Things I am hearing on the radio with way more frequency than if left to chance:
•Guns N' Roses in general, "November Rain" in particular
•"We Will Rock You" (not that I'm complaining, but it's not even a big sports season)
•The Cure
"Rich Girl", but that may be selection bias since it was the #1 song the week I was born
•"Margaritaville", which actually makes sense. Parenthetically, my tolerance for Jimmy Buffett has improved over the years. I'm not ready to join the Conch Republic, though.
•Waaaay too much Red Hot Chili Peppers. Sorry, I burned out on them more than a decade ago. Decent live show, though, as you'd expect.
Something I want to hear more often--just love this guy's voice forever:
Rosina is off for three weeks before starting preschool again. A five-day program! 🙀 It does mean more free time for me--time I should spend practicing, and actually getting in a few lessons this fall--and another hour at the office every week. Plus it will be so good for her little growing brain. It unfortunately means she can't take dance with her previous teacher, since her evening classes are on the wrong side of town if I feel like avoiding a traffic hellscape, and they also interfere with her nap. We may sign her up for tae kwon do next month, which is a bit later in the afternoon.
Speaking of which, one of our other anticipated schedule changes for the fall is that I have suspended my belly dance classes for the time being. I'm not very happy about it, but a few months ago I decided to crunch the numbers, and for the price of one month of belly dance classes, we can get TWO monthly gym memberships. This revelation coincided with my original teacher going into semi-retirement. Her classes were taken over by one of her former students who teaches in the next town over, and while she is good, she seems to have a really big upper-body focus, which would be great if I didn't have a bulging disc that makes shoulder shimmies and some other arm moves only occasionally tolerable, not an all-the-time thing. Seriously, I'll try any hip moves you can throw at me, and have a good chance of success--but my neck says No, Thank You after about ten seconds of shoulder shimmies. (That and it always seems a bit embarrassing with my bust size.) Anyway, I'm taking a break, and we already have a gym in mind--very close, with childcare and classes of interest--we just need to find the opportunity for a visit, and figure out whether we can get a better deal without using Mark's company discount.
No worries, just taking three months off for the hell of it. Seriously, I have been wasting too much time on Facebook and Ravelry, but I have also been fairly productive, crafting- and household-wise. We did spend a week in Buffalo, but I had a cold the whole time. :/ At least with Mark's sister around, I did get a bit of a Rosina-break, and even allowed myself to take naps. Novel.
Ooh, I will update more later, but there's a thunderstorm and the power's flickering. To close for now, I will mention that I heard the Nine Inch Nails version of "Hurt" on the radio the other day, for the first time in a verrry long time, and truthfully, it is not nearly as good as the Johnny Cash cover. I guess I was never a big Trent Reznor fan anyway, but Johnny Cash just wins it all, you know? Also, btw, this is my new karaoke song. Whenever I get around to doing karaoke again!
George Michael. For as long as I can remember, even when it was not cool at all to admit it. This song! This video! Christy Turlington, guys!!
I actually forgot our two other health crises since the fall--mostly because they were resolved fairly quickly. Two ER trips! The Monday before Thanksgiving, I was draining pasta and managed to spill boiling water all over my right thigh. It happened too late in the day to get to Urgent Care, but in the morning my doctor couldn't treat it due to the infection risk, so I ended up at the ER (on a Tuesday afternoon, so luckily it didn't take long). The burn was the size of both my hands together, in the shape of an a Enterprise comm badge. (Still is, LOL.) It was pretty awful for the first four or five days--I never knew how much burns sucked--but it did heal pretty quickly. My doctor was even impressed at my healing abilities!
The second trip was for Rosina, poor thing. In February (luckily just before we got all that snow!), I was making dinner, again, when she tripped over Mark's foot and split the underside of her chin. She clearly needed stitches, but when we got her to Urgent Care they had to send us to a pediatric ER so she could be sedated. She wasn't in a lot of pain, which was a good thing because we had to wait forever--we got through triage right away, but spent four hours in the waiting room, then two more in an ER bay before the process started. She was such a trouper, and even got a little loopy from the sedative. Five stitches! We got home at exactly 4:00 A.M. The scar is in a pretty good spot, at least...
I meant to post this about two weeks ago, but I kept getting sidetracked--plus my child is not the reliable naptaker she once was--but I will update on my dumb, random, annoying and not-completely-critical health crap. But first: I like this song. The semi-creepy video is reminiscient of The Omega Man (in part because they were both filmed in an empty Los Angeles), and is slightly related to the song, I guess.
Anyway: so my perspiration problems and weight gain (starting two years ago now! jeez) were caused by the very low dose (i.e. half the starter dose for people with depression) of an old tricyclic antidepressant I was taking for IBS. After all my tests came back negative last year, I had no idea where to even start, but at some point I started searching (reliable) health websites for "excessive perspiration"...and came across something that I already knew from experience (infected sweat glands, awesome!), that antidepressants can cause it. Given that I had also gained about 30 pounds since April 2013--another side effect of antidepressants, also written off as part of early perimenopause--I put two and two together. Luckily I had a GI followup scheduled, and when I told my PA she was fairly convinced herself! Unfortunately this meant changing medications--and my IBS was actually reasonably controlled by the old stuff. The new stuff is a weird concept (daily powdered drink made of bovine immunoglobulins, seriously), and it works cumulatively--but before I started it, I had to step down from the antidepressant. If you've never done this, it's awful. Detox, basically, and for me it was hard even though I was on such a low dose to begin with. (I will never willingly take antidepressants again. Clearly they do not agree with me.) Along with the detox symptoms, my IBS was uncontrolled (other than emergency Imodium, and something I take for cramping) for weeks and weeks, until the new medication started to work. I seem to recall it took about two months to see positive change, so that was THREE months needing to know where the bathroom was at all times. (TMI.) Plus the detox. Also, I didn't give it much credit at the time, but that antidepressant was helping me sleep--so insomnia on top of all of it! It was pretty rough! But as I said, the new medication has been working increasingly well (though it's not perfect), and I have lost about twelve pounds in the last six months. (Currently stalled. Of course.) The perspiration issues seemed to stop once I went off the old medicine, but coincidentally that was the second week of October. ;) I will say that we've had a few warmer days already, and I think I'm back to my usual hot-natured (but reasonably typical) self. I will be on the new medication for another four months or so, but this stuff is so new, they're not really sure how long the effects will last. A few years, at least (which hopefully makes it worth paying for name-brand meds!), but I won't know what the plan will be until my next appointment in July.
Other ridiculous health drama...this one I'm not so cool about, because it is totally not fucking normal, even if it is not actually going to kill me, or even keep me from my daily activities. I've been fighting serious sinus irritation and bleeding for several years now--I dunno, maybe pregnancy messed up something? Not likely--and I thought the cause was Flonase. I switched to Nasocort, and while it didn't make things worse, it didn't help with the irritation. With the basically non-stop colds we had from September to March, I'd spent a minor amount of time with my finger in my nose--applying that water-based gel, then Aquaphor or even Carmex when the Ayr clearly didn't work. In mid-February I felt what seemed like erosion in the right side of my septum, near the front of my nose but not piercing territory. Weirded out, I made an appointment with my GP, who said it could happen to people in my situation--not just cokeheads!--and prescribed some antibiotic ointment and a Z-pack (I happened to have a sinus infection as well, fancy that). After a few weeks, it didn't seem to be improving--even after the colds FINALLY stopped--and in late March, I blew out something thick and flat. Apparently it was covering the extra hole I now possess in my fucking nose. Who knows how long it had been there, covered. So of course I freaked out--it is a seriously messed-up thing, and I don't know if being able to see it (if I hold my neck and mirror at very specific angles) is helpful or not. Anyway, I managed to get an ENT appointment quite quickly. Still no word on exactly how it happened--probably a combination of things, since my culture came back with the usual stuff, and I PROMISE YOU, I did not pick my nose so hard I dug a freaking hole through CARTILAGE, oh my God this is insane--but I just finished three more weeks of antibiotics, and have a fairly strict Sinus Rinse/topical antibiotic regimen. That and the ENT's developed this awesome mentholyptus-style lubricating sinus spray. (So at least there's that.) I have to do all this for another six weeks, then I have a follow-up to see if my septum is healed enough for surgery to be a consideration. Apparently the surgery sucks as well, so who knows. I have learned, though, that my snoring has gotten worse (I have a whistle, but only I can hear it, so I'm not sure why--other than that I live with Mr. Light Sleeper). I'm less upset right now, but it is still So Not Cool, and I wish I could go back to last fall and see an ENT before the shit hit the fan. Oh wait, I spent all of September either in the bathroom or lying on the couch with the lights out. :(
So anyway, that's basically what I was avoiding posting. Enjoy my teal deer! Now that it's over with, I can continue regaling my small audience with silly music observations, such as: why do they play so much Biggie during the '90s at Noon on the local alternative pop/eclectic radio station? And that said, it almost sounds quaint now--I mean, they hardly use Auto-Tune at all! Also, did you know there's a free Auto-Tune app? Dang, that means my mother could use Auto-Tune. I would actually pay for that!
My kid likes Arctic Monkeys. It is pretty hilarious. I suppose I should be glad she's stopped singing along with "Take Me to Church" when it comes on in the car.
I finished reading Doctor Sleep today. I haven't read any Stephen King in forever, and I have no idea why it took me so long to get to this one, considering how much I love The Shining. Maybe I was worried that it wouldn't be any good? It was. What is it about his writing that I'm always completely engulfed in his universes? I'm also reminded that I've been meaning to read 'Salem's Lot. It's funny that I can read books on gory topics, but can't even handle CSI--I guess I'm good at skimming over the grody stuff, or just not letting my imagination dwell on it...
"...Whatever is next, I don't want to have to compromise my priorities to get there, and I never want to be guilty of leaving behind what matters most."
The local classical station played Madama Butterfly the other night, which reminded me that I wanted to post this. To paraphrase, Cio-Cio-San is about to commit ritual suicide when her son walks into the room. She tells him that she is dying so he can go to America with his father, and asks him to remember her. The hunky guy in the T-shirt and hipster facial hair (Pinkerton, the child's father, AKA a grade-A slimeball) is none other than Placido Domingo. This is not normally staged this way--usually Pinkerton, his wife and the consul Sharpless walk in after the fact--but this production has some modern elements (note hunky Placido's T-shirt).
On a note unrelated to seppuku or extreme melodrama, my nephew was born on Saturday morning! It is still extremely strange to think of BJ as being a father. In the one picture I have seen of him holding baby Colin, he has him in the classic two-arm, "I have never held a baby before, and I am so scared I am going to drop him" pose. Obviously he has held babies before, but it always cracks me up when people hold babies like that. It's usually men, but not always. Anyway, I am knitting another Baby Bobbi Bear for Colin (many thanks to a friend who loaned me a copy of her pattern, since my copy seems to have walked off!). Photos when it's done! In the meantime, here's the sweater I knit for him back in October (Springtime Baby Cardi):
And while I'm discussing cardigans, Rosina is really loving the little Shalom Cardigan I made her, with sleeves added. It's almost too warm here to wear such a bulky sweater--not that I'm complaining--but we will have a few more chilly mornings.
Oh, Veronica Mars series finale, you are so damn unsatisfying!! I suppose I'm lucky that this is my first time watching; the movie DVD will be on its way to me in a few days, but most had to wait seven years for it. And now I see that there are novelizations... And here I was expecting to have to resort to fanfic!
In other news, Rosina's school is out for Spring Break this week, so I'll be working from home, just like in the old days. There are a few fun things on the horizon, but I also need to renew my license (and replace a fairly good picture from EIGHT YEARS AGO with a new one--that is just cruel) and spend waaay too much money on an interior door panel for my car. Like, more than three car payments' worth. Or two-and-a-half months of preschool tuition. Ugh, the last six months have been really expensive...
Today would have been Sister Rosetta Tharpe's 100th birthday! Below are two examples of why everyone should know her name:
WHAT. WAS. THAT. Basically, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page learned everything they know about the guitar from her.
I love this. She was primarily a gospel artist, but had a secular phase where she palled around with Cab Calloway and the like. This is a super hot song with dirty lyrics and some damn amazing dancing.
If you'd like to see more, I recommend her PBS American Masters special--it should be available on the PBS website, and I think it's even on YouTube.
In case you hadn't heard, the Marvin Gaye plagiarism case was decided the other day. I know this will probably not be the end of it, and that the fines are a drop in the bucket to these people, but I am still pissed that this was even in question. They SO OBVIOUSLY stole the bass line and rhythm from "Got to Give it Up". The parts they stole are the main reason "Blurred Lines" gets stuck in my head, despite its rapey lyrics. At least I can switch songs in my head!
In completely unrelated musical news, I read Deborah Voigt's autobiography over the weekend. It was okay, though I wish she had talked more about technique and less about her abusive relationships and addictions...her book, though! It did make it seem like she was just born with a fully-formed Wagnerian voice--which is obviously not true! I'm sure she worked her butt off. I just wish there had been more details! There was a decent amount of dish about other singers, which is always fun. My two favorite anecdotes are her description of getting groped by Bill Clinton (I KNOW) during a photo at a backstage meet-and-greet, while still at her heavier weight (OF COURSE), and the late-night phone call she got from Pavarotti to get details about her bariatric surgery. Just really damn hilarious.
Speaking of being overweight: I don't think I ever mentioned here that The Mystery of the Premature Perimenopause was solved. I will delve into more detail at some point (tomorrow?), but the short answer is: it wasn't actually perimenopause, but unpleasant side effects from my IBS medication! In the last five months, I've lost about 15 of the ~33 pounds I gained over 18 months on that stuff. I can't tell a difference yet (COME ON ALREADY!!), but I would like to be able to get back into my old capri pants by the time I can wear them!
I like this song, but I don't love this video. And now that I've heard her stripped-down performance for NPR, I don't love her voice, either. Too bad! I would have LOVED this song when I was 15. Along with most of the other angsty girls.
In other news, my daughter's friend asked me if I "had a baby in my tummy" today. (Probably time to get rid of this shirt! But seriously, it does actually have gathers in the stomach region--plus it's too short. It would've been a fine maternity shirt if it were longer.) When I said no, she asked why I was fat. (I may not even be paraphrasing.) I told her that some people are fat and some are skinny, and that it's no big deal. I was definitely not offended--she's barely four, and was just curious, plus I know I do not in actuality look pregnant--but I'm really glad her mother wasn't right there to hear! Can you imagine how mortifying that would be?!? I would want to sink into the earth.
Let's see if this actually works... The Blogger app has never been great, and it's apparently going to be a dick about posting videos--and despite the fact that they're all one big happy Google family now (all hail the almighty Google), YouTube doesn't have a direct share to Blogger on their app. Huzzah for dated interfaces... (Aaannddd...nope. Editing this on Safari, which is ridiculous. I may need to resort to email posts. Maybe it would work with Google Plus? I gave up on that a while ago, when I grudgingly acknowledged that Facebook is a necessary evil.)
Anyway, this is the second candidate for Saddest Song in the World. It was so sad that Joan freaking Baez decided to cover it. And I checked that: this is a Dar Williams original--in case your ears deceived you! It was topical, as I mentioned, because damn, we had a rough February! There were no keys freezing in ponds, but it was thirty degrees below normal. We have daffodils and seasonable temperatures at the moment, but jeez, it snowed TWO WEEKS AGO. Nuts.
(It would be remiss of me not to mention that my grandfather also died two weeks ago. It sucks, and he will be fondly remembered by just about everyone he met--even if they'd just drunk his wine--but he hadn't been himself in so many years, and he was really suffering those last few weeks. Rosina and I got to see him in early February, luckily on a good day, so at least we got to cheer him up. I will never smell Old Spice without thinking of him. All this said, his death is not why I'm posting sad songs!)
As I contemplated my blog recently, many months after my last post, I realized what I was really in the mood for was making a mix tape. Yes, an update is due--though the few of you who read here know plenty about my life--but I remembered how much fun I had making mix tapes. All the ridiculous attention paid to artwork and song order... I think the last one I made was for Mark when we first started dating, with many of the songs downloaded from Napster (!!!)--like when it was free and questionably legal--and a preponderance of Foo Fighters. And while I could certainly make dozens of YouTube playlists, maybe it's just cool to drop in a video or two. (Don't I do that a lot here, anyway?)
This came on the radio the other day, and it really is one of only a few songs outside of Puccini that could possibly make me cry. (Another, which has been extremely topical, will follow later/tomorrow.) This video is extremely '90s, but I think the song still really stands up. (Other than the fact that it's certainly harder nowadays to get an abortion in North Carolina...but that is a topic for another day!)
(Um, apparently meant to post this seven months ago!)
Quote of the day (here): "...If the person working the counter at your neighborhood 7-Eleven offers to sell you a copper IUD, steer clear! That thing is probably fake as hell."
There's a reason I haven't knit the Baby Surprise Jacket in many years...I forgot how this damn thing sucks your soul. It's for one of Mark's coworkers who's due in October, so I do have some time, but man, this is boring. Oh, and I'm using sport-weight acrylic. Every time I work on an acrylic project for any real amount of time, I remember how I dislike working with it. I need to stick with cotton for baby stuff!
Yesterday I realized that Rosina was taking Got Your Nose very seriously--not that she was upset, but that I think she actually believed it a bit. I felt bad and had to let her in on the secret. :)
Reasons My Child Is Crying (one of these days I may even submit a photo):
-We wouldn't let her lick a table knife.
-I flushed before letting her inspect the contents. My contents, that is. Want to see your poopeeee!
-We wouldn't let her play with a cheap toy badminton racket--one from which the head is easily removed, exposing a sharp spike (seriously, this thing is Bag O' Glass territory...)
Tomorrow I finally have the appointment with the GYN surgeon, and I'm glad Mark is able to make it. I'm not planning on making any decisions any time soon, but I did write a blog post the other day (unfortunately eaten by the Interwebs) where I mentioned reading a lot about the side effects of having a hysterectomy or oophotectomy at my age. They're pretty dire, honestly. I mean, if I'm basically on hormone replacement already--without the literal years taken off my life expectancy, given the immediately increased risks of stroke, heart disease, osteoporosis, cancer--than I may as well keep things the way they are, with maybe some laparoscopic surgery to clean things up a bit. (Bonus: three days' recovery time, versus six weeks!) a That said, I don't think I'm seeing any changes since going back on the old meds. My followup with the RE isn't for three weeks--and I STILL haven't heard from the nutritionist that's supposed to call me!--so who knows. If I think too much about it all, I get pretty upset--not having control over my body's even basic systems, fear of gaining even more weight, diabetes of course (I know my bloodwork came back fine--but I still feel like a ticking timebomb). Ugh.
All clear on the pacifier front! Rosina has asked for it at night and before her nap, but we just keep telling her that they are gone, having been "sent to Baby Maddie". It appears to be holding her off...
Inspired by the prankish theft of a small baby dinosaur model from the state history museum last week (it has been returned, and I think the thieves are charged with grand larceny! Some prank), we decided to drop by and visit the dinosaur exhibits ourselves today. Rosina was stoked, of course, but still gets a bit freaked out because they're so big... We had lunch in the lower-level, and I must say that the fried-green-tomato BLT with Brie is not as good as the Brie grilled cheese with apple chutney I had there last winter. That thing was perfection...
We had some old friends over for dinner last night, which was really nice. The weather was perfect for hanging out on the screened-in porch after dinner. Also, I was pleasantly reminded how good vanilla ice cream is with fruit. Mango, peaches, cherries... Just wow.
My dance teacher is only teaching beginners this session, so tomorrow will be basically the first Monday in years I won't either go to class or feel guilty for missing it. :) Now that my plantar fasciitis is better-behaved, I should be able to start practicing again. I was planning on taking bellydance in September--which I haven't taken in a while!--so I'll need to brush up on my hip shimmies. Also, maybe I can figure out how to coordinate a camel, once my shoulder stops doing its thing. My PT appointment tomorrow is actually at a new dancer clinic my PT and an ex-dancer orthopedist have started. I should be able to get some recommendations for my feet--and how not to flare them up!--and maybe get some more advice for my neck/shoulder.
Very busy day tomorrow--art class, tree service, appointment, working!--so I'll sign off. I think I will need another weekend after tomorrow!
Something I should not notice or care about: the voice actor who plays Prince Wednesday on Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood's voice is changing. (See also: Signs that you watch too much PBS Kids.) Also: the amount of Auto-Tune they have to use for Katerina Kitty-Cat's voice actor is unacceptable. I mean, there use way too much Auto-Tune to begin with (as does the universe), but like, why did they even hire that girl if she couldn't sing in tune? Meh.
In other preschooler news, I decided to go all-in and take away the pacifier yesterday afternoon. Fifteen minutes of screaming later, it was apparent that the nap was not happening. Mark apparently got Rosina to bed last night without much trouble, but I have no idea what this afternoon will hold. We have to drop off the Jetta across town for a service once Mark leaves the office, so her nap will be abbreviated either way.
Tomorrow morning: family haircut time! That sounds way more Duggar-y than it actually is. We're all just going together, with Mark's appointment with a different stylist 30 minutes after mine, and Rosina's basically tacked onto the end of mine. She hasn't had a haircut since November (I can maintain her bangs, mostly), and I don't think I've been since February! My split ends are making me sad...
Today is apparently the day I try to catch up on things. I am currently uploading more than 200 pictures to Rosina's Shutterfly site, and it seemed like a good time to get my ass in gear and update my freaking blog already. Poor neglected 13-year-old blog... (My blog has made it to menarche and likes to slam doors and fantasize about...hmm, about whom would an almost 13-year-old fantasize these days? Sadly, I probably fantasized about Kurt Cameron or something. Uh, the singer from Ylvis with the floppy hair? David Wright on the Mets is pretty hot as well.) First thing: I am going to swear. This song totally fucking ROCKS. Like, I can't even. It saddens me that I specifically remember denigrating the White Stripes when they came out, assuming they could not play their instruments. Um, evidence to the contrary, right here. I mean, WHAT WAS THAT. Also, we have had some adventures. We did indeed buy a new laptop--of course, it's taken me three months to actually put photos on it, so there you go... We had a nice visit from my mother, sister-in-law and nieces in early May, then met them and my brother at Sesame Place in late May. We picked just the right time to go, as the temperatures were about 15 degrees below normal (wearing cardigans post-Memorial Day = heaven), and there was a soft-open for a whole new section of rides. We then drove up to New York to visit my grandparents and spend more time with my brother's family. Things did get old with my mother. (Also, kind of seeing a divergence in parenting styles here: my mother gave my then-16-month-old niece a timeout for biting. Can a baby that young even understand that kind of thing?! Ugh.) But we survived. I even managed to drive back alone with Rosina (over two days--there was a lovely visit with the squishy and adorable Maddie in between legs), since Mark had to fly home after a few days. Once we returned, it was time for potty training boot camp. We would've preferred it happen organically, but with her having already turned three, it probably wasn't going to happen on its own--plus she had to be ready in time for preschool in September. It was a rough first week, with lots of accidents everywhere. Just when I was beginning to doubt it would ever catch on, I had an elucidating conversation with Rosina (benefit of training late: your kids can tell you what's up): we were talking about poop, as you do, and where different people and kids that she knew pooped. When I asked her where she pooped, she said, "In my diaper!", tugging on her training pants. That's when I realized that she thought training pants (actual Gerber ones, plus some underwear I tricked out with padding) were just a really ineffective diaper. Eureka! She went commando for the next three days, and finally figured it out! And the first week wasn't really a waste, as it got her really used to the ritual. (Including the reward M&Ms and stickers.) It hasn't been perfect--today she peed ALL OVER the bathroom floor because she timed it wrong--but that was the first real accident in a few weeks. (She is still in a diaper at night and for her nap--she's a big sleeper--but we may be ready to eliminate the latter soon.) We did learn that we need to carry around her foam seat because she's scared to sit on a toilet without it (legitimately--she is still quite small), but I can deal with that. Anyway, long story short, POTTY OUT, we are awesome, etc. Having to spend two weeks at home cleaning up pee was actually fairly convenient, as my old modern dance-acquired plantar fasciitis decided to act up. It was really bad for about a week, and even now it's not great. I think it was from wearing two different pairs of summer shoes that were both too big and had zero arch support. Anyway, for the past month I've only been in sneakers equipped with surprisingly helpful Dr. Scholl's inserts, and I've been doing lots of stretching. In other health news, I did actually get my act together and make some long-overdue doctor's appointments. My new GP seems very nice, though I haven't spent much time with her yet. My reproductive endocrinologist is really great--an actual published expert on PCOS, among other things--and we have a game plan going forward. (I'm currently back on my old pill, Yasmin, as well as going on extended-release metformin since the regular stuff made me so sick for so long. All of my bloodwork came back fine--even my testosterone levels were normal, which was unexpected--and I will have a follow-up in a few weeks, along with a gynecological surgeon to talk about possible surgical intervention. The more I think about it, since I'm basically on hormone replacement anyway, perhaps a hysterectomy and/or oophorectomy would cause unnecessary side effects, and laporoscopic ablation/cyst-zapping would be more beneficial--plus I won't be housebound for six weeks. Jeez.) I also finally saw an orthopedist about my flared-up bulging disc. I'm in PT right now, and the exercises do help a lot, but I still wake up stiff and sore every morning. I just cannot get the hang of sleeping in a normal human position that doesn't result in numb arms or a very sore neck. Still working on that. Fiber news: I did indeed start a fingering-weight cardigan, Zora, right around Rosina's birthday. I've finished the back and started one of the fronts, but haven't worked on it in a bit--with the Yarn Harlot doing her own biking this year, I didn't even think about the Tour de Fleece until I heard on the radio that the Tour de France was starting. So I'm back working on my pretty green Unplanned Peacock stuff (merino?). The other things I've worked on in recent memory are a reknit pair of socks for Mark (huge gauge mistake in the ones I made him for Christmas), a few starfish washcloths...and the other day I converted a singleton sock into a new steel water bottle sleeve. Yesterday I used some of the extra yarn to knit a new sock for my trashed sock blocker keychain sock. Um, what else? I'm making dinner--attempting baked lentil falafel tonight. But in closing, look at this picture.
(Somehow this never posted like, sometime in May? It was my initial reaction to people talking about the Game of Thrones finale. I don't even follow this show, and haven't read the books. I just got really pissed about it, and still am, actually.)
Can we talk about the concept of spoilers? Because I'm freaking tired of it. When people are bitching about spoilers for a previously-aired TV show based on a book, I think things have gone too far. And how about YouTube web series based on classic literature (e.g. Lizzie Bennett Diaries, Autobiography of Jane Eyre)? People actually complain about spoilers in the comments. For a freaking TWO-HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD BOOK. What is wrong with the world?!?! I declare a moratorium on spoilers, forever. Remember the early '80s, before people had VCRs? If you were in the bathroom when J.R. was shot, your friend would have to fill you in on the details. If you didn't watch the football game live, you had to read about it in the newspaper. The next morning! (My brother is really annoying about this, since he'll stop a game mid-broadcast. God forbid anybody tell him what happened in the ten minutes he was gone!!) I am a full eighteen months behind on Doctor Who, thanks to not having cable and Netflix not getting their act together and finally making the discs available, but you know what? I know there's a new companion. I know there's a new Doctor. Am I running around with my fingers in my ears screaming about SPOILERS?! Nope. Because I am a grownup. And I suppose we even have River Song partially to thank for the prevalence of the concept. Okay, I will edit my statement: not "spoiling" something is only acceptable in the case of time travelers, or some sort of Temporal Prime Directive. Are you a time traveler from the past, or otherwise temporally displaced? No? Then SHUT THE HELL UP. I'm gonna give away the whole plot of the Scandal finale just to spite your annoying ass. (P.S. Harrison is probably going to be killed off. OH NOES, SPOILERS.)
