moby is not concerned. Or aware.

Gorging myself on weather news for Irene's path up the coast. I liken it to D watching the odd weekend of Formula 1 races. Harsh weather has a magnetic appeal for me. This is a guiltless pleasure , since I have no way to affect the weather. Probably a good thing.

We've been discussing the problem with proper preparation. One can never be completely sure when it works. And there will be those who decry the precautions as useless, 'it wasn't that bad.' As D says. there is more satisfaction in bemoaning a disaster that is mishandled, and the worst outcome happens. But, at least the decision to close the subways in NYC seem to have some proof to have been wise. There is more appeal to stories of people stupid enough to wade in the surf and get sucked into the hurricane. Someone killed by a fallen tree while staying at home is just sad. One is Natural Selection, the other is random, speaks to the essential unfairness of existence.

You get what everyone gets. You get a lifetime.

Thickening

Dreams thicken my sleep.
Grandmother, too young, alive
And speaking English.

My father's mother only spoke French, River Canard French, rural and uneducated. Her English was rudimentary. She was mostly bedridden since before I was born, and I hardly remember her sitting up, walking only when I was very small. There were many reasons given for this, including a hip surgery in her 70s, at a time when this wasn't a safe course for someone younger. There were lots of pills, and whispers of cancer, and the surety that she would not make it through the summer, through the winter. I suspect she was sick from being in bed too much, although I never questioned it at the time. She lived to be 98, cared for by her daughter, the aunt of mine I most disliked. She died when I was 22.

I have very little feeling for her, good or bad. She was a non-entity, who called me June. Given that I was the only granddaughter, and only one of three grandchildren, it probably says a lot about how children were seen on that side of the family. I have no rancor about this, a matter of no real consequence to me. So, why was I dreaming of her, as a middle aged woman speaking to me kindly and in good English?

Arthroscopy

I've been setting up hip arthroscopies a lot recently. Five in the last two days, so the list for them is in my head. It's quite a folderol.

1. Get computer and monitors started, as for any case. Return between each job to hit various prompts as system progresses.
2. C-arm in room, on correct side. If both left and right will be done that day, plug in main power to monitor so it can be switched from side to side without unplugging. Bag foot pedal, place under bed.
3. Adjust standard bed, leg segment lowered, fetch positioner.
4. Apply positioner, with leg holders on the correct side. Lock everything down.
5. Put pads on leg holders, available for later.
6. Get X-ray aprons in room, get my own thyroid shield from locker.
7. Two neptune suction (20 L) machines in position.
8. Hang and dual-spike 3L LR bags. Check amount of fluid bags on cart.
9. Turn on camera, light, shaver box, electrocautery, unravel foot controls for last two, cover with plastic bags and position under end of bed.
10. Set out chloroprep and shaver, have arm pads and towel clips. Armboards on bed.
11. Sheets on bed - another every case thing.
12. Meet patient.
13. Start music. Literally, not being poetic here.
14. Get local anesthetic.

1. Patient enters room on gurney with anesthesiologist, I get warm blankets, help patient move over. Put armboard on, take gurney out.
2. Remove grip socks, apply foot/leg pads, safety belt.
3. Tie up scrub gown. Assist anesthesiologist as needed.
4. Assist surgeon to position, although he does most of it. I take care of the arm tucked across the chest, apply warming blanket.
5. Get C-arm in position as they drape.
6. Plug in camera, light, shaver, fluid pump, suction, lay down dam blankets, make sure everything is working.
7. Chart, keep fluids and suction going.
8. Set up post op cooling pad and roller on gurney in hall, with O2 tank and mask.
9. Stave off boredom for the next few hours.
10. Move patient onto gurney, clean everything up, do it again.

Upward

Lovely clouds this morning.

This is the area that burned in July. All the mountains are remarkably green for this time of year.


And this is what it looked like the day after the wildfire.


Could not come up with a Ten Things list today, although I would still like to.

Stank

The air stank, tasted so bad driving up to work, at 0700, that I closed the car windows and turned on the AC. I try not to do that even when coming home in the heat of the day. I often don't turn it on unless I have a passenger, no matter how hot it is. A few half hearted storms brushed by, enough to improve the breathing matter by the time I headed home. Left dusty watermarks on the windshield, as trace proof. The prediction is that all will be clearer tomorrow, but still nearly 100˚F.

This whole week felt weird and out of step. An excess of loony patients. Strange cases, oddly broken equipment.

Must sleep better tonight.

Mouth

Got my teeth cleaned this morning, a nice walk there and back before it gets too hot to even stick my nose outside. Hard to complain too much, given how moderate a summer this has been here, and how bad it's been elsewhere. So, consider this a little quiet whimpering. I never much liked heat, of any kind.

The dentist and his assistant asked after my mouth injury last November, as expected. I was able to report that my front teeth feel fine, to the point of being able to bite into an apple. What else could I want? Another patient of his fell on her face at the same time, and she lost at least one tooth, and is still going through the process of dental repair. I mentioned that my orthodontist wanted to prolong the wearing of the retainer, go for a bit more adjustment, and I called it good. "In striving for perfection, we oft mar that which is perfectly adequate." Or as I told the dentist, "The enemy of good... ." * I mentioned that the plastic attending who checked the suture line wanted to do something about the little extra blip of scar on the philtrum, seeing as it would be covered by workman's comp. I dismissed the idea without a second thought. I don't want any more messing about around my mouth than I can avoid. (And I bristled at the idea of soaking the system for superfluous vanity.)

Which is why I never eat popcorn. Not that I've ever broken a tooth or crown on a kernel, but I don't want to break one while eating popcorn, then have my dentist ask me "How did this break?" And I'd have to tell him, and he'd think I was an idiot, and what is most important, he would be right. I really love popcorn.

Reading through the November posts, I realized I'd been doing a Ten Things writing-assist-exercise on Fridays. That was a really good idea. Wonder why I forgot it. Good thing to have this recorded memory going on.



*... is better."

Augusted

Now used discarded
Disheveled, dusty, waiting
For the rains of fall.








(under the bed)

A thorough and thoughtful essay on the Gargle -- policy on "real names." Well worth the time, even if you were not considering joining.

Weights

The tree underground is heavy, the leaves flutter lightly.
The ocean doesn't move, the wind and sun create currents and waves.

So the wise, when tired and travel worn,
Hold onto their bags, eat well, take care of their feet.
They notice the beauty, but consult the map,
Stay unruffled and calm.

Don't let anyone control anything,
If they can't discipline themselves.
Get caught up in changing fashion,
And lose your footing.
Be restless and unsatisfied,
You will never find your way.

Finger (O.E. finger). the old names for the fingers are: -
O.E. thuma, the thumb.
Towcher (the finger that touches), foreman, or pointer. This was called by the Anglo-Saxons the scite-finger, i.e. the shooting finger, and is now commonly known as the index finger, because it is the one used in pointing.
Long-man or long finger.
Lech-man or ring finger. The former means "medical finger," and the latter is a Roman expression, "digitis annularis." Called by the Anglo-Saxons the gold-finger. This finger between the long and little finger was used by the Romans as a ring-finger, from the belief that a nerve ran through it to the heart. Hence the Greeks and Romans used to call it medical finger, and used it for stirring mixtures, under the notion that nothing noxious could touch it without its giving instant warning to the heart. It is still a general notion in parts of England that it is bad to rub salve or scratch the skin with any but the ring finger.

At last he put on her medical finger a pretty, handsome gold ring, whereinto was enchased a precious toadstone of Beausse, - RABELAIS: Pantagruel, III,xviii.

Little-man or little finger. Called by the Anglo-Saxons the ear-finger, because it can, from its diminutive size, be most easily introduced into the orifice of the ear.
The fingers each had their special significance in alchemy, and Ben Jonson says -
The thumb, in chriomancy, we give to Venus;
The fore-finger to Jove; the midst to Saturn;
The ring to Sol; the least to Mercury.
Alchemist,I,ii.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963, p 359.

Plans

And today, went to lunch with D's brother, who flew in for the weekend from California. He has connections and gets quite the deal on flights here, and still has a huge number of friends - mostly in the music community, here. We did get invited to dinner with him last night, with the brothers parents, but we were not about to cancel on Dave and K. However, we did pass them on the way out of Red Iguana - so we stopped for hugs, and made plans for lunch with bro today.

Drove up the canyon to the Diner, to get out of the valley air. It didn't feel MUCH cooler, but we had time to talk.

Before we headed out, Moby came out to be admired, and claim ownership. D's brother is a cat-guy. Part of what I like about him.

D got his new chair today. Just like my drafting stool that I've had since Boston and the original back pain onset. His old office chair is gone, and although he wishes this one slightly more padded, he does like how sturdy it is, and the position he sits in for playing guitar. And I have my chair back, now. Well, he had to give it a good try to be sure it was going to work for him.

Shiatsu

Got a shiatsu massage on Wednesday, which both helps, and hurts - but not harms. Found lots of hot spots, I'm following up on all of them. And I will follow up with her as well, she's got a good touch. I think I've found my massage therapist, I hope when she's finished her training she stays somewhere close.

Thursday spent entirely at work, a taffy day. Sweet, but it stretched out... kept going and going and going. The nurse scrubbed in appreciated that I had everything put away by the time the patient left the room, a no inconsiderable bit of running. We were the last two staff, and I know I didn't want to stay longer than necessary. I stopped her in sterile processing to tell her the room was done, and she could just leave. This went over well. I've been scrubbed with another nurse circulating who does nothing to clean up ahead of time on late days, which keeps me from respecting her.

Friday, we'd finally managed to plan a day to meet up with Dave and K, so I asked to be out on time. This is a feature of this job, if your room goes late, you stay until it's done. I knew this at my interview before I was hired. But, one can make a particular request, and everyone does their best to help out. Ran a lot on Friday, did get out on time.

So lovely to share amazing food with two dear friends. K had the mole amarillo, which we all had to taste. Wow. I knew her to be a brave woman, but holy cajones! Nothing like hot food to lift one's mood. Next time we go there, I'm gettin' that. We didn't skirt any sad issues, but neither did we dwell on them. K played D's Martin, and Dave asked D "why two pick-ups on a Telecaster?" D was happy as a gear head asked a question. Pigs in mud got nothing on that.

Too

RtheS read my mind about the dearth of memes. Maybe it's just that we've been doing this so long, and memes are like early date conversations. What is your favorite color? Me TOO!

But I liked her spontaneous set of random statements, am having trouble writing, so I'm stealing the idea.


My face is often dry, and I have pretty good lotion, but I often get clogged pores from it. Flaky or acne, the current choice.

Eating a lot of vegetables for several months is almost certainly a very good thing but it is unlikely to be a cure for chronic back pain.

Solitude is a fine thing, but some sort of social contact makes a huge difference.

Giving up anything means time to let the body adjust. Excess can help, as with the malted milk balls a few weeks ago. Once done with the bag, I find myself with a revulsion to sugar, a bit more than the attraction. I'm using it.

I seem to use the words 'ponder' and 'bugger' a lot. The latter, mostly at work, because it's a good swear word, but in the US, not heard as such.

Our voip connection went down over the weekend. D had to deal with it, and it took until Monday afternoon. Not that it matters, no one calls.

I'd like a bigger apartment, by one room.

Probably not going away for vacation for a long time. I know this bothers D quite a lot, though he doesn't say much.

Dignity

Whatcha upto?



(stretch)



(bunch)


"Dignity... always..."


"... nDign... (chew, gnaw) nty."

Gibbous

From last week, when the moon waxed gibbous.

So good to circulate for an RN scrubbing. No matter how good the scrub tech, having a nurse in that position makes the day go easier. They cannot help but think about the stuff that helps the circulator, they have stuff in the room, they group requests together, they ask the surgeon for what else is needed. Just having all RN staff seems too expensive, but I often wonder if it would avoid a host of tiny expenses that over time would make it worthwhile. I'm just glad I got in while they were still routinely training RNs to scrub as well. I'm better at both sides of the job because I actually do both. As surgeons who have worked their way up are more considerate and less wasteful, usually as aides and ancillary staff, but even that makes a difference.

Thinking about the car habit of allowing space driving, letting cars in, not filling every gap. Comparing it to substances that stick and clump when going through a narrow space, versus material that flows and does not stick. I think when we drive closely and greedily, we become sticky, in exactly the same way. So when we allow space, we flow.

Husband

In the mystery before time
Before earth, before the stars
In silence and nothingness
Eternal and infinite
Transcending all description, moving all things,
Perhaps this created us.
Presumptuous to give it a name,
call it tao
as a way to point at it.

Immense, it flows
Far away
then returns.

Tao
Space
Earth
Humanity
All important,
All faces of tao.

We grow out of the earth,
The earth is born of the universe,
The universe arose from tao,
Tao speaks through our understanding.


This one was challenging, and I'm not really satisfied with the words available in English. It clunks, I think.

Husband. The word is from O.E. hus, house, and Old Norse bondi, a freeholder or yeoman, from bua, to dwell; hence, the word is literally, a house-owner in his capacity as head of the household, and so came to be applied to a man joined to a woman in marriage, who was, naturally, the head of his household. When Sir John Paston, writing to his mother in 1475, said -
I purpose to leeffe alle heer, and come home to you and be your hisbonde and balyff,
he was proposing to come and manage her household for her. We use the word in the same sense in such phrases as To husband one's resources.

Similarly a ship's husband is an official responsible for seeing that all the equipment, etc., necessary for going to sea is placed on board a ship before sailing, that all the regulations relating to the voyage are fulfilled, and that the captain is sufficiently furnished with money, etc., for carrying on business when in foreign or other ports.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963, p 475.

Teal

Scrub at work trying to get on my good side, without actually having to do her job properly, tries to engage me in chit-chat. As you can probably imagine, this does not fool me much at all. Little social butterfly cum drama queen, entitled as hell, everyone is her "friend" or snubbed, no inbetween.

"Soooo, what are you doing this weekend?!"

Me, trying to chart, "Nothing."

"Ohhh, just spending time with your hubby!"

"I never think of him as a 'hubby.'"

"It means 'husband.'"†

"Yes, ... I know." I say this very neutrally. I stay silent after, as anything else I could say would not be kind, nor kindly taken. I really dislike that word. It goes in the same bin as wifey and ball & chain, with all the old mother-in-law jokes. Some words just get tainted. Or coined to be vaguely insulting. Hubby indeed. Not a word I would ever associate with my dear D.

Another discussion this week, as I called the new color for Coban that Dr. Hurryhurry likes- teal*. Anesthesiologist laughed that only women would know that. I countered that there are a lot of male painters, designers, and other artists who are very fluent in the language of colors, it's not a female thing. He had to concede the point. When I added that I just love the many words, and the words for colors are rather wonderful, he had to admit that he also loved words. I do love getting around the sides of people's assumptive attitudes.

And I remembered how I used to be able to get my mother to occasionally slip on her ironclad assumptions and attitudes with tacking arguments meant to zig zag gradually around the granite beliefs. Very tiring, but it did teach me how to get inside prejudiced thinking and find the weak sides. Most bigots only fortify the front.

Trying a non-fiction book. So far, so good. I'll let you know.



Been meaning to mention for weeks, with good white tea, always make several brewings. The second is always very good, the third and sometimes forth have a charm of their own.

It's been 83 days since I smashed my thumb, down near the quick, and I still have purple under the nail to grow out. Another week or so yet.




*We have red, cobalt blue, pale blue, neon pink, violet, dark green, yellow with bumble bees, blue with cars, and now - teal.

†Amazing, isn't it, that people who aren't as bright as they think they are, cannot imagine anyone brighter than themselves?

August

August sits on me
Huge, hot, panting mass of dog.
I struggle to breathe.

Noses

Stretch up, pretend to be tall, you will fall off your shoes.
Take giant steps, you will tire before you get anywhere.
Brag about your serenity and happiness, to show you are blind and lost.
Boast about how good you are, and everyone will look for evidence that you are not.
When it's all talk, you will have nothing made to hold in your hands.
When it's all for show, it will blow away like dust, like smoke.

To follow the way to life, drop all pretense.
Expecting praise and happiness is the surest way to miss both.
So, avoid them.

Brasenose College (braz' noz)* (Oxford). Over the gate is a brass nose, the arms of the college; but the word is a corruption of the brasehuis, a brasserie or brewhouse, the college having been built on the site of an ancient brewery. For over 550 years the original nose was at Stamford, for in the time of Edward III the students, in search of religious liberty, migrated thither, taking the brazen nose with them. They were soon recalled, but the nose remained on their Stamford gateway till 1890 when, the property coming into the market, it was acquired by the College.

-Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963, p 139.

The origin of the nose is not clear. That a college is built on a brewery site is not surprizing. My granny was born in 1890, which is my personal historic touchstone. Living memory.

Yes, I've picked up the tao again. These things take the time they take. Like waiting for the bus.



*That should be a long 'a' and 'o', but I can't figure out how to make the proper mark.

Shooting

Watching a series on earth sciences, by Dr. Iain Stewart. I heard, "The volcano is shitting out carbon dioxide!" I had to think a moment... shooting! Not shitting, shoooooting.

Today was a day of large and wimpy patients. Not squirrely, but sensitive and vocal. All very small cases, minor procedures with local anesthetic and a bit of sedation - although more than was planned. With the understanding that minor surgery can only happen to someone else. Still, this bunch were remarkable for their size and whine. On the other hand, our surgeon was particularly whiny today as well. I suspect a connection.

Have friends on Groogle netface, so I considered joining. But because they insist on real names, I will have to decline. I've been careful to keep this site away from my professional life, and other riff-raff, and I need to keep it that way. A motivated, if not terribly talented, hacker could no doubt find me. A casual searcher on Gargle using my full name could not. I know, I've tried. I like writing without inhibition, if still in a kind of code. I don't put other people's names on here either. Except Dave, but that's only because he could as well be John, or Mike.

Keeping my relative anonymity.

Slurp

Dave's cat, Chance, has for a very long time has his water out of a tall drinking glass. We've tried this recently with Moby, and he loves it. The pint glass worked, but I suspected he would knock it over and picked it up immediately. I tried a plastic tall glass, knowing what to expect - and sure enough. I heard the sploosh, as he ran out into the living room with a distinct "WTF" expression on his face. Then I thought of these squarer bottomed recycled glasses.

"Oh, cool!"


"It just tastes better."


"What drinking problem?"



Whatever it takes to make the cat happy. Well, there are worse purposes in life.

Arrange

Arrangement with Cat and Clutter.



Thumb on 22 May.



Thumb on 7 August.

Parking

Parental supervision is not always what it's cracked up to be.

5-year-old child towed away in mother's unattended car
August 6th, 2011 @ 5:27pm
By ksl.com
SOUTH JORDAN -- A 5-year-old boy was fast asleep as a tow truck removed the car he was in.

According to the South Jordan Police Department, the boy was sleeping in the family's SUV while his mother was away for several minutes. Before the mother returned, the SUV was towed away around 1 a.m.

When she came out, her car and child were gone because her vehicle was parked illegally in a handicap parking stall.

"I've never seen this in the 10 years I've been in law enforcement," said Sgt. Eric Anderson of the South Jordan Police Department. "A child is pretty precious and for someone to leave their child in the back of a vehicle unattended, regardless if it is five minutes or more."

Authorities said the tow truck driver never saw the child.

Officers will continue to investigate the events of the night. Possible charges may be raised against the mother for leaving her child unattended.

Even when they don't cop to it, meth users are pretty obvious. The teeth, the blotched, discolored skin, the reaction to anesthetic. Not that there are any drug users reading here, but if there are, be honest if you go in for surgery. Really. We'll figure it out eventually, don't care about informing law enforcement, and you'll get better anesthetic if you are scrupulously honest. Seriously.

Young woman yesterday, meth mouth, blotchy meth legs, asthmatic, smoker, went down grasping at us, emerged coughing up a lung, nauseated, crying, wailing. Her spouse most likely involved in a gang, or had been, based on tattoos, clothes, but the clincher - simple behaviour in terms of posture and keeping his hat in the way of eye contact from the nurses taking care of his wife. All rather strange, but indicative. Maybe I was wrong, I'm always willing to be taught different cultural norms. But, from what I know, this is how it read.

No one can be stopped from self destruction. Or Darwinism.

Mammals

Abandoned two books this week. One (older, non-fiction) involved so many ancient attitudes it was giving me nightmares, the other (fiction, recent) too picaresque without a compelling storyline - and the author betrayed a hatred of cats. I'm grateful to wikipedia, because I can get a synopsis and decide if I want to keep plugging away or not. Usually not, since, if I am smelling extreme belief or lack of direction, I can pretty much trust my instincts. This time, I'm also avoiding this author, who seems to be in with the tipped over Libertarians, who wind up sitting right next to the Right-wing nutjobs. Shouting at each other, but still sitting together.

Thinking about a great teacher, Mark Esper, who took us through the 'isms' and history. That all the dogma, in their extreme expressions, meet in the same place by different roads. They all become coercive, violent, inhumane, in order to get everyone thinking the same way. Left, right or weird, doesn't matter. It's the extremism that kills.

Not particularly liking cats, fine. I'm not really fond of rabbits or ferrets. But I wouldn't consider hating them to be a reasonable position. They are little furry critters, with their own species specific agendas, to which anger is not a rational response. Even going as far as admitting fear - away from facing the actual animal, is a bit off the scale. Ferrets have an odor that I would not want to live with, and taking in a pet who will steal my socks is not my idea of a good animal roommate. They are fun to watch, no question. Bunnies are very soft, but I'm not familiar with their habits. Don't feel any attraction to reptiles, snakes, birds, or other non-mammalian pets, but even there, hatred seems over the top. Dogs need to be walked and trained, and if I can't do right by a dog, I'm not going to take on the care of one. Cats fit with how we live, so we have Moby.

Waste of energy to go around attacking a species, or a class.*


TMBG, Mammal
Glass of milk,
Standing in between extinction in the cold
and explosive radiating growth
So the warm blood flows
Through the large four-chambered heart
Maintaining the very high metabolism rate they have

Mammal, mammal
Their names are called
They raise a paw
The bat, the cat
Dolphin and dog
Koala bear and hog

One of us might lose his hair
But you're reminded that it once was there
From the embryonic whale to the monkey with no tail
So the warm blood flows
with the red blood cells lacking nuclei
Through the large four-chambered heart
Maintaining the very high metabolism rate they have

Mammal, mammal
Their names are called
They raise a paw
The bat, the cat
Dolphin and dog
Koala bear and hog

Placental the sister of her brother Marsupial
Their cousin called Monotreme
Dead uncle Allotheria

Mammal, mammal
Their names are called
They raise a paw
The bat, the cat
Dolphin and dog
Koala bear and hog
The fox, the ox
Giraffe and shrew
Echidna, caribou

(New TMBG album out, called Join Us. Really enjoying it, the more I listen to it. 'Mammal' is not from the new one. )

Should

Long ago, I saw a student production of a pretty forgettable play. But a phrase out of it has been stuck in my head ever since, and I find myself still saying it. "Should'a, could'a, would'a, if my aunt was a man she'd be my uncle."

Should never helps. Just because one has plans doesn't mean life will cooperate. Putting in effort does not guarantee results. Hope is more often dashed than fulfilled. Dreams fall apart on contact with waking life. Belief has fueled a lot of misguided missions. We can always choose to love, and find happiness, and live well. But we can never demand love of others, expect to be given what we think we need to make us happy, nor force health and wealth out of the world for ourselves. Life does not guarantee our next breath, why do we so often think we are owed a One True Love, a Great Career, Happiness! and Health? Or any of a number of benefits?

Lucky to be alive.

I once read an interpretation of the Pandora story, where the final evil was leaving humanity with hope. That desire to hold on and keep on trying, beyond reason, and to call it a virtue. Hope, not as the opposite of hopeless, but as the kind of idealism that keeps us from actually solving a problem, instead merely wishing it will get better. Wishes are chocolate kettles.* If wishes worked, a lot of awful people would be dead, I should know.


Worn out and squished out, will be better in a day or so.


*That waxy chocolate that tastes of chalk.

Audible

Long, long ago, when I went from evening (swing) shift (3-11P) to days, (7-3P) --- in the summer(!), I had to take measures to get myself asleep early enough to get a full night in before 6A. Training myself to fall asleep before I usually got home from work was not a whole lotta fun, srsly. I closed the blinds, put up window coverings, and put on the talk radio (NPR).

As a child, I often had to go to bed to my loud family playing cards, so people chatting - even loudly, will put me right to sleep. Not that I usually had a lot of trouble once I drifted off. But I especially loved the sensation of hearing voices clearly, then soundless, then hyper-clearly but without meaning, then fading as I lost consciousness. So, the idea of listening to radio had a definite source. Eventually the stories on the radio repeated, and I roused and had to shut it off, but by then it was late enough, and I just fell back into dreams. Now, I am drowsy and wanting to get in my pjs and brush my teeth at 8PM. Fully converted to lark. Not that I ever liked staying up late. Mostly I just loved sleeping a lot.

My dear D has always had insomnia issues, so has his father- it's apparently genetic. Long ago, he decided to try my method, and to a certain extent, it helped him quiet his hamster-wheel thoughts - as well as mine. We started off with tapes of Shelby Foote reading excerpts from The Civil War, and John Le Carré reading his own books. Added in the Winnie the Pooh read by Richard Briers - which D had never been read as a child. Then Pratchett books, mostly read by Steven Briggs. Other books from Audible* have appeared. Now, it is a nightly ritual, and still works beautifully on me. To the point that it is sometimes difficult to sleep on vacation without being "told a story" first.

I used to ask D, long before the day shift issue, when I was having trouble settling my mind to "tell me a boring story." He usually came up with something so boring I wound up laughing hysterically. The recordings, the more often listened to the better, work rather more effectively. D also now takes recorded books and podcasts and radio shows to listen to while at work - which is largely a manual job so that's ok. He's shared a lot of the Mitchell & Webb, Stephen Fry, and various quiz shows with me. As well as the Welcome to Mars series. Actually, I put him on to that, from an article in the Fortean Times. Anyway...

Listening to books repeatedly in a prodromal state of mind sometimes means I know them more deeply. I've heard Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy more often than I can count. I finally figured out an essential plot point, hidden but not hidden at all.† I still laugh at the line about betrayers "Jesus Christ only had twelve, and one of them was a double." Details that I, as a fast reader, would not have paid much attention to. Listening has forced me to slow down, and take the journey with the characters, in all it's richness.

Audiobooks will never replace reading, but it has it's own charms. Like radio, which requires a particular kind of attention.




Just reading Un Lun Dun by China Mieville, and so far, I'm fascinated. I'll let you know... .




*Yes, this is a plug. Audible been very good to us.



†Spoiler Alert! Although, I knew the ending before I started, and that never subtracted from my enjoyment of the book. Bill Hayden already knew Karla - when he took Jim Prideaux to hear him lecture, on their first "date."

Coffee

Tea is wonderful, tea is essential. Tea can be very difficult to find out in the wild, in this coffee culture. Warm water and a cheap teabag in a styrofoam or paper cup is common. Or an aluminum pot of hot water, a ceramic cup, and a small assortment of flavored tisanes and maybe one Earl Grey bag, with a few lemon slices, sugar and fake sugar packets and creamer. As though they should cover up the tiny portion of tea, which they find an unpleasant substitute for coffee. I have not tried to order tea out for many years, giving it up as a bad job. Except at Chinese restaurants, where it is always oolong, but at least it's reliably good. Indian restaurants only serve the sweet milky mix, which is probably fine, but I've never liked sweet tea. A drop of milk* I can stand, especially if I've over steeped a pot but I still want to drink it.

So often, I wished I could like coffee. But unlike most people, I can't even stand the smell of it. My father eating shredded wheat with hot coffee poured over is the most likely explanation - since that stinks of wet dog on a hot day. And I have tried to drink it, no one in the army hasn't. I'd have done almost anything on that duty to get some caffeine in me, but I couldn't manage downing a mug of coffee. D has tried as well, and had an even worse reaction than me. I did have some at a local specialty cafe, some Kenyan stuff, along with gazpacho, after a final exam. Not that I liked it much, but I figured I could get used to it. I could taste the quality, although it was not quite happy on my tongue. That place had decent tea, but the odor of coffee around reduced how much I could enjoy it.

In Boston, coffee was water of life, even the hospital cafe had good quality beverage. Dunkin' Donuts was not about pastry, it was all about the caffeine delivery system. I listened to others wax poetic, and I waited to get home to drink tea. No wonder it took me so long to stop drinking sugary cola. At this job, not only is there a coffee maker, two if you count the surgeon lounge, but someone brought in a French press, and a lot of mornings they do a batch up. At least the aroma does not fill the room.

On the other hand, the coffee maker has a hot water spigot, very nearly boiling. And I have a cubby hole to keep a ceramic mug, and a tin of oolong bags. It's not ideal, but it helps.





*Yes, I know. I can't explain this either.

Anvil

Beautiful evening. I went Sacred Harp singing for the first time in years. I was not the only one there going for the first time in a very long time. I forgot so much, but much came rushing back. Oh, yeah, we sing notes first, and oh, yeah, the notes have names. I wonder what they are. Managed a bit over an hour, and my voice began to give out. Quite hoarse, I've not been singing. Certainly not full voice. Watched the clouds coming home, and snatched D out to gaze with me. He is always glad to join me.