Hand Jive

You knew it was coming: I made the call to update the knee specialist about the spinal epidural treatments for the lump in my wrist. It's been 2 weeks since the first of three procedures, and before I show up for injection #2, I wanted to try one more time to communicate that my wrist really needs to be treated, not my neck.

I assured the nurse that my neck hasn't felt this good in years: I can turn side-to-side without sounding as if I'm grinding walnuts in a disposal while so doing. I'm not achy in my back, either, which is also good. However, I felt compelled to point out that my left wrist still hurts like hell most of the time, but most especially during the night and/or if I actually use the hand.

The knee specialist's nurse, who was fielding my call, informed me that they "aren't treating" my wrist, but the serious spinal stenosis, degenerative disc disease, and arthritis require the spinal epidurals.

Again, I agreed that they aren't treating my wrist -- but pointed out that my wrist is why I made the original appointment. I added that my wrist has a lump in it, the blood vessels are still swelling and throbbing, and I'm in constant pain. I added that those are the symptoms I presented to the knee specialist's PA, who prescribed, ultimately, the spinal epidurals, while assuring me that once the swelling in the cervical spine decreased, so would the symptoms in my left wrist.

I left out the "I'm really, really cranky," as I didn't feel that admission would further the cause of world peace.

When the nurse patiently informed me that "of course" the spinal epidurals won't treat a wrist problem because they are prescribed to treat the spinal issues, as if I were the village idiot, I asked her what she recommends I do about my wrist pain.

"Well," she replied, "I think you need to see (drum roll) a hand specialist! Why don't I check his schedule and see when he can consult on the hand while we continue to treat the spinal issues?"

Yep, it was that easy. I have an appointment to see the hand specialist Oct. 18. When I asked the nurse if she can annotate the appointment "Do NOT cancel," she said, "Oh, we wouldn't do that unless it's an emergency, and we always call and notify the patient first."

Right. And we don't treat a lump in the wrist with spinal epidurals either, do we?

Bounce

Had the Republican President's bail-out bill passed, as it was predicted to do, the bounce would have gone to McCain, the Republican nominee. Speaker of the House Pelosi, a Democrat, is never going to allow that to happen, especially 5 weeks prior to elections, so before calling for the vote she delivered a stirring speech strong-arming House members to vote against the bail-out or lose their home-town elections in November.

The same tactic was employed recently to defeat the long-awaited bi-partisan energy bill, and if you can fool me once, why not twice?

The strategy worked; the bill is defeated; Wall Street is selling off at a pace that could crash the market. Desperate measures create desperate times, a calculated strategy that is as risky as the tactics used by the financial institutions to create the situation in the first place.

Hopefully, into the breach will ride a Demo bill that can be gloriously touted as saving the economy. Thus, Obama gets the bounce and home-town crowds vote Demo all the way to the White House. My only hope is that it's done quickly as I really don't give a damn about which candidate gets the bounce, just whether I continue to receive my retirement check and don't lose every dime of the money in my TSA that I've saved during the past 30 years!

God, I hate politics when the politicians put their political agenda before the good of the people!

Instant Opinion

Quick -- before the talking heads can tell me what I heard and should think -- both candidates acquitted themselves with honor. I am equally impressed with both candidates' knowledge, responses, and adherence to the dictates of debate. They stayed focused on the issues, rather than attacking personalities, which made the event much more valuable to those of us who have yet to decide how to cast our vote.

It would be as easy to justify a vote for Obama as it would be for McCain, stepping aside from political philosophy and just looking at the character of the candidates, their stands on basic issues, and their command presence.

Based on the excellent showing of both candidates tonight, the Vice Presidential candidates' performance becomes more important than it would have been had one Presidential candidate significantly outclassed the other. Gov Palin will go in at a decided disadvantage when pitted against Sen Biden as her lack of political experience will be glaring against Biden's decades of swimming with the Washington sharks. He can, and probably will, take her apart during the 90 minutes he has to demonstrate the differences between them. If he is successful, it not only demonstrates his qualifications to be the next Vice President, but it also shines a spotlight on the selection of a less well-qualified nominee by the opposition.

If, however, Gov Palin can stand toe-to-toe with Biden, we may have a horse race, folks.

Therefore, I believe that next week's debate will push undecided voters to make a decision based on the viability of the VP candidates, rather than the Presidential nominees.

Tough TV Night

Too many choices!

Dancing with the Stars, third big night: who's going home? Let's see. It can't be Cloris Leachman because she's the clown this season, even though she cannot come close to what could be termed an actual dance performance. It can't be the huge black football player for myriad reasons. Cute Kids Kim and Corey have the 'tween audience, so we have to keep them going to up the ratings. And that darned model actress with a bazillion kids can actually dance, so we best be hanging onto her. Carrie Ann hurt the skinny soap star's feelings, so we have to back off her, too, or it'll look like we're mean, rather than just trying to obtain professional dance results from media personalities. Well, there aren't many contestants left (joke), so let's see. Eenie, meenie, minie, mo: Bye, nice has-been TV sitcom actor who sort of looks like Gary Grant and actually tried to dance.

Even Tom and the Starlet look shell-shocked during Day 3 of the BIG KICK-OFF WEEK, can't keep the contestants straight or the banter humorous, and just wish it would all go away. After all, they usually only work 2 hours and anyone can keep up the happy-happy for 2 hours. This week, however, it's been one tough gig: 6, count 'em, 6 hours of live TV! Totally as grueling as actually dancing on 3 consecutive nights of live TV, especially when it's followed up with (gasp) hyping David Blaine's latest (ominous, deep voice here) ... Dance with Death!

Will David Blaine plunge to his death, be mentally retarded after hanging upside down for 60 hours, or blow out his eyeballs? Stay tuned for 2 hours of retrospective, cut with live, on the scene inanity ... but before we have answers to our probing questions about this idiotic stunt, let's see if he can catch a .22 bullet in his mouth! Are you all watching, kiddies? On your mark, get set, fire!

Totally awesome, dude!

Whoa! Who is that dour gloom and doom wrinkled face guy warning us that the economy is collapsing? Who put him on during prime time? And that set? An office with a flag? B-O-R-I-N-G!

Journalism 101

Big headline in today's local paper: Metrolink Kills Pedestrian.

Perhaps that actually is what occurred, but I'm thinking that a Metrolink train or bus probably did the deed, unless, of course, the pedestrian pissed off a government entity that what? Dropped an exterior brick wall on the victim? Hired a hit man?

Our local paper features in-depth news articles regularly, most of which consist of "A shooting occurred last night at (location). Police are looking for a suspect." Often details are included to help the local citizenry find the doer, such as "Police are looking for a Hispanic male." One article became the epitome of going after a story when the reporter proclaimed that "Police are looking for a male Hispanic with a tattoo."

It's the detail that really sells the story.

I'm not sure why someone's time is wasted to type the two lines of copy, much less proofread/edit/print such earthshaking pronouncements, but the quality of the reporting has totally been enhanced by the inclusion of an inter-active blog response. Thus, in addition to the inane news stories, we now can read inane blogs, inflammatory racism, libel aimed at public officials, as well as other bloggers, and personal birdwalks that fill space but add nothing to the news.

When newspapers were being printed, someone had to take responsibility for the content as it was there, in black and white, for the world to judge. Now that it's instant news, instant blog reaction, instant leap to judgment, no one has to accept responsibility because it's our "right" to express ourselves however we want, wherever we want to do so.

And that's good -- unless/until it passes for reporting. Hasn't anyone working at the local paper ever taken a journalism course?

Bigger Isn't Better

Dancing with the Stars kicked off last night with an engorged cast of celebrity dancers, very few of whom I recognized either by name or face. However, one is known for her "fabulous ass," which I recognized by far too much publicity given to it, as well as her name, and her celebrity stepfather, who was sitting in the crowd. I didn't see that her performance on the dance floor was improved either by having a big ass or by being one.

In addition to needlessly swelling the number of dance contestants, there are 2 (gasp) dances this week, 3 nights of kick-off (groan), and 2 eliminations (thank god). What begins with far too much hype may -- and I emphasize the may -- settle into another decent season of dancing with people you may/may not know, but what the heck? It's the only response to Idol we could come up with in a limited time frame! Bloody well borrowed from the British, what?

The scores were the lowest I've seen in several seasons, meant to allow somewhere to go during the endless stream of weeks to come, but were I one of the non-professional dancers, it would have discouraged me to barely break 10 out of 30 points! And the criticism were scathing: you would have thought a poorly-danced cha-cha-cha was a catastrophy to rival the collapse of our economy.

If I were a professional dancer, I'd be pissed to be paired with some of the highly-touted contestants brought in for what could only be termed "comic relief." Cloris Leachman confirms that there is a birthday that demarcates daring to live a little becoming just plain daffy decision-making. The heavy guy with the scruffy facial hair, pot belly, polyester pants and two left feet confirmed that there are men who are much better kept at home clicking the remote control than going out into the public eye. Susan Lucci has aged well, but obviously not gracefully! For as tiny as she is, she should have floated above the dance floor, rather than stumbling across it.

Some of the younger, more lithe and/or athletic contestants made the hours bearable, but I guffawed when the huge footbal player, who is more graceful swathed in sweat while doing a touchdown dance in the end zone, was praised for his dancing ability, as well as his lightness on his feet. He claimed prior to his performance that he's the first one onto the floor of the clubs and the envy of his dancing peers, but perhaps those judges' performance eval is clouded by far too many hours of wearing beer glasses.

Perhaps it's the tragic tone of the economy that has jaded me into melodrama so I can no longer appreciate airy lightness, barely-there dancing costumes, and faked enthusiasm for people who are willing to make fools of themselves for a little face time on the boob tube, but I wasn't with the dancing or the stars last night.

I imagine that if I make it through this week's marathon opening, I may have maxed out my dancing fix for this season and wait for the dramatic final week of the program to reveal who endured and holds aloft the mirror ball trophy.

And there are people who say I don't have a life!

Ms. Cranky Pants

Last week was challenging as all those little gotchas kept me from enjoying myself. The flat tire on the way to work; the regular maintenance for both vehicles topping $400; learning that the truck tires need to be replaced due to parking outside, rather in the garage, as the temps swing 50 degrees in a given month; the cart I use to transport myself from the parking lot to class and back falling apart and my files going all over the parking lot; the plastic file box falling off the desk during class and cracking beyond further use; and my thumbnail ripping off well below the quick as I tried to stop the falling box.

Well, it hasn't been ugly, but it's certainly been annoying. Most of the time, I have a pretty decent sense of humor, but underlying every hour of every day is this darned hand, swelling and throbbing at the wrist until I just want to sit down and cry to see if that will either make it go away or, at least, feel better for a while. I don't think the epidural did much, other than make the top of my shoulders feel as if I have been kicked by a mule, that is. It's annoying because this is an area that had no pain, and now it has far too much pain to be ignorable.

I'm engaged in my second reading of a difficult memoir, The Glass Castle, which details the dysfunctional life of the Walls family. This is not a book that can be told about; it is a book that you have either lived to some degree yourself or you won't understand. I can take small bites, but cannot consume an entire meal because it's emotionally draining for me to the point that I become physically ill. My life wasn't as theirs, but it had its moments of being intolerable, and when someone coined the word "dysfunctional," it provided me with a shorthand description for which only I have the translation.

The mother is the polar opposite of my uptight, straight-laced, humorless parent, truly a free-spirited hippie. She ignores her children when she disappears into the art zone and she cannot fathom her husband's total lack of engagement with anyone or anything outside of himself. Their lives are episodic, and the episodes are not to be believed.

One episode ends with the family sleeping in an Oldsmobile tied together with rope to keep the engine cover down, windows patched with plastic bags, and an engine that won't exceed 20 miles an hour. An overnight stop in Oklahoma ends with a crowd gathering around the vehicle, astonished that there is a family sleeping inside.

As the daughter, the author of the memoir, pulls a blanket over her head and refuses to come out until they are beyond the Muskogee city limits, her mother says: "Life is a drama full of tragedy and comedy. You should learn to enjoy the comic episodes a little more."

This week's goal: focus on the comedy and simply accept that which does not fit neatly into that category. I didn't make an ass of myself last night on international TV as a host of the Emmy's, so life isn't all bad.

Pretty as a Picture

The front yard is deliberately not manicured as I want the natural flow of the plants when the wind blows or the rain moistens the ground.

Currently, the Friendship Cacti Garden is getting too much water, but I have a call into the plumber who helped me fix it about adjusting the sprinkler heads.

I am enjoying my landscaping so much that I want to share it. The backyard is an as-yet uncovered courtyard where I can dine, enjoy the chiminea, or (in the future) the water feature.

One day, I'll have an open wooden patio cover, similar to the one that tops the cement slab, and I want to have a fountain that I can hear splashing water over natural desert rocks.

The Spinal Epidural

My sister of the soul took me for a spinal epidural injection of steroids to calm down the issues in my neck. I popped the first valium before she arrived and took the second 1/2 hour later, as directed to do prior to the procedure. We arrived at the office, were ushered in, and the doctor walked into the room for a mini-pre-conference.

"Tell me, where is your pain?" he asked.

I pointed to the bulging blood vessel outside my wrist and the swollen lump inside my wrist.

He looked perplexed and then asked me why I was there for the scheduled procedure because it's not going to address the issue in my hand! He said, "You need to see a hand specialist."

I felt like leaping into the air and shouting hurrah, but I simply laughed and said, "How about you communicate that to a doctor who is convinced that my hand problem is simply referred pain from the condition of my cervical spine?"

He looked a bit taken aback and asked me to clarify, so I briefly described the medical history since last May, all the while he was shaking his head. When I finished, he told me that the doctor who has prescribed this treatment may be on to something, but he's not sure I'm going to have the desired results in my hand as what he sees (and touched) appears to be a hand issue that needs to be addressed, not a cervical spine issue.

With nothing to lose, I asked him if he can do the injection today, do the follow-up next week, and then --if both he and I are correct and this is a waste of time, energy and medical resources -- get me in to see the hand specialist with whom I had an appointment that was changed without my knowledge and/or consent?

"It's a deal," he replied, adding, "and I'll ride up in the elevator with you to make sure you see him."

Hurrah.

If this injection works, I should notice results perhaps by the end of the day tomorrow, so my neck and shoulders, as well as my spinal column, should feel better, even if my hand doesn't. For the past 3 days, the pain in my hand is constantly a 10, the swelling obvious to the most casual observor, and I've been so cranky dealing with it that I am not fit for human companionship (were it to be available).

We'll see what happens between now and next week, when I call back and either say this worked -- give me the other 2 injections -- or please get me in to see a doctor who can actually diagnosis what is wrong with my left hand!

Democrap Publicity Politics

I can count on one hand the number of times I've watched C-SPAN, but last night, I was glad TiVO was recording my "must-watch" programs as I became engrossed in a Republican mini-filibuster taking place in the House.

According to the over-whelming evidence presented by the steady stream of mostly Republican presentors, rather than pass the highly-touted bi-partisan energy bill brought to the House, including by the almost 3 dozen Democraps who co-authored the bill, the Speaker of the House, a Democrap, flouted the process for introducing a bill to the House and rubber-stamped a hastily-authored Democrap substitute bill that is so patently flawed that the Senate has already said it's dead on arrival at their front door.

Several hours were spent on the presentation, much of which not just detailed the deceit, but also used the Democraps' words touting the original bi-partisan bill in the media and letters to party members to describe the extent of the betrayal of both the House membership and the established process. It appears that the Democrap's substitute bill's only purpose is to forestall the bi-partisan energy bill from being passed by the House because it would support media coverage for Republican candidates running on an energy platform, and possibly affect the outcome of the Presidential election.

The way this played out, the Democrap Speaker called for a vote on the bi-partisan bill, and, to a representative, the Democraps who helped author it and publicly supported it voted "nay." Once that was done, the Democrap Speaker pushed the alternate Democrap bill from her chair, refused to allow either discussion or debate, called for the vote, and then rushed it out the door on its way to the Senate.

Of course, the Democrap party faithful fell into line and voted for the substitute bill in a carefully engineered publicity stunt to show unity behind the Democrap candidates -- and to thwart any attempt by a Republican to use passage of an energy bill to support a Republican candidate in a political campaign. Of course, the Democraps can now brag about passing "their" legislation, while painting the Republican party as failing to support it and unable to pass their own "flawed" bill through the House.

It will not be mentioned that the original bill, which had taken months to draft, was a bi-partisan bill enthusiastically supported by the Democraps during the process. It will not be mentioned that the only reason the bi-partisan bill was kicked to the curb is political, and when a Republican politician tells the truth, the Democraps will trumpet that party's success in passing a Democrap energy bill, minus the details of the dirty politics involved.

The fall-out will be caught by whomever is elected in November, engineered by the Democraps in the House to be largely Democraps as they have cleverly manipulated the public into believing that it is only through heroic efforts by that party that an energy bill was signed and sent to the Senate. A House of cards takes but one breath of wind to topple and I feel a hurricane on the horizon.

I wonder what happens to the real bi-partisan bill? Will the Democraps reintroduce it after the November election as "their" bill and pass it, again generating countless hours of media coverage for a job well-done? We're back to my least favorite truism: my perception is my reality -- and I'll make it yours, too!

Gov. Sarah Palin's selection as Republican running mate and her Party's vow to open up this country to development of its own natural resources to distance the US from heavy reliance on foreign oil (that costs about $10 billion a month in US financial resources to purchase) must be more of a threat to Democrap candidates than anyone is letting on. Unfortunately, this transparent effort to balance the publicity generated by the Republican candidates with the unethical actions of the House Democraps will be buried far, far away from the publicity generated by the Democrap Speaker of the House touting the success of the Democraps' "real" energy legislation, while the Republicans "refused" to support an energy bill.

Perception, publicity, politics. Demo-crap.

Updating Recent Blogs

(1) Thanks to Glen Beck for reading my blog (obviously) as he picked up on the "which part of mandatory evacuation don't you understand" theme I had going. His suggestion was to let the people who stayed behind fend for themselves come hell or high water. His peeve was in line with mine: why should taxpayers have to pay to rescue people who chose to flaut the mandate? They were directed to evacuate; they wanted to stay; let them stay until all the other urgent matters are taken care of before anyone deals with theirs.

(2) Little Missy not only wrote in her workbook, but she tore out the requisite pages for me! Of course, she doesn't know that I know that she went to the same person I talked with to clarify the situation. She went there to complain about me, while I went there to find a solution to the problem. Gotcha!

(3) Another student waltzed into class today, his 2nd class in 5 weeks, and one of those he left halfway through. I directed him to go to Student Services and drop the class as (1) he isn't attending (2) he hasn't completed any of the work to date (3) he doesn't have the required textbooks and (4) he's failing.

His counselor sent him back to class. When I questioned what he was doing back, he said (are you sitting down?) that his counselor told him that as long as he isn't failing the class, he should stick it out.

I was actually too pissed to say anything other than, "If that's what you want to do, that's what you're going to do." However, I warned him HE IS FAILING THE CLASS AND NEEDS TO DROP IT TODAY or he will repeat it next semester after wasting another 12 weeks of his time and my professional resources.

(4) Not bad for a day that began with a flat tire! I drove the couple of blocks to the big box tire store to have it fixed and was stunned to find that the cost of fixing a flat is now $24.95 -- if it can be fixed. There are now federal regulations about which tires can be repaired and which ones cannot and must be replaced; therefore, I was not allowed to pay until the repairperson determined which category fit my flat tire.

Tomorrow, the truck goes into the shop for its 18K tune-up and next week the Camry goes in, but that's one of the big mileage tune-ups, 85k, and will probably blow what little discretionary income I have this month.

Oh, well, that's just how it goes these days.

Truth be told

Sometimes, the truth is funnier than any fiction!

It's time to start the research process ( I stress that it's not an event, but an on-going process that takes about 6-8 weeks to do well), so today I began talking about choosing a topic. Basically, the student can select any topic as long as (1) he/she has a genuine need to know and (2) the topic can be focused appropriately and (3) lends itself to academic research.

When I asked if there were questions about selecting a topic, one very young female student voiced her opinion that it's not fair for me to select their topic as they have to write the paper, so they should select the topic. I acknowledged that she is right, which is why I don't select the topic for the student, but allow the student to select the topic as long as he/she can justify the need to know criteria.

"Well, " she said, totally perplexed, "that's what I mean. You keep saying 'as long as YOU have a need to know,' but I think it should be MY need to know about the topic, not YOURS."

Okay, I would have laughed out loud had I not realized that she was totally serious and just wanted permission to find her own topic, based on her own need to know. It was easier all the way around to admit that she is right, right, right -- and direct the class to find a topic about which each of THEM has an individual need to know. Happy, happy, happy.

Topping this, sad to say, is the little disagreement I had with a student last week when I directed her to write in her consumable workbook, which she refused to do because the book is provided by a department on campus and must be returned to them.

If that is the case, I explained, she will have to purchase a workbook because she is going to write in it, I am going to tear pages out, and if she cannot afford a book, I'll help her obtain one so she can meet this requirement. Or she can copy the entire book, for all I care.

She actually told me that I'm "not the boss of her" and cannot tell her what to do -- before she stomped out of the room. I thought that went well and can't wait to see her tomorrow.

Finally, today 2 students attended class for the 2nd time in 5 weeks, neither of whom has either a textbook or a completed assignment. I spoke to each of them and told them to drop the class and take it next semester, which did not go over well as both of them assured me that they will "work really hard and make up all the assignments" they have missed.

I told them that is not an option and directed them to leave class, go to Student Services, and drop the class. One said okay, while the other said "no way." He was insistent that he had already done the back assignments, was working on the current essay, then started thumbing through his folder. When I asked him for his textbook, he again told me he doesn't have one, which led me to my next comment: "You cannot have completed the assignments if you don't have a textbook. Go to Student Services and drop the class."

He was one unhappy camper as he picked up his belongings and said loudly, so everyone could hear, "This isn't fair. I've been here and done all the work and you're kicking me out." Can't wait to see what comes tomorrow as a result of his perception becoming my reality!

A Fine Line

I feel sorry for the thousands of residents of the Gulf Coast region who now have to deal with the aftermath of a second major hurricane in as many weeks. I'm not sure that living on the water is worth what it costs to have that prime real estate. Because it is an individual's decision to live in a location in spite of the risks, such as those of us who live in earthquake country, there is a part of me humming with resentment that my tax dollars are going to pay to rebuild not just their homes, but the businesses and the infrastructure of an area that is destroyed time after time by a combination of geography and weather patterns.

What happened during Katrina, damage spread far and wide, was devastating, but anyone who knows basic geography knew that it was inevitable! When the coastline is filled with debris to create landfill so man can have a seaport, and then man builds a seawall around the landfill and builds a city on top of it, it is inevitable that nature will reclaim it. Construction of seawalls cannot prevent the eventual collapse of a region below sea level, but may slow down when it happens. A bowl is going to fill with water during bad weather, whether it is a birdbath in the backyard or a city constructed on top of a bowl filled with debris and covered with sand. Anyone who thinks the structural engineering of more than a century ago that created this condition is sound today is naive. Rebuilding the same area in the same way at the taxpayer's expense is redundant folly!

And now the storms have hit the coastline Texas claims and the damage is again beyond what man's preventive measures could contain. Clean up and rebuilding will take years, the same as it did after the last major hurricane that devastated the coastline of Texas and commemorated with a shoreline statue destroyed in this season's hurricane. It's not just vacation homes, but major industry and infrastructure that follow the shore line, bad planning on anyone's part when it's well-known and documented in historical records how far inland the tides come and how much damage even a Force 1 hurricane can do when it makes landfall.

What is different for me this time is that the residents were not just warned to evacuate, but mandated to leave the region -- and far too many chose to "ride it out." I'm straddling the fine line between feeling glad they survived, but angry that they did so at the expense of the rest of the citizens of the United States who now have to pay for the search and rescue, as well as the recovery of victims. As if it's not bad enough that homes, businesses, and infrastructure are lost, we now have to deal with the people who should not have been there during this weather event, but who are injured or dead as a result of their decision.

This time, provisions were made for safe transport, for safe haven, for food during the hurricanes' landfall, but many of the residents are either too stupid or too selfish to realize that this decision was not theirs to make! When an individual or a family flauts the evacuation mandate and puts themselves in harm's way, I feel that the consequences of their actions are now theirs, too. Rescuers put themselves into harm's way to rescue those who chose not to move to safety as they were directed to do by the local authorities. The collective we learning the lessons of Katrina is of limited value when the individual I refuses to cooperate with what is provided to keep people safe during the seasonal storms.

Rather than rebuilding what has again been destroyed, man needs to relocate the cities away from the fragile coastline; reconfigure the geography to work with, rather than against, the normal patterns of tides and seasonal weather patterns. Create a better relationship with nature, one that does not demand months--and now years--of clean-up and rebuilding after the hurricanes that are destined to destroy the coastline. Create seawalls farther inland that can actually work with the high tides to contain the inevitable influx of water during hurricane season: the loss of homes on the shoreline is certainly better than the loss of life throughout the region.

The Earth is not a static ball of rock, dirt, and water rotating its merry way to infinity. It is a dynamic life force that is constantly changing on its own. Mankind interjected itself into the process of change by trying to stop what nature intends. We cannot change the weather patterns; we cannot dam up the water; we cannot stop the earth from quaking. If we are going to live with nature, we have to accept what has existed since before we were here and work with what nature intended, rather than forcing what man wants upon nature. Our refusal to accept what we cannot change ultimately results in changes we cannot refuse because Nature always wins.

Always.

The journey begins ...

If the journey of a lifetime begins with a single step, does the cleaning of the garage begin with a single day?

I spent a couple of hours in one corner of the garage, leaving a whole lot of corners and wall space left to deal with, but I filled the back of the pick-up, so how many more trips can it take to weed through this crap?

One day at a time; one load at a time.

Mia Prognosticator

This morning, Mia came in and agressively woke me up about 3:40 am. She nervously paced throughout the house, looked out the front window, stuck her nose out the doggie door, pacing, pacing, pacing. About 5 am, she finally settled back down ... and there was another earthquake in the valley!

This afternoon, she came and found me again, licked my hand, nuzzled her nose under my armpit (one of her favorite places) and climbed onto my lap. Suddenly, the door to the garage began making noise and I heard sand pinging against the livingroom window, so I got up and looked outside.

As far as the eye could see, it could see nothing but sand. I turned on the news and heard a "breaking news" story about the huge sandstorm coming across the desert floor from the east. When the hurricanes come into the Gulf, the winds on the westward edges push clouds, rain, and sand across our valley. Today's sandstorm was so heavy that drivers pulled off I-10 and waited for it to pass as they had no visibility on the interstate.

Mia knows. She keeps me safe (and slobbered).

UPDATE: The media was filled with coverage on the weird sandstorm that started in Desert Center and hung on for a couple of hours. We got a little bit of rain from it, but a whole lotta sand.

Mayo says

Searching the web is both a blessing and a curse, I decided, as I read about spinal stenosis, degenerative disc disease, and the treatment protocol recommended for my particular medical condition. As humans age, these conditions are fairly common, and it's when there is other involvement of the body, including (believe it or not) bladder or bowel involvement, that actual treatment is recommended.

What I've been doing, taking Aleve, using a brace when I have to use my left hand, alternating ice and moist heat, as well as massage, are indicated when the medical side-effects interfere with quality of life in a minor way. Changes in bladder or bowel habits, however, require immediate medical intervention -- but who would know that or connect a pinched nerve to sudden urges to pee or leaking urine, especially if that person has diabetes? The bottom line is that I've been coping because I've not had options: I started this journey last May and still have no resolution.

What Mayo tells me is that the epidural injections of cortisone go into the spinal fluid, a small detail glossed over when I asked about the procedure and the risks. Now I understand why the procedure requires me to be sedated, lie still, and "take it easy" for 24 hours following the x-ray guided injection! Mayo also cautions that these injections should not exceed a total of 3 in any given year ... because the side-effects can be worse than the condition being treated.

What's missing here is a sense of comfort that my decision to have the injections is in my best interest. Sure, I can't use my left hand often or well, but I'm right-handed. Sure, it hurts like hell part of the time, but not all of the time, and I've found ways to make the pain bearable when it almost isn't.

I'm going to take a few days to consider this before I fully commit to the appointment already on the books. I may decide to have one injection and see how it goes before arranging for the rest of the series, especially since they are recommending 3 over the course of the next 6 weeks, not over the course of an entire year!

I know I don't have a medical degree, but there is simply something about this entire situation that sits wrong with me, from the enormous swelling in my upper arm in May that sent me to the doctor but which has never been addressed. It appeared to me to involve circulation directly related to the pinpoint location of the pain in my wrist, where the swelling and throbbing are, indeed, localized. I'm just feeling that we're holistically attacking what seems to be a localized problem, rather than starting with the point of pain and working to a whole- body response only if that is warranted.

Senestra II

It is NOT my hand that is the problem. The swollen lump, the bulging blood vessels, the excruciating pain when I try to hold an item, pick up an object, open the car door, etc., is referred pain from some serious disc problems in my neck, as well as on-going degenerative spinal disease.

Well, that's what the PA said: I've never actually seen a doctor.

According to the MRI, I have spinal stenosis, a fancy term for some slipped discs that are resting on the nerve that goes from my spine, across my shoulder, down my arm, and into my hand. This condition is a result of the traumatic shoulder injury a few years back, and there is no cure, just various treatments that are tried until one works well enough that I can deal with it.

The recommended treatment is one or more series of 3 epidural injections into the slipped discs, administered while I'm on valium. The doctor does this while using x-ray to make sure the meds go into the correct little spot, rather than into an area that could have potential consequences. To make this happen, I have to show up one of the two days a week the procedure is done -- and I cannot drive myself to/from because I have to take the valium. That's an added kink I'm not sure how to incorporate into the event as everyone I know either works or lives out of town.

Anyway, with treatment, which could encompass as many as 3 series of 3 injections each, I should feel at least 75% better, experience less pain less often, and regain use of my hand, although that may be limited use, rather than full use.

Whatever.

My concern is whether the lump that keeps swelling and throbbing is going to go away, but "we" can't answer that question until "we" finish the series of injections and see how "we" react to them.

Did you just hear the KA-CHING of the medical cash register?

Sense of Humor

Some people simply cannot tell a joke!

What Obama intended was a humorous reference to Gov Palin's joke about putting lipstick on a pit bull/hockey mom. When you have a candidate with a natural knack for humor, it's tough to level the playing field when you're a candidate with none.

Her comment made the point that hockey moms have tenacity and the aggressive forcefulness associated with a pit bull. Once they sink their teeth into something, hockey moms don't let go.

What he said is that when you put lipstick on a pig ... much too long a pause ... it's still a pig.

The idea for the joke originated with someone with a sense of humor who thought it would be a funny come-back, but it isn't. That person is probably posting a resume on Monster.com today. What is surprising is that the normally serious Obama actually used the comment.

Perhaps that's why it's such a glaring oops: it's totally out of character for the candidate.

I would be offended with the allusion to the hockey mom joke I told because I would take the "pig" part personally. I'd be embarrassed if I were the one who made the comment and thought it was both appropriate and funny without realizing how sexist and demeaning it came across during delivery.

If I were Gov Palin, I'd be delighted to continue to use my sense of humor to resonate with voters at the rallies. If I were Senator Obama, I'd never tell another joke if I thought this one was appropriate for the international media to share!

The Pot Calls the Kettle Black

The news reporter explained while wearing his serious face that candidate Obama is frustrated that he has not yet heard specifics from candidate Palin about the Republican plan to turn-around what ails the country. Obama tells the crowd that he wants to know HOW the Republican candidates are going to accomplish their goals, not just that they intend to do so in a sound-bite. He hasn't heard any specific plan to deal with the economy, with the energy situation, with global warming, etc., etc., etc., since the RNC -- almost 2 weeks ago!

The clock is ticking, people!

Cut back to Obama (at this venue) sharing his feelings with workers about the need to turn around the economy and get workers back on the job. He's going to do this if he's elected ... somehow. I must have missed the specifics of the plan-- again. I'm sure that sometime in the year he's been on the election trail he's mentioned the specifics, but I'm not recalling where/when / how or what of that plan.

Perhaps the real reason Obama is calling for his opponents to specify what they are going to do is that he could use some help in figuring out his specific plan? Or perhaps I've just missed hearing those details being shared with the American people because Obama is saving that for a big announcement at a large stadium? Oh, that's right: he was already there and could have done that, but he didn't. Why use specifics when hyperbole is so much more a crowd pleaser?

What about the Oprah show? I can see the hype now: O on O!

I don't think anyone has a clue what can be done to turn this mess around! Some days, I think it's better that we implode because once we hit the bottom, perhaps we can do better the next time around. Next time, let's do it on a cash-and-carry basis, rather than relying on credit cards and people's word that they will repay the debt they incur. I've learned that people lie, cheat, and steal -- and squeal like stuck pigs when they are caught and held accountable.

Oh, wait, my plan would cripple the government, wouldn't it? That's where we all learned to live above our means, to bury ourselves in debt and then just walk away from it and let someone else pick up our pieces. I remember. And if I'm tempted to forget, all I have to say is "Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae."

Will those blocks ever stop tumbling?

The More Things Change ...

the more they stay the same.

It took almost exactly 3 hours to make the drive early this morning as the traffic was light and moving very fast. I joined the pack and Nascar-ed it with the rest of the road racers. Arrived in time to stop at my family home to say hello, and then all the "girls" went out for b'fast before I had to get to the park. The girls have grown so much and are all beautiful, talented, polite, and totally competent to take on the world and win: my kind of women! Their mom looks wonderful, no longer wearing the stress, verbal abuse, and depression my mother heaped on her daily for the first 15 years of her marriage to my youngest brother. As a matter of fact, she looks younger, happier, and thinner, too. Rest in peace, Mom.

After sharing a girls' group hug, I drove to the park and found the reunion site, staked out with a half-dozen grey-haired old men and women sitting in the shade. I didn't recognize any of them, not even the one person I thought I would recognize, but I introduced myself, looked at some of the collages about the past 45 years, and watched as the number of attendees swelled to perhaps 50 or so -- none of whom I recognized.

I did find my former neighbor, a rotund, rosy-faced, grey-haired little old lady who was wearing a straw bonnet covered in flowers and ribbons. It was such a cliche and so totally over the top, but it's her life. We talked a bit about the old neighborhood, and I tried to confirm that her brother married one of the girls who lived in the house between hers and mine, but after thinking about it for at least a full minute, if not longer, her only reply was, "Well, if her name was Jan, I think my brother married her." Perhaps not all the fruit is in her basket?

I talked to a nice guy, one of the twins in our class, about his career as an architect, his married children, and his grandchildren, the youngest of whom is 2 weeks old and lives in Prague with his family, the father of which teaches in the International school there. I talked to a blow-hard who claims to be a well-decorated author of numerous computer games, the names of which I recognized because my son is a gamer. He insisted that I sign his 45-year-old yearbook because back then, no one signed books (which could be true, I guess, but I think it's just that no one signed his because he seemed like a recognizable leopard wearing the same spots, if you catch my drift). I talked to the reunion organizer, who again invited me to visit her in her mountain retreat in some southern state in the middle of the US map. And I talked to a former Francis, who is now "Just Fran," and continues employment as a nurse because she can't decide if the patients need her or she needs them.

No, no one really asked me about me, but they did ask me about a lot of other classmates, some of whom are dead and all of whom weren't at this reunion function, so I didn't have much to add to those conversations.

After about an hour of this, I'd decided it was time to depart when a bouncy woman giggled her way in my direction, looked me up and down, and asked, "Who were you?"

"Uh, last time I looked, I still am, so I'm not sure what you're asking me," I replied, but supplied my "high school" name.

"Oh," she replied, obviously cluelesss. "Did I know you?"

"Nope," I said, and headed for my car.

Not a Walk in the Park

I'm one of those people who chooses to ignore that which I don't want to handle because it's easier not to allow it to exist than it is to deal with it. Conversely, if it's something I want to do or believe in, I go so far overboard in accomplishing it that I wear myself and those around me out with the effort.

For the first time in my life, I've had an overwhelming emotional reaction that caught me off guard and opened my eyes to something I absolutely do not want to face: I'm firmly into the "senior citizen" category, a fact confirmed every time I look into a mirror, as well as each and every time my body refuses to respond in a manner I deem appropriate to what I ask of it. As long as I keep busy, I can pretend that not only I, but my life, are the same as they've always been, but that isn't true and I must begin to acknowledge it, even if it's challenging to accept.

The trigger is my 45th high school class reunion, which is this weekend. I've known about it for several months as the persistent organizer and I met while I lived in Texas, and she's been in constant email contact with me for the past decade. She is so caught up in this reunion that she's either had gastric by-pass surgery, a major face-lift, or reverted to her second childhood at the high school stage of it! On the other hand, I doubt that I have ever looked worse, and I'm not anxious to be the one about whom the other senior citizens say, "oh, my, she looks so old and she's gained so much weight."

And they will. Or, perhaps even worse, they won't even remember me as I was one of the invisible students on campus in far too many ways.

As I was driving home from class Thursday, I made the decision not to attend the event as I began crying as I left campus and allowed myself a major bawl-out when I arrived safely in my living room. I cannot remember the last time I sobbed my heart out, but I did an excellent job this time, certainly making up for all the other times I probably should have shed a tear and failed to do so. When the hiccups came, I knew the storm had passed, and when my sister-in-law called to ask what time to expect me Friday, I told her I wasn't going to make the trip and apologized for the inconvenience.

[Aside: she said that was a relief to her as they aren't sure they have taken care of the mold problem I encountered at their home last time I stopped by to spend the weekend and went into instant asthma code red conditions!]

However, yesterday I talked to one of my age-appropriate friends, shared my feelings with her, and talked it out. She already attended her 45th and had a great time, but she is always the life of the party and was very popular in her small-town high school. Although I had friends in high school, I was never well-known and/or popular, and, to tell the truth, don't actually remember much of that time or those people. I worked my ass off all day on a couple of projects I have underway, and listened to loud music as I thought and thought and thought.

For the first time ever, I almost had to hit the panic button when I had the MRI, which has never bothered me in the past. However, I was able to control my reaction by deep breathing and steady, positive confirmation to myself that I could do this. I invited my friend's family over this past week for dessert after we had dinner at a local restaurant and actually enjoyed having them here. They complimented my desert landscaping, both front and back yards, as well as my warm, inviting living room, and enjoyed the brownies with ice cream I served for dessert.

More importantly, I enjoyed having them here and will continue to work to get over the residue from an incident in my past that devastated me and changed me forever from the outgoing, happy-go-lucky person I used to be to the person I am today, much more guarded about the people with whom I share my life, much less my self. There is a guardedness about me that I never needed before, but which I seldom breach, and it's time that I get over it and move on. Sure, I don't know these people, but they also don't know me, so how hard can this be.

Tomorrow morning, Sunday, I'm driving to my home town for the culminating activity of the class reunion, the picnic in the park. Of course, that means I'm also going to have to drive back home tomorrow evening, but I enjoy driving, so that's okay. I will simply be one more senior citizen eating lunch out of a box and trying to pretend that it doesn't matter that I don't remember more than 6 or so of the people I attended school with -- and wouldn't recognize any of them without a name label written in large, bold, black printing. We'll share superficial chatter and family photos, pack up the debris, and go back to our own little corners in the world. No harm/no foul, but I will have taken yet another step forward.

I can get through anything one day at a time.

Doin' the Limbo Rock

How low can you go? Are you sitting down? Holding onto the sides of the chair?

Well, it seems that Sarah Palin's husband was arrested for DUI! That it was 22 years ago is buried way down in the story, so the "headline news" seems totally shocking and worthy of what? Pulling the plug?

That is the goal of the media: to be the one who digs up the dirt that buries a candidate. Imagine being "the one" who torn John Edwards' life out from under him! What a coup. Now, that was noteworthy, especially if Edwards is the father of the child, but hardly rates on the same scale as an unknown's husband being arrested for drunk driving 22 years ago!

Talk about apples and oranges.

So far, it seems that Sarah Palin is an outspoken woman who stands up for what she believes. While she is an unproven, unknown quantity tossed into the international political scene, that could be a future plus, rather than an assumed negative. However, with the mound of dirt uncovered in less than a week, the purpose of which is to see if she has the chops to tell the media to go to hell and stay the course, it can be made to look dirty enough to bury the campaign. She'll be counseled to bow out gracefully, which is, perhaps, the purpose in announcing her selection in the first place: the sacrificial campaign lamb.

If you cannot obfuscate with verbiage, sometimes you have to throw a red herring to take the dogs off the trail.

Sorry, Sarah, that you and your family are caught in the crosshairs, but that's the price of politics.

Oh, for cryin' out loud!

Either Sarah Palin lied about being pregnant and her 5th child, her son, Trig, is actually her g'son -- or he's really her son.

What? Are we so hard up for challenging a candidate's credentials that we have to resort to this sort of garbage?

So, today, in the midst of that mud-fest, the family discloses that their 17-year-old daughter is pregnant and intends to marry the father of her child. You would have thought that Lot's wife had turned to look at the city and become a salt pillar. After all, Sarah Palin believes in teaching abstinence in the schools, and what does it say about her values when her own daughter becomes pregnant?

Yeah, and your point is what? Do as I say, not as I do -- or do as I do, not as I say?

We can tell teens 24/7 not to become sexually active, but the bottom line is that when they think they are either in love (girls) or in lust (boys), teens are probably going to have sex, regardless of what their parents and/or other adults preach about abstinence. That's both biology and theology because that pesky old Bible we selectively read does urge us to go forth and procreate, and it's pretty darned hard to keep people from doing just exactly that.

Thank you to B. Obama for telling the press that the families are off-limits. He has a couple of girls coming up and no one can say which decision will be made when it's getting hot and heavy on their basement couch: don't do it always sounds better in church on Sunday than it feels on that Saturday night couch!

I want to know about the candidates' stand on political issues. I'm not going to vote for B. Obama because he's black or not vote for him because he's black. Likewise, I'm not sold on voting for a 72-year-old man, regardless of his running mate. I had pretty much convinced myself that an Obama/Clinton ticket could have my Republican vote, depending on McCain's running mate, but that point is moot as Clinton wasn't offered the job and Palin is still an unknown.

I've heard Obama share his global approach to politics without specifics, but embued with lots of wonderful rhetoric aimed at assuring the American people that he's up to the task, whatever it is. McCain is pedantic and plodding, not much there to excite a crowd either for or against. Joe Biden is such a typical good ole boy politico that I wouldn't vote for him just because his type has been in Washington for far too long for all the wrong reasons. I've listened to Sarah Palin and I like what she has to say, although I'll admit that she's a whole lot more liberal about some topics than I, such as drilling in Alaska. However, I agree that if drilling in our own backyard lessens our dependence on foreign oil, that's a route we should vigorously explore, along with the development of alternative energy, mass transit, and fuel efficient vehicles.

I've told family and friends that I may not vote because I cannot select a person, party, or platform that warrants my support. I'm still back at the betrayal by the Republican party when all the viable candidates jumped ship way too early in the process to allow the majority of Republican party members to have a voice in choosing the candidate. That truly pissed me off and has totally soured me on this election.

When a Republican is willing to vote for Obama/Clinton, you know it's going to be an interesting election.