Grimy

Grime, see?



Put the oven back together. Cooking outside dirt (200˚F, 20 min.) to avoid inside bugges, to plant rooting leek.



Eleanor unimpressed.



Ice melt getting low, replenished. Gas in car, haven't seen it that cheap in... decades? Laundry nearly done. Peppermint where the cats have been acting "mouse-y." We got out and walked.

Looking at photos of myself half a life ago, and I realize how much more of me there is now. I look like all the stocky peasant women of the previous generation, who blamed their weight on their pregnancies. Well, apparently, no, just genetics. Thing is, because the mirrors in this house only show my upper, I hadn't noticed that the lower was proving to be so much of a pear. Not a lot I can do, other than increase my walking. Any strenuous activity, and I'm certain to injure myself back into inactivity. So, walking.

I refuse to get into my mother's mindset, or yo-yo diet, or body disgust. Dylan shrugs and hugs, so I get back the only reliable reflection. It what it is. Keep it stable.

Texas

Voog and me in the barracks. A lifetime ago.

Clearing

I believe that is Sharon Watts, neighbor who belonged to the dog, Boy. Correction, (possibly) Brenda, next door neighbor with cat, Morris.



This is about 20 years ago, on our first new sofa.




Snow started early this morning. We shoveled the slush layer and salted, which made afternoon clearing much easier. Very glad we didn't have to drive anywhere. Lots of water. Presumably snow in the mountains, for water later.



About 9AM.




About 3PM. And Our Friend Plow.

Gluing the panel back on the oven door.



Spent a good bit of time cleaning both of these, after. We'll reattach tomorrow.

Sarang

Words relating to feelings:

Gula: Spanish for the desire to eat simply for the taste
Sobremesa: Spanish for when the food has finished but the conversation is still flowing
Mbukimvuki: Bantu for “to shuck of one’s clothes in order to dance”
Schnapsidee: German for coming up with an ingenious plan when drunk
Volta: Greek for leisurely strolling the streets

Words relating to relationships:

Nakama: Japanese for friends who one considers like family
Kanyininpa: Aboriginal Pintupi for a relationship between holder and held, akin to the deep nurturing feelings experienced by a parent for their child
Gigil: Philippine Tagalog for the irresistible urge to pinch or squeeze someone because you love them so much
Kilig: Tagalog for the butterflies in the stomach you get when interacting with someone you find attractive
Sarang: Korean for when you wish to be with someone until death

Words relating to character:

Sitzfleisch: German for the ability to persevere through hard or boring tasks (literally “sit meat”)
Baraka: Arabic for a gift of spiritual energy that can be passed from one person to another
Jugaad: Hindi for the ability to get by or make do
Desenrascanco: Portuguese for the ability to artfully disentangle oneself from a troublesome situation
Sprezzatura: Italian for when all art and effort are concealed beneath a “studied carelessness”

Attenuated

Worrisome when three capable anesthesiologists, and four anesthesia residents, stand over a patient in the OR, and can't figure out what is going on. Weird situation, very atypical, seizures or drug reaction, consults going out, coming in, phone calls, drugs, planning to send pt to the Main hospital, neuro consult, scans. Not quite a code, always hemodynamically stable, airway managed. Two and a half hours on edge, never quite crisis, never quite resolving. Got pt sent up, although there were issues with that, too. Mother contacted by spouse, added that pt did this before after a childhood surgery, which is information anesthesiologist could have used earlier.

Went home with a low level post-adrenaline reaction.

Heard back this morning, pt is fine, no residual effects, very little memory, being worked up for a metabolic disorder of some sort.

There aren't always answers.

And my job, as with real full blown codes, was to stay in the room, answer phones, send other people out to get whatever the docs need, watch, listen, and very often - just stand there lookin' like an idiot. I did get an air warmer blanket on pt as soon as I realized we would be there a while, in the OR with the ventilator on the anesthesia unit. My one concrete action, the rest was delegation and biding. Like a code, stretched thin over a very long time.

I've done real codes, and been the circulator on the shunting switch, when everything is moving quickly, it still feels a bit idle, but not as badly as yesterday. I prefer to be one of the runners, gimme a job, I go DO.

Tired from a stop and start day, not sure what to do with myself at the moment. River of winter about to rush over us. Raining now, not cold yet.

Lt Rain
42°F
6°C
Humidity 73%
Wind Speed S 21 G 30 MPH
Barometer 29.93 in (1014.0 mb)
Dewpoint 34°F (1°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Wind Chill 33°F (1°C)
Last update 29 Jan 5:53 pm MST

Slickers

Niagara Falls, Cave of the Winds, or what was called that in 1965, I believe. Could have been on the Maid of the Mist -except for the concrete and plants behind. Or behind the falls. It was a good day trip from Detroit, we went pretty much every year. Easily my favorite place to visit.

Rapids

My mother's favorite photo of me. This was fraught, both about the religion and my own sense of not being pretty. Could have been any child from this angle. As for the waxy el Niño, imagining myself now thinking "I got issues with you, kid."



And the wedding of my cousin I had to cut my hair for. The whole event a bafflement. I tried to be kind to the little ring bearer, even younger than me. I remember being in that room of grown women, all but Carol were strangers. The stink of perfume and powder, more underwear and skin than that sisterless child was comfortable with, shunted to the edges of tulle and fluff. The dress too short, the shoes slick and pinchy.

In the last contact with my mother, I heard Carol had breast cancer. I didn't give off the correct note of astonished dismay, apparently. More like an auditory shrug of "well, she smoked heavily..." which did not go over with my mother. Not sure what she expected, smokers getting cancer, for a nurse, is clearly a case of self inflicted injury, sad, but not shocking tragedy.

When I look at these photos, what I mostly see is a kid in a bad situation, and more turmoil ahead. She's on a quiet stretch of the river, on a flimsy raft, with a long line of rapids ahead. The two above, well, in white water, frothing around her.

I can't save her, but I'm waiting on the other side, knowing she will make it this far.

Botches

Lucy's hatbowl reminded me of this image.



This bit of animation from Rocky&Bullwinkle begins with lightning, the earth cracking open, and our heroes falling through, then pushing back up through mud and rocks until they come up with the flowers.

Weird little episode for a children's cartoon. But then, it never was aimed down at kids. Not with all the jokes only adults would get, for a start. I think they made what they liked, and let the youngsters in too. They Might Be Giants do exactly this in their children's albums, which is why they appeal to any age.

Which seems to me best policy. Not segregating by age, no contempt, avoiding dumbing down, layering in enough for all. Much as it's important to understand what various ages are capable of, how children process and not expecting more from them than they can do, it's also vital to let high expectations wash over them, let them aspire away. While not hiding the darkness, pretending it doesn't exist. Kids understand terror, they are vulnerable in a world of confusion where they don't entirely speak the language. No one really explains the rules, either.

Adored Uncle Walt for talking to me as if I were an engineer, since some of it stuck. Even if it hadn't, that he assumed my intelligence implied I had value.

The front panel of our oven fell off. I head the initial thump, looked around, didn't see anything. A moment later it dropped to the floor. Thankfully the mat caught it, since if it had hit the tile it might well have shattered. Well, it's probably tempered, so it would have shattered intact. Still.

Just glued on. Which, if there hadn't been a layer of paint between the metal and glass, might have been fine. We suspect a manufacturing botch, since that model is long discontinued. A 2003 date means Previous Owners* bought it when they moved in, so it may have been discontinued and gotten on sale then. The door changed, the bracket - which had screw holes for that panel, probably designed for a panel with metal at the bottom, but they changed it to all glass - which can't be drilled, so it was glued, but no one changed the bracket so that it wouldn't be painted... For some reason, our oven held on for 13 years before it fell off in a tiny cloud of rust and paint chips.

Should be able to glue it back, add little clips on the bottom. I've cleaned the attachment surfaces already, we'll get the proper glue today and hopefully some sort of clip.





*Ppptttuui.

Loge

Front row seat. She may be watching for mice, I saw one the other day on the porch.

Grin

Happy in my work.

Presents

The photo of me with my christmas presents. As the only grandchild in the family, I had rather a haul.

My absolute favorite was the pull toy duck-billed platypus.



The dolls were tolerated, although I despaired of their horrible hair. Short and stiff and pale stuff. But tucked in the pile is a Bugs Bunny jack-in-the-box. Played Pop Goes the Weasel, and I wore that thing out. Bugs' ears would both break off, and I still played it.



Likewise the Jack & Jill music box that looked a bit like a radio with an antenna. Turned the dial to wind it up.



I have no memory of the duck, no idea. Well, why would I with a duck-billed platypus? No contest.

As for the dish set, pastry set and ironing board, they got used in a way. The dishes wound up in the sandbox, as did the cookie cutters I assume. Hated the iron, since I had to iron towels - as a way to teach me to iron. Talk about the opposite of a gift.

Which perhaps shows that trying to shape children through their toys is a pointless exercise. At best.

Smokey

Aunt Evelyn, Uncle Ernie, me, dove, father (cut off.) At Sea World, OH. cira 1972.

The best part of Sea World? The dove cote, doves feeding from my hands. Not impressed by the "show" although the touching real animals was nice, having birds eating from my palms, letting me touch them, memorable.

Thinking that Uncle Ernie must've fallen soon after this, TBI, lost to all of us. Cleaning gutters. Reminds me not to climb ladders at my age, hire help. Much cheaper than a stretch in ICU. Wondering if he'd been there, how much of a father figure he might have been for me. That they had a loving relationship meant worlds, what if he'd not been brain injured? No answers, I wouldn't trade my life now.

His own son, a wealthy banker, his wife a manic smoker, in a chronic pain situation with bad dentistry, who eventually committed suicide, a son who rebelled and had his own issues. No way to see inside families, their twisted bones, their scarred souls. By their fruits shall you know them, but who is the seer to interpret the cracks?



In the Smoky Mountains, holding Smokey the Bear, tightly.

Harsh

Yup. I know what all this is, all it does, and how to use it. Yup.

Long ago, Dylan was in pt for his fractured elbow. He overheard his surgeon ragging on his therapist, who took it in good part and laughed, but Dylan was aghast at what felt like rather harsh and possibly abusive comments, even knowing surgeon respected his therapist. He'd been military, like me, and knew from me that humor in the OR was brutal (if secretly warm and supportive) as well. He'd just never experienced it first hand. Recounting it to me, when I laughed, he knew he'd read it right, felt it wrong, "But even so!"

Yeah, the way the surgeons harass each other is not gentle. A surgeon G, moved his case into surgeon N's second room gap. I was asked by N to ask G if he was out of N's room yet. I did.

"Dr. G, Dr. N wanted me to see if you were out of the room yet..."
Dr. G. "(closes eyes at me)".
I giggle and run out.

Anesthesiologist tells surgeon, "I need bag balm for my nipples, because I'm so sore "feeling myself waiting"!


Dr. B's highest compliment to his residents - "That doesn't suck." Which is exactly what he says of his own work, btw. He's very good at what he does, including patching up botches from other surgeons (esp. podiatrists*.)

Dr. S is still razzed about the time he went to sit on a stool, missed, wound up on his back on the floor, with his hands in the air, like a turtle, shouting "I'm still sterile! I'm still sterile!" Um, no, no you're not.

We trust each other, we test each other, if you can't laugh along you may not belong. Not a soft world, but when you've earned your place, it's yours. With all your faults and oddities.

Having a floor nurse judging this, putting her oar in, unsettled us all. Having a real old† OR nurse, who has our backs, now, is a huge relief. She gets the jokes, and gets what is important, finally.

I love what I do. I love the people who do it with me. If they didn't give me shit, I would think they didn't love me. Apparently, they love me.






*Never let a podiatrist do more than diabetic nail care, callus or nail removal.
†She's not old at all.

Shovel

To continue the photo theme, some of winter. The third is of next year, me holding the snow shovel I wanted so badly the year before when everyone else shoveled. Has "Jack be Nimble" on it, about to leap over a candle. Can only imagine how difficult it was to find a child-sized shovel.


Also, for any of you snowbound out east in the midst of David Snowie.


Found this image, on pantrest, but they wanted me to "signup or log in" which offends me deeply. So, I stole this photo. Looks like the same one I once had.

Grime

Eleanor trying out one of Moby's spots.

Sun drawing cats nigh.
Highlighting neglected dust.
I sweep, not enough.

Smoked

Eleanor showing off serious cutes.

Moby having a drink from the kettle of water.



He was curled up on the stool in the mud room this morning, first time we've seen him do that. He's always been a cat who likes to change it up now and again.


"Leemmeee alone, human. I'm comfortable."

Last week's batch of soup for cats was not a hit, edible but not favored. I'm thinking because it was only chicken, no turkey, no duck gizzards. Got turkey necks today, cooking at the moment. Also came across a turkey drumstick, smoked. Figured I'd give it a go, dismantled it, some to cats, some for my lunch tomorrow. So far, it's a huge hit. Didn't get as much meat as I expected out of it, but enough to be worth the trouble.

Rather salty, which might be why Moby took to the water soon after.

With the icy roads of late, we decided to look into getting tires. Miserable phone call to the local shop of a national chain. The local has always treated me well, so I was perhaps more patient than I ought to have been. Guy had a heavy Spanish/Mexican accent, I did my utmost to be very clear, repeating myself multiple times. Really, I only wanted some advice, discussion and a price, since logging on to their website proved difficult for various reasons. He was coming up with a much higher price than was listed, the communication issue meant I wasn't getting the sort of comparison I needed, so he was going to make an appointment for me to buy these particular tires.

So far, although not what I wanted, it would get me in and I figured I could adjust in person. He tries to take down my information, name, address, city... and therein fell the snag. To mix idioms. He did not understand Salt Lake City. "Lake City... yes, I have it." No, you don't. You know, the city where you are, the store you are in. I asked him twice, if he was not at the local shop, but at a call center, and he eluded, ignored me. The closest I could get was "Something H? Lake City?"

Sssssallllltttttt Lake City! Capitol of Utah, where all the mormons are! Salt, salt and pepper! Salt, salt, SalTTT." Nothing doing. When he tried to recite back my phone number, none of the numerals matched. At this point I said, "Ok, nevermind," and hung up. By then, everything fell in place so I could use the online form, made an appointment.

This morning, still hungover from a harsh twelve hour shift, I couldn't face driving out there in icy rain at 0730, so I cancelled the appointment. Wound up putting air in one tire, which wasn't easy, since the pressure gauge dial faced down, the hose pulled hard away from me, and I wasn't coordinated enough to step on it, and couldn't read the gauge on the hose properly either. You'd think I'd be capable of doing this without extreme frustration and incompetence, but I can't. My hands were frozen and trembling. However. The front tire is better, as is the handling, so I accidentally fixed it enough for now.

We'll go this weekend, in person, to affect a less inadvertent solution.

Did the soup for cats shopping, which took much longer than anticipated, because the cashier at the asian market was hiding, had to get one of the meat guys to hunt her down. She was in the front office, behind the door on her phone. I had breakfast, but by the time I got to the grocery store with the turkey, I was crashing badly. Grabbed an apple on the way, as soon as she rang it up I apologized, and took a bite. Sat in the car a few minutes until the shaky hands settled a bit.

Took a walk after Dylan went to work, brisk and raw, I got out there. The step counter must've gotten pressed, because none of my steps recorded. Bothersome, because I know I need to get into better shape, and that helps me move - getting credit.

Decided to cash in the coins, took the bag and headed over to the coin-counting machine. Takes a percentage, but counting, rolling and getting coins into anyplace that will take them is three more jobs, so I take the hit. Got $27 out, and in the change return, a couple of Bahamian coins! Left by someone else, long gone.




Felt like the world patting me on the back and saying "it's ok, now, just take it easy."

Both cats devouring the smoked turkey cheers me the rest of the way. Moby licks his chops, stares at me, blinks, wanders off. I take that as thanks. It might well be.

Tectonics

Civility is an uphill struggle, civil rights slippery to keep. Sometimes I feel there has been no progress in my lifetime, until one reads history. When at least the laws are not actively working against a particular group, that's a start. Whole lotta backsliding, but then hearing a bunch of gamer/comics dudes bemoaning the sexism in their artform, and meaning it... I withdraw my despair. It's always going to be about keeping evil in check, countering the bullies, day following night. Night following day. Solve one problem, and a dozen more emerge, because each of us carry order and disorder, gentleness and violence. The desire for freedom, right along with the wish to make other people do exactly what we want them* to do.

MLK Day, off since I work for a public institution.

Making a commitment to walk more on my days off, which is why we went to the aviary yesterday, and walked for groceries this morning. (Beef barley soup in the cooker as I write.) Damp and dark, but not grey. A pervasive rain the brings out the darks of meltage, snow still bright in places, calm so not very cold. I didn't even bother to wear hat nor gloves on the way home.

Overcast
40°F
4°C
Humidity 70%
Wind Speed S 13 MPH
Barometer 30.08 in
Dewpoint 31°F (-1°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Wind Chill 32°F (0°C)
Last update 18 Jan 11:20 am MST

Saw a dog last week with a cast on his single back leg, when I had Moby outside for a sit. Wanted to say "your friend looks like he's had a rough time" or some such. But I didn't catch his eye, and held my peace. Today, we ran into Mike & Spike, Mark & Mocha, and three-legged dog with cast and his human. M&S, M&M already saying hi, so we stopped as well, and were introduced to Banksey. Sweet lab-mix, I scritched his shoulders and behind his ears as we talked, felt the lean in, and his tail wagged. His human was so happy to see Banksey happy, as he'd been a bit down lately. Didn't ask what had happened, just petted dog a while and sympathized. Identified ourselves as the sunflower/piled rock people, which worked.



Of course, they'll all need re-piling in the spring, a creative opportunity.

The snow holding in the moisture. The leaves nourishing the disrupted soil. Neighbors late taking their tree out. Saw the city leave a note on their recycle bin that seemed to indicate their would be no more tree pick up. So, I brought in their bin and snitched the tree. I'll use it for mulch. Thinking it might be good around the strawberry planter to keep the snails away. Soft underfoot at any rate.



Nothing lasts, not good not bad, it's all moving and shifting as we do our best to keep our balance on sliding plates under shaky continents. Mixing it up, ringing the changes, turning the compost.



*For instance.