I am, um, Sparta?

I know. I dropped off the face of the Earth. But I'm back, now, with stories to tell!
I've been working on books, books and more books. I've been gardening. I've been reading. I've been cooking. And, I've begun training.
We're talking some seriously wussy training, here. What am I training for? The Washougal Spartan Race. We just had one, and my friend J. has talked me and my DH into going for it next year.
So what's a Spartan Race? It's a medium (3-6 mile, depending on the course) length run sprinkled liberally with obstacles like a transverse wall, a rope to climb where you have to ring the bell at the top, moats, crawls under barbed wire over a steep, muddy hill, and so on. The idea is to crush the spirit challenge the participants to the limit, and the main goal is to finish the race, although there are folks who are super serious about this and race to win. Those people are in crazy-awesome shape. They are the cross fittest of the fit.
That would not be me. Hence, my training in a pitiful way, though I intend to increase the difficulty of my training days as the year wears on.
My training-thing for today was walking a few miles (I really don't know how many. Let's call it some miles) up a hill to scope out potential trails upon which to train. There's water, steep climb/crawls, bridges, and all kinds of other things where I can attempt to prepare myself for a race that can take up to two hours (or more) to complete. Best time on a recent course in Washougal: 35 minutes.
I've also trotted a few hundred yards through knee-deep water, and I'm taking my attempted chin-ups more seriously.
363 days to go.
I'm so doomed. But it'll be fun!

Life: A Rant

I'm on antibiotics twice a day for five days. My lack of joy is so un-exuberant I can't find the words to express it. But, I'm grateful. Grateful for antibiotics. Without them I'd be quite the misery muffin. No worries out there, it's nothing serious. With medical care, this is no big deal. Without medical care, it may have been a whole different story.

With antibiotics, however, come certain side effects. It's only day two and my stomach is already preparing to go on strike. Yogurt is the best medicine for it. I hope the stuff in the fridge is still good, because it's on my to-nom list.

Medicine for medicine. It seems that's how the world goes 'round.

I have this worry about the world, especially the western world. Worries are useless, you do realize. Worrying does nothing. Worrying is that thing people do when they're helpless to do anything about something. Waiting for their kids to come home from a date. Watching international negotiations over nuclear weapons. Reading reports about searches for plane debris.

I worry about medication use. Overuse of antibiotics has gotten a lot of publicity, and I think most people paying the least bit of attention understand that they shouldn't take antibiotics without a positive diagnosis of a bacterial infection (not viral! antibiotics don't help with viral infections) and then, if they do end up on antibiotics, they must be very faithful about taking every dose exactly on time so that there's less of a chance of bugaboos surviving through weak or incomplete dosage regimens. Those survivor bugs have a chance of becoming an antibiotic-resistant strain, and those are very, very bad news.

But that's not what I worry about the most. What I worry about the most is the entire pharmaceutical mentality, most especially in the United States. I think it's linked to the litigation-happy society Americans live in . For example: I recently delivered a bookshelf to a woman's car. While she lowered the back seat to make room, she made the comment that the first time she lowered the seat, it just about knocked her out, and that the manufacturer was crazy because 'someone's child could be hurt and then they'll have a lawsuit on their hands.' First of all, I think it's been so long since she's had any kind of conk to the head (if she ever has) that she probably has no idea about what it feels like to actually be 'almost knocked out'. I'm sure it was very unpleasant. She may have even fallen and whacked her elbow and/or knees in the process. It may have even been the fault of the seat. But I strongly feel that the world is not a safe place and not everything in the universe must be turned into a Disneyland version of a functional device to limit the manufacturers' liability claims. Don't take away my sicklebar mower because it might mow a child's feet off. That's on me. My responsibility to make sure my child is under control enough to keep them safe. And if they do run in front of the mower, or release the seat catch and get smooshed (harmlessly, most likely) by the seat and cry, that's called an accident (fueled by the child's inexperience and lack of understanding). That is not the fault of the car manufacturer or the sicklebar mower. Period.

In court, the jury has this whole concept of 'reasonable' to look at in multiple ways. Reasonable doubt. What a reasonable person in a similar situation would do. Where is the reasonable-ness in safety? Putting poison on or into toys is unreasonable. Being forced to create a so-called child-proof latch and/or a super-slow release hinge to spare clumsy or inattentive people a bit of a padded blow to the noggin is not reasonable. I'm sick to death of such things. If people got hurt more often, they'd be less likely to get killed doing something stupid. Think about that. Pain is a great teacher. Without it, we quickly become oblivious, bumbling idiots bouncing from lucky encounter to lucky close call until we blunder in front of a bus and end up under it. And the bus driver is taken to court.

It's the same with medications. So many medications attempt to make people feel normal, happy, and completely well. There seems to be no allowance for the idea that if you're sick, injured, or otherwise damaged, you will be in pain and you won't function as well as someone who isn't sick, injured or otherwise damaged. I'm not saying make people suffer when they don't have to. But this impossible goal, and the extensive medicating that happens in an effort to reach that goal, is expensive and insane.

A lot of people I know are resistant to taking any kind of medication. I think that's a good thing. The body is remarkable and it does a better job of fixing most things than pharmaceuticals could ever hope to do. I don't think it's doctors. This seems to be driven by the patients and their expectations. Not only of what medication can do for them, but what they themselves have to do and/or live with.

The doing is the hardest part. So many people come to the store and park in the handicapped parking space when they can function so much better than Gary, victim of a massive car accident that permanently damaged his short-term memory abilities, and barely gives him the ability to hobble with the use of a cane through the store. He fights for every step. He'll never get any better, but do you know what? He won't get weaker and weaker and weaker as his remaining muscles atrophy because that amazing bastard fights to keep what he has. And it's hard. And it hurts. And it's no fun. And yes, people who haven't been in an accident, or who are old, or who have cancer do not have it as easy as people who are young and in perfect health. I want those handicapped spaces there, especially for those really, really bad days when it's a struggle just to get out of bed, but damnit, they need a can of soup and some bread and they're going to rally and shop. That fighting spirit leaves me in awe. It doesn't have to be exceptional. So many sunsets are breathtaking ... and normal. That's what human life should be like. The miracle of a garden in springtime is created through the battle for space, light, moisture and nutrients by every plant that sprouts there.

I don't know what's going on with a given person. I do my best not to judge those who do whatever they do on a given day, because I don't know them or what they're going through. Yet, over time, patterns emerge. The woman who claims to be in too much pain to pick up something off the bottom shelf at the store, but runs, waving her arms, screaming at someone because they parked in the handicapped spot and they don't look like they need it. Seriously.

Seriously.

What risks, and what pain and suffering can we live with, if we truly understand that it's not the destination, but the journey itself that makes us strong and makes the world a beautiful and wonderful place? What if everyone understood that feeling healthy is a gift, and that feeling awful is normal. That's right, normal. It doesn't always need to be fixed. A lot of times it can't be fixed, and the mitigation is worse than the symptoms not just because a medication makes you feel dull but because you stop fighting and let something else take control. Sometimes, not always but sometimes, illness just has to be battled in our own bodies on our own if we ever have a hope of coming out the other side as free beings. How less screwed up would our society be if people admitted that yes, this sucks, but you're not alone or abnormal in some way? Stop Googling new treatments for your friend's disease and f***ing appreciate the time you have with them and encourage them to keep fighting. Because it's exhausting, and sometimes the best medicine is to vent, or go to the movies, or to have a cheerleader hold your hand to get through the really, really bad stuff. Read the book Gimp sometime. Or The Fault in Our Stars. Fight. Live. Not to be normal. Just, to be all that you can, and to attempt to achieve what you want most to achieve. There are no guarantees, no promises, no happy endings, but that's ....

Life.

Weight and Self-Image, Part 2

There's a lot of fantastic stuff in the comments in the last post. I'd like to continue thinking out loud in an actual post rather than writing vast blocks of text in the comments. I tried to be succinct, but I got carried away, so, here we go.

During a writing course, one of the things the instructors hammered home is the idea that most writers can't hear positive things about their work. Even when they do hear it, they often dismiss praise. I was taught in the class to write any praise I receive down and study that part of my writing *more* than the negative. The aim is to reproduce success rather than try to eliminate failure.

I try to extend this to the rest of my life, too. I try to hear praise like Rory gives, and see myself how he sees me. That way I keep fighting to 'stay in shape' or to work on physical goals that have some other payoff than a number, like to be able to run a certain distance, achieve balance in a yoga position or be able to stand on my hands. I think that's healthier than 'get in shape,' which doesn't work from a premise that I'm okay where I'm at too. I also try to avoid aiming for a certain number of pounds (up or down, thank you Regolith for reminding me that some people think they're too thin), or to 'look good in a bikini' – I have to repeat over and over that Rory likes the way I look in a bikini right now, rather than listen to the self-revulsion of the thought of myself in a bikini (or LBD, or whatever.) And if he didn't like the way I looked in a bikini, why in the world would I strive to try to look good in one? As if that would make him love me more ....

I'm sure he'd be pleased if I had the flexibility of a gymnast and less excess in certain areas, but he's not unhappy with where I'm at right this second, either. I don't have to do a damned thing if I don't want to, and that places the things I do in the arena of my choice for my own purposes, rather than trying to satisfy some idea of what I think he might want me to look like instead of the way I look right now. My DH has the power to make me feel overweight, underweight, ugly, old ... and he has more power in my mind than society. He's not just my friend and lover and husband, but an ally in my mind when I battle self-image monsters.

If I remember to listen to his loving words, hear them, and believe them.

If he wasn't an ally, well, why would I listen to him? But that's a whole 'nother post about relationships.

It's still there, of course, the self-talk that emphasizes the negative. And it's tricky. Working from this paradigm seems to say, be happy with yourself the way you are, The End, and that's not a concept anyone will buy, for sensible reasons. We don't want to lose our drive to constantly learn, improve, to grow. If we're satisfied with the way everything is, from the state of the housekeeping to the mechanical soundness of our vehicles, what's going to motivate us to get off the couch?

But that's not what being happy with yourself actually does. Time moves on. We can be happy with the mechanical soundness of a vehicle, but it's going to need an oil change in X number of miles, and tires need to be rotated or replaced entirely, and inevitably there will be a crack in the windshield bad enough that a new windshield will be required, etc. I can love my car as it is, but I still need to take care of it.

I love my car, therefore I take care of it. If I'm okay (see, I can't even say if I love myself–ugh) with myself, that doesn't mean I stop doing all the things I always do. Nor does it mean I'll lose all motivation to try new things, or to get better. I will paint that old pick up truck, not because I don't love it the way it is (and I really do! Scratches and all!) but because I do love it. I want to play with it. I want to express my love for my truck by turning it into an art project, and of course I want to maintain it too so that it runs as long as possible. Would I fuss with the truck if I didn't love it? Of course not. I would let it languish or ignore it.

So if I didn't love myself, would I be motivated to take good care of myself? Would I only take care of myself because I'm supposed to, or because there's a tiny hope that if I take care of myself maybe in some distant future I'll be lovable? That's working from a place of pain and despair. That's less motivation, not more. And some people, because they don't love themselves, let themselves die or even speed their deaths.

Self-love also seems to mean vanity, arrogance, hubris, and other nasty things that we can safely agree are bad. I love Steve Barnes' approach, though I have to say this is my read on it and may not be his actual words or thoughts. We've known each other a few years, so what he's written and taught are tangled up with my own thoughts. Anyway, one of the lessons I've learned from Steve on this subject strips away all the bullshit, negative, backward-thinking societally-reinforced garbage we allow to rot in our minds.

Most people want to nurture children, love their friends, etc. If you saw yourself as a child, would you want to protect that child? If your friend was in pain, would you want to comfort your friend? If your favorite cousin needed help to survive, would you give it? So, assuming you say yes to these things, and assuming you consider this a positive aspect of yourself, can you see your self as your own child, your own friend, your own favorite cousin who you love? Sometimes I picture myself as a little girl and give her a big hug and tell her I haven't forgotten her, and that I love her. That's easier for me and reaches deeper than looking in the mirror. In the mirror, the whole world seems to see my flaws along with me through my own eyes. But when I picture my child self, the little blond, fragile, creative, loving, sensitive, horse-adoring, kitten-nurturing non-stop reader who loved playing by the water and building miniature architectural wonders with child-made ponds and rivers, I adore her with all my being and if the world wanted to hurt her I would destroy the world to save her.

Is it a trick of the mind? I don't think so. Looking back, there are things that hurt so bad and I wish I could go back and tell her that she's loved. So I do. I go back and hold her and tell her it's all right, I'm there for her. I'm her friend and ally, her mother and sister, her dragon if need be to fight her monsters and turn them into bits of charcoal. I don't want her to be so sheltered that she never grows up and never becomes strong, but by the blessed world she deserves to know she's loved and that she's not alone!

It's harder, maybe too hard, to extend these feelings to my grown self. I don't know if there's value in trying, when there's so much power in embracing the child within and honoring her. It's hard to see myself as Rory sees me, but I don't know if there's value in that either, when there's so much strength and joy in not just hearing the words, but accepting his love.

So that's where I'm at. By hearing and accepting praise, we let ourselves be loved, and can love ourselves. If we love ourselves, we're more likely to take care of ourselves, nurture ourselves, and grow. We can't always be stronger, or wiser, or more beautiful. Disease, age, genetics and all kinds of other stuff stand in the way. But the only thing that stands in the way of accepting love, loving ourselves and taking the best care of ourselves that we can is ourselves. I see nothing to be gained with self-loathing, and everything to be gained by being a friend to myself and help myself achieve my goals.

Maybe someday it'll be easier to do that. Even now, after all I've written and knowing it's true, it's hard to accept that liking myself isn't narcissistic horror. And maybe that's a check-and-balance within ourselves, to keep from become self-centered monsters that don't give a crud about anyone or anything else. But negativity and self-doubt should be just that, a thing to help keep balance, not the only thing in our minds. Ever.

Weight and Self-Image

I've been putting off writing about this for a long time, because I don't like to write about my more unattractive personality traits, no matter how human and normal they might be. But someone's gotta do it, damn it. If no one ever wrote about unpleasant things, nothing real would ever get said. In part I've been inspired by The Divided Mind by John E. Sarno, M.D., in particular a part where he talked about one of his own episodes with psychosomatic illness. He developed symptoms while on vacation with his wife (you'll have to read the book to find out what kind) and he had to admit that he resented taking her on vacation before the symptoms would let up. As he said in his book, this wasn't a very nice thing to have to admit, and he didn't like that about himself at all. It made him feel like a horrible person. That's the awesome and scary power of the unconscious. Sometimes it's easier on our egos to feel physically ill or cripple ourselves than admit that part of us is whiny and selfish, or whatever else might be going on. When I'm done with this book I'm going to check out some of his other ones. They sound fascinating.

Anyway, I've been fighting with my weight most of my life, even when I was skinny. I just didn't know I was skinny at the time. That tells me that I don't see myself very clearly. It makes it extremely difficult to know where I'm at. I can't look in the mirror and say hey, I'm huge or hey, I'm looking pretty good right now. I have a very athletic body and so I weigh a lot more than other people my height. Although I use the scales, it's better for me to use a tape measure around my waist and my pant size to gauge where I'm at. So, at 5'6", I'm about 175 pounds (right now less, two weeks ago I was a bit over) and wear a size 14. I know of very few women who are my height and weight that weigh as much as I do. So, there's the visual distortion, there's the weight wackiness (I feel ponderous whenever I look at the number on the scale), my intellectual goals which want me to be at a healthy weight where I can do all the stuff I like to do without hurting myself, my rational goal of maximizing my longevity and quality of life, and my not-very-subconscious goal of looking great and feminine and sleek (sleek's not going to happen with my shoulders. Just sayin'.)

Most of the time I'm okay with my size, and I'm strong and I have decent endurance though more cardio training is always good. I haven't done that in a long time now. Months.

Here's the ugly part, the things I don't like to admit.

Somewhat big doesn't trigger this–I grew up with a family where some members were perpetually round and I have some wonderful friends who are round that I consider healthy. But I'll see someone really big and the wow, how the hells, why the hells start going around in my head. I'm instantly ashamed of myself. And then I often imagine what it would be like to be that big, and to see that in other people's eyes every time they look at me, and I think, crap, I might never leave the house.

I have days when I want to do nothing but sweat so I don't have to face the scale at a given weight. I get really twitchy when I start to approach my pregnant weight. At the 175 mark I'm within five pounds of that. Maybe ten, if I'm generous with myself. 180 is the number in my head, but I think I went over that slightly when I was pregnant.

Pregnant. I'm almost as heavy as I was when I was pregnant with my first born child, with no child in my body. That slays my hopes and dreams and desires to be that super-fit grandma I might become someday if I'm lucky, the one who charges up and down mountainsides and goes skiing and fishing and all the things my mom does and other older women I admire do.

And now that I've said those things about my weight, I'm scared that someone I love and care about will think damn, if Kami thinks that's heavy, what does she think of me? I fear I'll hurt someone who has the same or worse self-image problems that I do, or that they'll hate me for thinking these things when they believe that I've got it good compared to them or whatever, and I start to make myself crazy and fearful.

So add to this mix of emotions that make me loathe myself, I have people I love that can't do all those things and I see them as beautiful and strong. One of them is very ill and believes they look fat. They don't. In my eyes, that person is thinner than I am. And that person probably is. I bet if we adjust for height and everything, that person is slimmer than I am. But that person doesn't see themselves that way, because that person's self-image is all messed up. Just like mine.

So I see someone super-heavy by my internal scale, and I try not to stare and try not to think the awful thoughts that I always do about how someone can 'let themselves go' and I think about myself and think, like I have room to talk, I have rolls like the Michelin Man, (but hey, my arms are totally like that, so, bonus!) and I go into a death spiral of shame and self-loathing and pity for the other person and I have this desire to try to help and encourage them. How awful is that, on top of everything else.

I'm ashamed to admit that I have the nerve to want to encourage and help someone who doesn't know me and would find it incredibly intrusive and arrogant and horrible to have a stranger try to be supportive about something so personal, when they have absolutely no knowledge about what I've done and been doing or not doing about my weight. I have my decisions to make and no one can make them for me. Our friends can keep us going, but a stranger has no business butting in. Just because someone is a certain size, or has twins, or moves with the aid of a wheelchair or whatever does not make them public property to ooo and aahh and approach with praise or sympathy or whatever. And yet people do this. And I think it.

Is social pressure to change our bodies all bad? I don't think so. Some social pressure is good. Social pressure reminds us to not be jerks, and helps motivate some of our other better natures including picking up trash, volunteering, etc. It's not the entirety of a given behavior (at least I don't think that people do everything just to please others and fit in) but it can be a valuable piece of a motivational spectrum to help get me off my butt. But some social pressure motivates people to distort their natural beauty, to carve up their faces and bodies until they don't look like themselves anymore, or to become housebound because they can't bear the stares. And some of that social pressure is entirely imaginary, about what I think people see when they look at me, versus what they really see. Some of that social pressure is distorted by a culture that is itself distorted (think the scary-thin models) and some social pressure is motivated by cruelty and our less-attractive selves. I don't like that part of me that stares at huge people, but others revel in it, laugh, make awful comments, and use weight as license to demean people and think less of them. I'm not sure that my desire to help overweight people become healthier is any better than the people that make fun of them. It's just as intrusive, but in the opposite direction.

There's nowhere I can take this. Society is what it is, I am who I am, and people are who they are. I just wanted to write about this because I'm a talker and a writer and I feel compelled to get this stuff out of my head and into the light. I think it's important to poke at this stuff, figure it out, and then do something positive if at all possible. I don't expect to change the world, or make people be nicer to each other. But maybe I can start a dialogue (or monologue.) This stuff has all been discussed before by others, but maybe not by all my readers, so, here you go. You've got thoughts in your head. What are you going to do with your thoughts, if anything? They're yours to keep, or to share, whatever you want or dare to do. If they're not what you want them to be and you're willing to fight to change them, I'll be here, silently cheering you on. I wouldn't dare actually cheer you on unless you asked me to, because ... well, you've read this far, so you know.

I'm scared to butt in where I'm not wanted.

I almost deleted this post. I don't know what it means that I didn't, and I don't know what it means that I put it up despite my qualms. I just hope that getting the thoughts out of my head will help someone or something someday.

The Voices, They Are Stupid

I've been working out again. As always, I've rediscovered that it's absolutely true that you end up with more energy, not less, when you work out on a regular basis.

And the voices in my head--man, they know just what to say. What's with that? Everything from a whining "I don't wanna!" to "I really don't have time to work out" to "It's my day off, I don't want to spend my day off at the gym," and everything in-between. A stupid one yesterday: "It's almost lunchtime, so I'll be hungry by the time I get there, and if I go work out now then I'll have a really late lunch if I have one at all, and if I eat before I'll be too full to work out."  Really? As if I'm afraid of being hungry for an hour or two. Anyone who's seen me knows that I'm in no danger of starvation any time soon.

The voices in my head have no logic. That's probably a good thing, otherwise I might cave in to them (more often).

The voices in my head are not who I am, nor are the voices in anyone's head who any of us really are. They are, generally speaking (at least in my case) a vocal minority expressing my fears that goad me into laziness, and are mainly concerned with maintaining my comfort level. That includes my success or lack thereof. To these voices, success is scary. It's not just fear of failure, which these voices also have. What if I succeed? Then (OMG) people might see me, might notice, and that puts me in danger. What kind of danger, the voices can't really specify other than a vague unease and the notion that people will mock me if they, for example, read my books. Regardless of what might or might not happen, it's change and we're safe right now without the change. We're safe and nothing bad is happening and if there's change then there's all this bad stuff that might happen.

What bad stuff, they can't always delineate. Even if they did, it probably wouldn't make much sense. (See previous mention of the lunch logic.)

The main leverage that the voices have is that I've been embarrassed and I've failed and I've struggled, and just thinking about some of those moments makes my gut knot up tight. So their vague threats do have teeth. Take, for example, my garden. I've spent a lot of money and time and effort on my veggie garden. Last year, I had almost nothing to show for it. The deer ate my tomato plants and most of the broccoli. They even ate the zucchini plants. The thought of all that loss makes me feel horrible. I wasted money, and I ended up looking stupid. The time spent I don't mind so much--I love gardening, and it keeps me in shape. Still ...  And I have this project where I'm going to fence the whole darned thing in to keep the deer out. In fact, I'm going to work on it today. So why am I here, typing (and playing Bejeweled) when I should dash out there right now and get to work?

Because of the voices. And when I press them past the "I don't wanna, it's my day off and it's cold and dreary outside" (although the sun is peeking out right now, yay!!) the best that they can come up with is "what if you don't have enough materials to finish and we can't afford to buy new and if you buy stuff we'll be short and lose the house or worse, what if you finish and the deer still get in and then we'll have lost the house and we'll be starving for nothing or worst of all, what if the deer stay out and the garden still fails? Then you'll be a gardening total failure because you can't even blame the deer and we'll have no food and no house and we'll all die and it's all your fault and your husband and kids won't blame you because they're so nice but you'll see their large, tear-filled eyes and know you are to blame for their total destruction."

This is, seriously, the best the voices can do.

Why do I listen to them? Why do any of us listen to the voices in our heads?

Right now I can't think of a damned reason why. I'm going to go out and work on my garden. Type atch'y'all next time!

An Observation by Captain Obvious

More simple food:

When I'm not being lazy, I take lunch to work.  I was lazy for a long time, and I put on a lot of weight.  I didn't make the connection simply because my body's default is to gain weight regardless of what's going on.  Weekend off?  Weight gain.  Working seven days in a row?  Weight gain.  Visiting relatives, taking the animals to the vet for boosters, reading about food ... yep.  Weight gain.  I even gain weight when I start a new workout regimen.  For real.  (There's actually an explanation for that--I put on muscle much faster than I lose fat.  I have my father's super-athlete genes, and it's a good thing.  Once the muscle is on, assuming that I keep on working out, I burn fat faster at that point.)

Anyway, I just assumed I was gaining weight because I changed shampoos or something.  But it turns out it was the soup I had at lunch every day.  I tried to pick the lower calorie ones, and I always bought the smallest bowl.

Well, ladies and gents, I started bringing homemade soup to work and voila!  Weight loss.  I doubt that my soups have fewer calories than the store ones.  But they don't have a ton of salt, or added sugar, or any preservatives except what is found in the one tiny bouillon cube I put in.

Most people would probably find my soup gross, but here's the recipe anyway.  It's tasty enough (to me) that I can eat it every day.

A couple handfuls of frozen normandy mix veggies (less if you buy the veggie mixes with smaller chunks--I use the Kirkland brand which has big pieces.)

2-ish cups of water -- please don't measure.  Have some pride!  Eyeball what's going to fit in your soup bowl with all the veggies figured in and go with that.  The veggies don't have to be covered.

2-3 medium or large frozen ravioli--I like spinach and cheese.  Use more if they're small.

Dill to taste

Garlic to taste

Salt to taste (watch out! the bouillon cube has lots.  I use a small pinch)

1 bouillon cube (I favor chicken)

Put in the water, cube, veggies and seasonings and let it heat up a bit.  A few minutes later (mine usually hasn't started to boil yet) add the frozen ravioli.  

I top it with cottage cheese.  Seriously.  That's the part that my family and coworkers think is gross, but it is awesome.  The effect is similar to tortilla soup where they put in cheese and sour cream.  Same flavor family.

Regardless of what you eat, I think if it's more or less fresh and more or less homemade, you'll be better off.  You have to know that when they make soups and stuff in a factory setting, they watch the quality but they'll throw in stuff that's 'good enough' that you might, given your own choice, toss out.  Cooking my own food gives me lots more control over what I eat.  It makes my inner control freak very happy, happy enough that one of these days I really ought to try making big batches of chicken broth for the freezer so I don't have to rely on the bouillon cube thingy.  It's tasty, but I have to not think about what quality of chicken (and what parts) they used to make it.  Ick!

Medicine

A lot has happened in the past week, and some of it has been terrible stuff.

I hate to write about it because I don't want to attract sympathy, and I certainly don't want to cause my family additional pain.  But I think I need to write about one of the things because it might save someone some pain and agony.

A relative of mine passed away suddenly.  She'd written off doctors a long time ago ...  

I'm so sad for her family and closest friends.  And I fear there are thousands of people out there who are going to die from treatable, even preventable illnesses because they have a thing against regular doctors.  There are so many people who have no choice at all, and wish they had access to a medical doctor.  It might seem like madness to them to reject water from a pump when you're dying of thirst because you refuse to drink from anything other than a stream.

I have to be okay with it, though.  People have to make their own choices, and it may be that my aunt was willing to die this way rather than see a doctor.  I have to honor that choice, because it is her choice, and I wouldn't want to take that away from anyone.  In the end it was her body to do with as she wished to do.

Having said that ....

I'm well aware of a doctor's limitations, and the dangers of going to a hospital.  You can come out more ill than what you came in with.  I don't think going to the doctor should be done frequently, or lightly.  On the other hand I think it's foolish to refuse things like antibiotics or blood pressure medication or insulin when it might save your life, and it seems very strange to me to take these things without a prescription on your own by borrowing someone else's medicine or getting it on the black market or making it from scratch on your own, as if that makes it better.  

I believe that real naturopathic medicine can be extremely effective, but it's not the only way, or even the best way in a given circumstance.  And I believe that there's a lot of misinformation and delusion in regard to naturopathic medicine out there.  There are bad doctors too, I know.  But clearly, avoiding all doctors to avoid the bad ones is not a path toward superior health.

I hope my aunt lived happily and well and fully, and my heart is with her immediate family.  They all did what they thought was best, and I refuse to point fingers and blame and be angry.  This isn't about me anyway.

What I don't want to see are people convinced that their chosen alternative form of medicine is the only and best option, and that things would have come out far worse if they'd seen a doctor.  If they choose to limit themselves, I hope they do so accepting the fact that it is a limitation in some situations.  Limits can be good, and honestly we're all going to die anyway, so I'd just soon people live the way they want--as long as it really is a choice, and not delusion.  Because, we all know deep down, that living naturally doesn't make us immortal, or better, or cleaner.  And a long, healthy life isn't truly natural.  It's a combination of luck, and resources, and wisdom, and genetics, and ... medicine.

I urge everyone to make these choices in an informed way, and to really study all aspects of their health and well-being from a variety of sources.  Health is one of those incredibly valuable things that many people take for granted, and not always in the way that you'd think.  Ill health can be taken for granted just as easily as good health.  Health is not obvious, or automatic ... it's a gift.  May it be yours to hold and keep as long as possible.

Accomplishment

I was watching "Pride and Prejudice" (the newer version) again.  Caroline asks if Elizabeth wants to take a turn about the room.  They'd been talking about accomplished young women, and Lizzie noted that "And it is a small kind of accomplishment, I suppose." (To take a turn about the room after sitting for a long time.)

To someone like Lizzie, who loves walking and walks everywhere, taking a turn around the room has got to seem silly.  To Caroline it's a ploy.  But thinking about accomplishments in general ...

For someone in really poor health, just standing up is really difficult, if not impossible.  People in really good health look down on this kind of thing all the time.  They say things like, how could someone let themselves get that bad, and so on.  This attitude provides a very handy excuse to not even try.  It's too late, there's no point, I'll never be healthy (which may be true for some--but this is where self-honesty has to be at it's best.  Is there a diagnosis, or a mental block?  Can you and your doctor work as a team to get you better, if not all the way to prime health for your age?)  If I try, I'll just look stupid.  I am healthy, I'm just big-boned.  I should be able to look any way I want, be any way I want, and people shouldn't judge me (which is true, except it shouldn't be an excuse to give up unless there's a medical reason for the situation.)  I'm truly happier this way.  (Which is great!  As long as it isn't a lie--you shouldn't be ashamed to have your picture taken or be afraid to look in the mirror, right?)  Healthy people are born that way, they're lucky.  My genes are against me.  

For the record, my genes are waaaay against me.  My grandmother has struggled against her weight all her life, and lost--she's much too heavy, although she's got low blood pressure and is still able to get around, thank goodness.  My mother has struggled against her weight all her life, and won--thanks to cooking for herself and staying active.  My paternal grandmother died of her obesity.  My father was in excellent health when he died, but he did old-school calisthenics every morning and enjoyed camping, skiing, waterskiing, and gardening.  His father is terribly overweight and a couch potato, literally waiting to die, alone.  My sister was in great shape most of her life, but then her hips began to crumble apart and she was unable to exercise.  The weight packed on.  Now, overweight and with high blood pressure, she's healing from a hip reconstruction surgery (just on one side, the other is still bad but now she can compensate) and she can't wait to get back into shape again.  She's already made huge strides in that direction.

I've struggled against my weight all my life.  When I got pregnant, the pounds ballooned and I felt what it was like to be heavy.  My doctor warned me I was gaining weight way too fast.  I flirted at the verge of gestational diabetes.  At the end of my term I was ginormous--and of course, after the baby was born, I didn't return to my pre-pregnancy weight since I put on way more than breast-feeding and looking after a newborn naturally takes away.  It's not easy for anyone, and it wasn't easy for me.  But I lost the weight again, and after being at a stable weight for many years (give or take five pounds) I'm once again working to get my weight down and my ability to do fun stuff for as long as I want up.  I don't work hard to look like Jillian Michaels.  I work hard to look like a better me.  I have the chance to improve myself every day.  I'm taking that chance today.  I plan on taking that chance again tomorrow.

It's a small sort of accomplishment to walk around the garden every non-rainy day (and some rainy ones too.)  But it's something.  It's a small sort of accomplishment to write for fifteen minutes.  All these small things can be compared to the people who run five miles every morning before work, or write eight hours, or climb Mt. Everest, and of course they come up short.  Unless you're an astronaut, comparing yourself to an astronaut and deciding you'll never reach that high serves no purpose.

There's no need to compare ourselves to anyone else in order to strive.  Strive to do something more than you already do, something important to you (as opposed to what someone has told you ought to be important--just because I'm focused on my weight right now, that doesn't mean I'm pointing at you and your weight!)  Over time, these small accomplishments build into ones we can be proud of.  One day, no, one minute at a time.

Radcon, Pt. the 1st

We arrived on Thursday and had Chinese with long lost pals and new acquaintances.  The thing about small, isolated towns (as opposed to small towns near major cities like my small town) is that lack of competition drags down expectations to the point where service industries don't have to deliver.  The food was really lackluster, but it turned out that it would be one of the better meals I had all weekend.  The company made up for the mediocrity of the cuisine in spades.  David Levine, C.S. Cole, Sara Mueller, Camille Alexa (or was that the night she decided to stay in the room and make sweet love to her computer?) and the wonderful young lady who studied paleontology [edit--Felicity Shoulders! thx Camille] and whose name is escaping me so I'm all aggravated at myself for being crummy with names and at least one other person.  Help meeeeeee .....

If any of you are reading this and concerned about being seen with me in public, let me know and I'll ahem ahem your name on this list.  Ditto with links or lack of links.

Also, bear in mind I'm forgetful, not ungrateful and uncaring so if I miss anyone it's because my brain is more like a food processor than a sponge--though I find the output edible, I'm aware that it doesn't always have much to do with what went into it.

I touched base with Rick Lindsley about some things Reno 2011 bid party and then set about (Thursday is blending into Friday, in case you didn't notice) prepping for my weekend as a panelist.  I had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast (all by my lonely,) which wasn't as hot as I like (this would be an ongoing theme) but was better than the (shudder) breakfast buffet I tried and failed on Sunday.  

Then it was off to the radiation tour with Jay Ake (this was a typo on the Radcon guest list that we carried forward much of the weekend,) scalettina, casacorona, David Levine and a whole bunch of other really excellent people.  We stopped by the Atomic pub, where I had a huge bowl of atomic potato soup and a nice, fresh salad with atomic dressing.  Although the service was slow, this was the best food I had all weekend.  (Jay and I aren't in the photo.  Notice Radcon Bob just inside the door about to leap through the glass onto Janna and Jen.)

The rooms where they measure radiation in the human body are amazing.  I won't go into too much detail, because that would be a long post, but essentially they have to filter out as much background radiation as possible in order to pick up the most minute amount of radiation inside the body.  They do this through a series of shields that include copper and sections of armored hull from the battleship Indiana, which was put together prior to nuclear testing and therefore had very little radioactivity of its own.  Radiation, once absorbed by the body, doesn't emit much measurable energy, so the equipment they have to use requires amazing sensitivity.  They employ crystals cooled by liquid nitrogen and vacuum sealed with a boron lens over the sensor opening.  If I remember right.  Ahem.  Scans take anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour or more.  We looked at a whole body scan bed, and a more sensitive detector that employed a chair and focused on the chest/lungs area.  Most radiation that is harmful to a person doesn't go through the skin--if it can do that, it just pops out the other side.  Harmful radiation is usually swallowed or breathed, so the lungs are a natural focus.  They also test feces and urine, though it's not expected that much would show up unless it was right after an incident or after a meal of elk/deer/reindeer that have eaten radioactive lichens (which are still radioactive even though there hasn't been testing in the area for many, many years thanks to how they interact with exposed rocks.)

This very sensitive equipment requires careful calibration.  To that end, people have donated their bodies to science.  (Thank you, and thanks to their families from a grateful recipient of modern medicine and other science.)  Half of the bodies must be destructively tested to determine the exact amount of radiation, usually just in the bone part. 

 The amount of radiation they release (and therefore reduce in overall emissions) is tiny over hundreds of years, so they won't need a constant influx of 'fresh' cadavers that have been exposed to radiation during life.  As a side note, it's very difficult to ship radioactive human remains, but since they're so hard to come by and it requires so much time and careful energy by very skilled people to measure and define what they have, it's worth the six or more weeks it takes to get permission to transport them to other facilities all over the world that also have equipment that needs calibration.  This particular piece is half of a gentleman's head (the other half was destructively tested, remember) that is covered by specially developed and also extensively tested plastic that exactly duplicates the rest of a person's head--the other half of the skull, all the brains, muscle, tendons, etc.  The amount of art and science that goes into one of these is remarkable, and sobering.  It's also incredibly valuable, priceless in fact.  I came away from the tour with immense respect for this facility and its workers. 

My one and only panel on Friday was at 6pm, Healing Beyond Medicine with Laurel Anne Hill and Manny Frishburg.  I've paneled with Laurel before and we always have a great time.  I thought it would be this debate with me and Laurel vs. the woo woo but it turned out that Manny had a serious background in medicine and was therefore also a skeptic balanced well with an understanding that there are, as he put it, "more things in heaven and earth, Horatio ..." and science has its limitations.  FYI, I may have spelled Manny's name wrong.  It may be Manny Frishberg.  I perpetuate errors I see in print elsewhere.  Sorry!

Anyway, I added that science can be treated as a religion and that this has its drawbacks.  It also has an ongoing problem with the politics of what gets published and what doesn't.  Believe me, the medical and pharmaceutical industries and associations are not groups of altruistic angels.  I don't think they're entirely untrustworthy, but I firmly believe they shouldn't be in charge of everything that has to do with healing.

I got to hear a whole bunch of research I didn't know about.  The one that fascinated me involved mice who were given malaria.  I haven't looked at the study, or other studies involving prayer, energy healing and such, but I find it fascinating that there's now a physician's handbook that references such studies as well as alternative medicines that is in common circulation and can be found in doctor's offices all over the USA.  I find this heartening.  As much as I love modern medicine, there's a lot more work to be done and a person with a grim diagnosis, be it terminal or chronic, ought to have as many options open to them as possible.  Not only that, but that person ought to be aware that science doesn't have all the answers, that doctors aren't perfect, that medicine isn't perfect, and that the patient has to not only self-advocate but do things to help themselves beyond the doctor's office and keep their doctor informed because some things like herbal remedies do have drug interactions or other effects on the human body that may end up being fatal.  Sometimes you have to choose, and I'll be the first to tell you that 'natural' remedies are complicated substances (pharmaceuticals are controlled and purified or combined purified substances) that may have serious side effects just like pharmaceuticals do.

So we had a consensus/informational panel rather than a debate panel.  I have a bunch of studies to google and a fun book to hunt down, as soon as I remember the title.  (sigh)  

I ran around with C.S., Lizzy Shannon (she is such a kick, I love her!) and John Dalmas much of the night.  John Dalmas partied C.S. and I into the ground.  People kept asking him how he managed to have all kinds of beautiful women escorting him everywhere.  I think it's just what he does.  Though we were exhausted by the time we begged him to turn in, C.S. and I decided to stop by the dance/rave.  I don't know how long I danced, but it was several long songs until they shut the dance down.  It was wonderful to get sweaty and winded, and though my cold was in full swing I felt better for a while.  It was the only dancing I got to do the whole weekend, so I'm glad we made it there.  Laser lights, artificial smoke, good techno (could have been better) and a tireless crowd filled me up with all kinds of energy and joy.  Yay dancing!

I'll blog about Saturday, maybe in pieces because Saturday was a really big day, next time here on Jestablog.

Weird Health Notes

If you brush your teeth regularly, you'll reduce your risk of heart disease.  I've known this for years, but I'm not sure that it's common knowledge.  I especially make sure I brush my teeth before I eat in the morning.  Chowing down on your own plaque can't be good for you and besides, ew, gross!!

On livejournal I got into some of the details of how I've IFed in the past, and how I plan to operate using the IF paradigm for the 101 program beta test Steve Barnes is running.  Today is a regular, rather than a fast day.  I'm looking forward to having some treats today.  I don't let myself have dessert after dinner on non-fast days, but I can have dessert with lunch, and I can be a bad girl with my snacks if I really want.  On non-fast days, I find I eat a more complete lunch--all the food groups are included, I usually have dessert, and sometimes I have a glass of wine too.  It makes sense to me to have a lunch that's a bigger production than dinner.  Going to bed with a full stomach isn't good.

Wanna know how sumo wrestlers get big?  They get up very early, work out hard, eat a ginormous breakfast and then sleep.  Then they wake up, work out hard, eat a huge dinner, and go to bed for the night.  Wanna know how to get really big?  Eat two huge meals a day and nap right afterward.  If you exercise heavily you'll bulk up on those muscles and add to your size and weight, while still hanging on to the fat.

If you don't want to be huge, eat more meals, smaller meals, and sleep on a relatively empty stomach.

Winter Nagland

We're preparing for the big snow dump.  I now officially forbid anyone from even trying to come up here, as we're going to have both snow and freezing rain.  The image is from yesterday.  The snow is deeper today, and it's colder.  When the freezing rain comes (if it comes) it'll go from iffy driving to crazy.

This is the kind of weather where it's essential that all y'all with heating systems that absolutely must have clear venting to keep your family safe (like wood heat) need to check those vents, just in case.  I went out this morning early-ish to make sure our wood stove still had a clear chimney exhaust.  Looks good from here.  We've kept the heat up for long enough and hot enough that it seemed unlikely snow and ice would stick there, but since the fire goes out overnight every night, it pays to check.  

While I'm in mother hen finger-shaking mode, when's the last time you backed up your computer?  Don't forget to back up, me hearties.  

A Public Service Message from Brrr Hill

Headache, feeling achy.  I hope I'm just slow at adjusting to the very dry cold and dealing with a disruption in my sleep schedule rather than coming down with something.

If you're in dry cold, remember to drink on a schedule.  The thirst mechanism isn't triggered as reliably in cold weather, and dry cold (especially with lots of wind) dehydrates people shockingly fast.  I haven't been drinking on a schedule, and I suspect that may have something to do with how I'm feeling.

Dehydration can cause headaches, nausea, diarrhea as well as the more usual dry mouth/throat/fuzzy tongue.  In fact, if you need something to help you remember the less usual symptoms of dehydration, just think about how it feels to be hungover.  

And don't forget to check your pee.  There are grosser things to do.  No, I don't want to hear about them.  :-)  If you're not going, or not going often enough, or its dark, you could be in trouble.  Seriously.

Stay safe and warm out there.  It might not be as cold as it is in, say, Montana, but it's no joke.  In fact, those of us who aren't used to this really chilly weather are generally less prepared, and more likely to suffer from a cold injury like frostbite or lung damage than our more savvy cold-weather neighbors.

Happy Brrr Days!

10,033

I wrote three times--after midnight until 3ish am if I remember right (I'm a little fuzzy on the details,) late this morning, and then after dinner until midnight again.  That got me a great headstart on what's shaping up to be a fun novel to play in.  

Um, I'm pretty tired now.  I think I'm going to go to bed.  The plan for tomorrow is to sleep in and write at a relaxed pace.

I've been talking with C.S. about health, writing pace, crashes, and old-tyme constitutionals.  I went to 24 Hour Fitness today to run through my routine before writing this evening.  I don't know if it helped my word count, but it kept me from getting sore in the seat and my circulation stayed decent through the hours there.  I also made sure I got up every so often and wandered.  Writers face health hurdles with the sittin' down and the typing or handwriting.  It's hard on a body, but in the way that makes a body soft and yet brittle rather than the kind of hard that makes a body, well, hard and yet flexible.  So take care of your bodies.  Nano is traditionally a caffiene and sugar-fest with late hours and short sleep, a recipe for health ills even if you're in decent shape to start with.  So break those up with long walks, veggies, home-cooked meats, whole grains, fresh fruit--you know the drill.  C.S. suggested that it may keep away the second week slumps.  You never know!

FYI, my Nano word count widgit appears to update at its own good time.  The count may or may not be accurate.  But it will never be higher than I've actually written, unless there's something really weird going on.

Get the lead out

Or in this case, iron.  I'm going back to having a personal trainer, at least for a while, and today is my first day.  My favorite of his credentials?  No, it's not his training certifications.  He has a degree in medieval studies.  Maybe he can fill me in on obscure medieval technologies (they weren't working with stone knives and bear skins during the so-called Dark Ages after all!) while I do my reps.  And I'll have homework, which means I'll probably have to get another one of those balance ball thingies.  We had one, but it exploded.  I'm not sure how, so don't ask!

Anyway, a combo of aerobics, weight training and nifty balance exercises should get me back on track and hopefully fend off things like high blood pressure, which apparently I'm potentially vulnerable to thanks to the treatment of icky girl stuff.  But hey, I'd rather have a slightly elevated blood pressure (I'm starting with a very low baseline) than go back to dealing with the original problem.  If I can just hang onto this treatment until I'm menopausal, I'll be a very happy camper.

Opportunity

I've been bumming around the garden and keyboard trying to work out a time/rhythm for working out.  Almost everyone has this struggle.  What's worse for me is that I used to run on a regular basis, and at one point in my life I was working out 5 days a week between martial arts, yoga, weight lifting and other pursuits.  (Boy, that was a long time ago now.)  I know I can do it.  What's more, I know I enjoyed it.  What's keeping my butt in the chair?

The ten thousand little excuses.  I should be writing.  I should do housework.  I don't want to drive over to the 24 Hour Fitness without multitasking because of the gas.  Oh look, I'm in the area but I forgot to bring workout clothes (or a towel, or the right shoes.)  I'll do it later tonight.  I'm tired I'll do it in the morning.  Okay, I'm here on the floor watching a DVD but all I really want to do is stretching and a few situps and oh look, there's that sudoku I was working on.

It's insane.  I want off the roller coaster and back into a routine.  It won't take me long to get there and stay there, but I know me.  I do best with outside pressure.  Whether it's working out steadily with a friend (if I don't go my friend won't go and I can't be part of the problem--must be part of the solution!) or taking classes for money or the gym membership (which is languishing but apparently not enough to make me get out there more than once a month) or whatever I do better with external structure.  I think I've found something, and I'd like folks to spread the word because this could be a lot of fun.  And work.  And fun.  And work.  If Steve is serious about 101 volunteers to beta this then even if you read this post in a couple of days chances are pretty good that you'll make it in.  

If you're on serious meds or have health problems do consult your doctor.  Most of the program should help except the intermittent fasting in combination with certain medications or health problems.  I think folks should still be able to do IF in most cases even if they're on heavy medications but personally I would modify it in some way so that you're getting something in your stomach, even if it's just all veggies for the 'fasting' day, so that your blood sugar or meds in an empty stomach don't damage you or cause you excessive pain.  

One thing I really love about IF is that when I know I'm not going to be eating all day I make with the busy work like crazy.  I write more, I garden more, I clean more house, I get out of the house to do stuff, etc.  I also drink lots more water.  I let myself get dehydrated yesterday so the extra water today will be grand.  Yet another thing I really love about IF is that when I'm disciplined about my food, that bleeds over into discipline in other areas.  And when I do eat, I crave the good stuff.  Fresh or lightly cooked veggies.  Home-cooked meat.  Salads.  Cheeses.  The pre-processed, pre-seasoned, deep fried or empty calorie junk just doesn't do it for me when I'm on IF.

Anyway, I'd be very happy if folks joined me or spread the word.  I'm really looking forward to this and I can't wait to start.  Literally can't wait.  I decided to fast today.  Interestingly enough, I decided to fast today before I read the post.  Coincidence?  Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.  I'm comfortable with synchronicity in the universe.

Surprise! Didn't see that coming!

I get to sleep in tomorrow.  That's going to be such a wonderful luxury.  I try not to but I often stay up late to write and check up on forums and blogs.  When I stay up late and get up early I get lots and lots done, but it costs me a lot.  Today I felt normal most of the day but these last few hours I'm not just exhausted but feeling sore again.  I should know better than to overdo.  Bad Kami, bad, no more getting up early for you for a whole weekend.

Um, what's my motivation for not doing this again?

We had a great INK meeting tonight in which I learned about the flaws in my stories.  Tomorrow I'll fix those flaws as best I can and send them out immediately to the markets I have in mind.  There's one in particular that I was sure I wouldn't have time or energy to finish before the submission deadline and so I relaxed and just let the words flow and didn't write to fit the guidelines per se.  What came out is mysterious in that I'm not sure why or how it works.  Which brings me to one of the ideas I had at the meeting.  I realized why I don't write outlines.  My mental outlines are restrictive enough that I chafe even under those, and when I break away from that predicted path I have these aha moments that I could never plan for, never predict, never craft.  Well, never's a strong word.  But I figure that if they surprise me when they turn up they'll surprise the reader.  If I can plot it out in advance (unless I get into really Byzantine multilayered structure and deliberate twists like some mystery writers do) just about anyone will be able to see it coming.  If it catches me off guard and steals my next heartbeat, I figure I'm onto something good.

I can't of course make a statement like this is my best story ever because only my readers can decide that.  INK liked it, both the stories I had in for critique, actually, so so far so good.  We'll see how this and the other story do when I send them off into the big world to seek their fortunes, and my heart goes with them.

Bliss and Success

Still sore today.  Nothing new there.  I think I'm better in that incremental way that people feel better with their colds when the fever goes away but they're still coughing and draining enough snot to go into national production.  At least I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  

Also, I had my first mammogram today.  I think I must be a member of the lucky few because it didn't hurt.  At all.  Squeeze the boobies this way, squeeze 'em that way, and you're all done.  It was firm but not at all painful pressure.  Piece of cake.  After my TMI procedure I was all ready to be pain endurance woman, too.  Got some ibuprofen into me, coached myself to relax, take deep breaths that reach below the navel, and concentrate forward through time with wordless calm.  I'd say it was a huge disappointment but actually it was a relief.  I won't hesitate to go in for a mammogram on the suggested timetable.  The bummer part, aside from having no chance to use my (very limited) zen training?  No excuse to go have a conciliatory ice cream at Cold Stone.  Nothing to do but to go home, have lunch and wait until it was time to pick the boy up from school.

I was missing my man pretty desperately yesterday but I got to talk to him today and I'm walking on clouds on air.  A best friend and lover's voice develops a direct connection to the soul.  It doesn't amaze me at all that I'm in a great mood today.  My spirit has had a big chunk of emotional chocolate and is riding the endorphin high.  Weeeee!

So it's been a day of bliss and success.  Now I just have to finish up my reading, finish up my financial stuff for the week and I can finally settle into some semblance of summer vacation.

The sickness spreads, and paint geekiness

It's official now.  The girl is sick too.  

I went to the doc yesterday and my lungs are clear (so far) and I don't appear to have secondary infections going on.  So, despite the fact that I'm ill, have an off again, on again fever and sound like I've traded my vocal chords for sandpaper, I can still declare:

My immune system is mighty.  Here me roar!

Actually, you can hear me roar later, after I'm done with the laryngitis thingy.  I'm supposed to rest my voice as much as possible.  Which, btw, for those of you not in the know, whispering is as hard if not harder on your voice than talking.  Don't whisper if you have laryngitis.  Write a note.  Point.  Shake your head no no and point again more firmly.  That.  That right there.  Yes!  No, not that, that.  Oh, I give up, I'll get it myself.

In painting news I plan to get some new paints.  I've been working with the same palette for a long time (well, about four years which is not that long I guess) and, although I'm sure there's much more to learn about these colors, I've learned to trust their properties, how they mix,and I know how they lay beside each other.  It's time for some new colors to shake things up.

My 'normal' palette is primarily composed of Schmincke aquarelles (watercolors) with some M. Grahams.  I use vanadium yellow, gamboge, vermillion, cadmium red, madder red dark, quinacridone violet, ultramarine blue, cerulean blue and viridian as my 'primary' colors and yellow ochre, raw sienna, raw umber, and Hooker's green as my 'earth' colors.  My earth palette is pathetically limited and I can't paint with it in a functional manner.  Although I don't have black or gray I haven't missed them.  I mix them.

Anyway, I went to Art's Desire to snoop around.  I was almost out of quincridone violet and viridian so I picked up a tube of each (all of these are in M. Grahams, a local company, which I'm moving over to away from Schmincke) and I got pthalocyanine green because it looked useful to me.  I'd also been thinking about how prussian blue would fit into my earth palette, and since it was right there ....  After some hemming and hawing I also picked up burnt umber, a nice, red-leaning brown.  

For 'normal' colors I'd like to add new gamboge because as a yellow it has more range and interest than regular gamboge.  I'm also picking up perylene green, which, I admit, may make me lazy about mixing my blacks.  I'm probably going to phase out Hunter's green.  Although Hunter's is an artist's standard, it hasn't been very useful to me with my current palette and when I dip into it as a straight color or for mixing I'm usually disappointed with how flat it is.  With the new additions I may change my mind.  I have until the end of the tube to decide.  For now, though, it's on the 'need not restock' list.  I also at some point picked up chrome yellow.  I never use the darned thing.  What was I thinking?  

But the colors I'm really excited about are the Daniel Smith Primateks.  These so-called mineral colors show a lot of promise.  This overview on Handprint discusses some of the strengths and weaknesses of these colors.  One negative for Handprint is a positive for me--I paint very dark, and so the dark nature of the mineral hues will serve to my advantage.  I'm also excited to see how the precipitation will work on yupo.  Will it do too much?  Behave itself?  Go wild?  Disappoint?  Can't wait to try.  My choices are blue apatite, sodalite, piemontite and bloodstone.  With these colors, I think my earth palette will become at least as fun to play with as my primary palette.  I can expand as an artist and play with some grown up colors.  

One thing is certain.  My normal palette (the actual palette rather than the colors I have) is too small.  Either that or I have to break down and get a second one, separating the earth from the primaries.  I can no longer foist my earth colors into mixing pockets.  I'll need all the mixing pockets now.  Interestingly enough, although I hadn't planned on it, I'll end up with ten primary colors (replacing gamboge with new gamboge) and twelve earth colors (if prussian blue works out in that palette--it may end up fitting better with the primaries.)  This will be the first time I'll have more colors in the earth palette than the primary.  I think it will work really well with the subject matter I choose, but I won't know until I get there.  

So today I'll paint some with what I have and see what happens.  First thing, got to do some paint swatches and see where I'm at, and then it's onward and forward from there.

Heavy

The snow is coming down fast in big flakes, not white out  conditions but still remarkable.  It's gorgeous.  I'm glad Rory got home before it started coming down this hard.  

The giant snow ogre was leaning this morning, and by late morning he finally toppled, poor thing.  Well, with the fresh snow we might roll him back together or just making him into something new.

Ugh, I'm in major girl pain right now, but hopefully for the last time.  I start my new treatment at the end of the week.  If it works, I'll be so happy!  If not, we have another easy option.  It's normally a $500 day 'surgery' but with our insurance it will cost all of $5.  I can hardly wait to feel some results.  I'm sure my blood count will be thankful too.  Which reminds me, I haven't taken my iron pill today.  Yuck.  Isn't there a form I can submit that takes me off the reproductive cycle?  I don't plan on having any more children.  Really.  See the sincerity on my pain-tightened face?

Updates

Looks like my brother-in-law is in for a big fight, but one that he can outlast the enemy.  We're all thinking our best thoughts for him.

My grandmother suffered a blood clot injury that has permanently blinded her in one eye.  I'm just glad she didn't have a stroke.  More tests ensuing.  I thought from her description that something went wrong with a scar from her cataract surgery.  Now I'm so very sorry that I didn't worry more and insist that she go to the emergency room on Christmas Eve.  I guess no one expects these things to happen.  Secretly I hope that the doctors are wrong and that some sort of regeneration is possible so my beloved grandma can have sight restored to what had been her good eye.

In more lighthearted news, apparently we're in for a big snow storm.  I'm going to see if I can't get Rory to call in to work.  He probably won't, but it's worth a try.  The stuff they're having him do right now he's whipping through much more quickly than they've budgeted time for, so it won't hurt any projects, but on the other hand I don't think he wants to lose the work hours.  Plus, he prefers to be as dependable as is humanly possible.

I worked some more on my website.  It's really addicting.  I have to put some time into writing and marketing now, so that'll be it for the site for now.  It was fun doing something different.