Suck

Long ago, and far away, Dylan picked up Moby from the Boston Animal Rescue League shelter. His assessment of Moby's attitude was "I'm not going to suck up to you, but could you get me outta here, dude?"

Nothing much has changed over the years, except that we kept our part of the bargain. A minute ago, Moby went to get in my lap, decided not to, I picked him up for a hug, and he returned the hug, then jumped away. Enough is enough, apparently. He is not going to suck up to me. I respect that.


They don't post enough, but Terrible Real Estate Photos does amuse.


Grey and murky day. Air downright chewy. Not as bad as Beijing is not enough.

Solarized

Air no good.

I hesitated to say anything, but since all seems to be progressing, there seem little point. We have an opportunity to go solar, without the up-front $10K+ investment. A local/regional company decided to modify the car buying system. Buy now, when you need it, pay us on a monthly bill.

No payment for 12-18 months, based on tax rebates for green improvements, which will cover the bulk, with monthly installments after to them instead of a similar amount to coal-fired power company. And they do "bumper-to-bumper" service, check the roof, electrical, permits (complicated by us living in a Historical District*),albeit a low rent one (Central City), 25 years guarantee and maintenance, monitoring. They went through the rigorous process of solar panels for Real Salt Lake's soccer stadium, so they are legit and reliable. Local electrical power company has been raising rates madly, so jumping now is our best bet for later.

Still net-metering, because the batteries needed to go completely off grid are just not up to snuff... yet. We are in a good location, good roof angle, not too many trees. They came to check said roof this morning. So far, so good. They like our attic, for one. We had the closet with attic access cleared on Saturday, nothing in there but the vacuum and a couple of step ladders.

So far, they have behaved like our beloved real estate agent. There is a sense of professionalism and genuine caring. We could be wrong, and have certainly considered that we might be being suckered, but so far, so good. Laid our bets, taking our chances. A real pro, though, has pride, and reputation, which is worth gold.

And yes, Auric, like Auric Blowfeld. Gold, Au. Hoping they aren't supervillains. Seems unlikely. Just our paranoia acting up.

Air terrible today. More incentive to keep going with this. One less thing. Blog full of links, too.

Blechghth.





*The Historic District thing was not mentioned when we bought the house.

Bookends

Why does Eleanor sit butt-up? No idea. Cat thing.

Sun is bright, and orange. Yup, it's inversion season. Terrible to breathe, but the light is pretty.




Some earlier posts.

Added the Other links gadget below. This space has gotten too huge not to have a sampler tray.

Warm

The heating pad is not on. The sun is.

Dirt in the pot outside, and brought it in, baked it(200˚F, 20 minutes.) Keeps down the bugges and fruitflies. Growing wheat grass for cats, a leek, and seeds from a mix from traderjoes meant for eating, but I want to see if I can grow them. If they don't germinate, that's fine, I'll add them to my breakfast cereal.



Next week is looking the busy I expected from the past week. Catch you on the flipside...

Questioning

Long, long ago, in another lifetime, just back, or a year after, from GWI, I seemed determined to ruin my relationship with Dylan. Raised on turmoil and distrust, I had no idea how to handle real, honest love. I picked at it, expected too much, and not enough. What the fuck did I know?

And John Gottmann showed up on Oprah (of all places) with his Love Map idea. A list of questions to ask of the loved one.

Name my two closest friends.
What was I wearing when we first met?
Name one of my hobbies.
What stresses am I facing right now?
Describe in detail what I did today, or yesterday.

That Dylan could answer so many these of me, astonished me. That I couldn't answer so many for myself woke me up. That I couldn't answer as many of him as I expected saddened me.

I got the book from the library, and we began the game of asking questions, keeping it low key, low pressure. And I cried that I'd nearly thrown him away in my dysfunction and fear. Immediately grasped at any tool to fix what harm I'd done. We worked through it, but the fault was mine.


I've given one of their books at every wedding where a gift from me was called for. I've given their one on raising emotionally healthy children to couples having babies. It's all based on rigorous research, bringing in both healthy and struggling couples and families, monitoring them, coding their interactions. It's not just good ideas, it's evidence based guidance.

Mentioned it to a fellow nurse who gave me a bit TMI about him and his wife. He came in the next day and asked again for the book name. The next day, he comes in brighter and smiling, tells me he got the book and made his wife borrow it from the library, and is making SO much progress. I'm glad, of course. He's a good guy, with... well, he is a bit of a ditz. I really hope he gets his marriage going better, since he obviously loves her and his kids.

My mother used to say "Well, he's got a funny way of showing it!" Which I could as easily say of her version of "love." We often get love mixed up with our own fears and malfunctions. Call various things love that aren't. Saddest of all for me would have been to mislabel the real thing for something disposable. That book was my lifesaver, I grasped it, held it with both hands, never let it go.

We don't do the questions anymore, or rarely, content in our communication and privacy. Dylan is the guardian of my solitude, with the gift of silence. I trust him with my soul, if not to do the dishes in a timely manner. He makes me laugh.

Went for dim sum for lunch, shrimp dumplings, sesame balls, sticky rice in lotus leaf, pot stickers, and I talked about work. Monologue mostly, but it made it easy for Dylan to eat and nod and smile. We later walked, and discussed the possible uses for the former convenience store on our corner. Just hoping it won't be a nail salon. Not sure if it can be turned into a sandwich shop/taqueria, or a neighborhood bar. Hoping they don't make it another convenience store, because it's less than a block away from a supermarket/department store, so it became the place that people banned from the large store could buy cigarettes and beer, and became a front for drugs. Not an ideal customer base, really.

We cleaned the closet with access to the attic this morning. Emptied it of all but a couple of step ladders and the vacuum, so that the solar people can assess the roof for panels. After that, I will explain that sentence.

Starting to plan the summer garden. Still snow, but I so want to go out and dig. Made earwig traps today. Within a month, I hope to be stripping, caulking and painting some of the window frames I can reach.

Pancake

Drugged myself last night, after a week of hot/cold flash riddled sleep, plagued with hamsterwheeling thoughts. I took all the OTC chemicals at hand, and slept heavily, with only a few thin spots, until 0730. When Eleanor noticed, she was up on my sternum for a fifteen minute cuddle and head rub.

Took me a while to gather enough wits to make tea, decided I wanted a pancake. Didn't turn out very well, although the middle was nice. Eleanor, though, found them irresistible. Hopped up on my lap to investigate and sniff. Then approached from the other direction, licked off all the butter, then nibbled at what she could get loose.



I held the plate to keep it from sliding off due to her enthusiasm. Probably not all that good for her, not about to stop her this once.

Weirdness

Worked the last three days, although not long days. Still, disinclined to write when I got home. It's been a weird and stressful couple of weeks. Surgeon conferences this week meant we only had one surgeon today. With six cases, we nearly got in a full day, would have but for a pt who admits he used meth yesterday, maybe the day before... either way, a recipe for death. At least he does admit it, so we cancelled his surgery, and he does seem to get that meth+anesthesia is a suicide attempt. Hopefully, he gets shifted to the Main, where they can better deal with potential consequences.

Visitors up from Moab this week, as well. A nurse and scrub tech in need of experience. We weren't best set up to supply this this particular week. But we did our best for them, and that's not nothing. They felt welcomed, and well cared for, so that's alright.

Wound up working my usual day off, and off my usual day on. Mentioned the Monday Broken OR issue, and our new manager assured us she would back us up if we felt it appropriate to pull the fire alarm. The Fire Marshall asked why no one did, and the real, actual answer is... we aren't used to knowing we have back-up, but now we are and will next time. New manager is... competent, and believes us, and ohgods, how wonderful that is. And she is funny. Real OR sense of humor. We aren't used to that, but are just starting to trust, again.

Working with a very good bunch of folks. There is, there always is, at least one piker, but that's to keep everyone sharp. Which is important. When everyone is good, does their job, it's too easy to assume, and that's not helpful long term. Better to know that anyone can screw up, keeping a slacker among us means we stay wary and alert.

Chatted with my anesthesiologist as well, he steered me toward a TED talk called My Stroke of Insight, which is as good as he says. But more amazing, but not surprizing from him, he mentioned it was a presentation by a neurologist, not a woman neurologist. I do love him, most dearly.


Got home to two cats who wanted food ASAP. Dylan off at work all day, me gone until after 1600, who was gonna feed 'em? Ahhhhhhhhhhh...!

I fed them first thing. Of course.

Granny

Another one by the Falls, with granny*. She looked grumpy, but she was... something else. Feisty, manipulative, religious, meticulous, matriarchal. My opinion of her has changed so much over time. Stayed with her one weekend, once. It was painfully awkward. She visited my parents' house a few times, which was stranger still. She spent hours in prayer, on her knees, every day, for a start. My mother was a faithful Catholic, but not to that degree. She sent cards for every occasion, kept a rolodex with all the children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, with birthdates and anniversaries, and a box of all occasion cards. If I felt valued, it was perhaps more as a dollar to a hoarder than loved for myself.

Not that I blame her. She had a long and trying life, beginning in 1890. An alcoholic husband, grinding poverty, three children dying in infancy, first son drowned (possibly suicide) at 17, at least ten pregnancies that I know of. Who knows what else, what other stories I've never been privy to. Tough old broad. Lived to be 95, and they took her cane away from her a week before she died because she was hitting people with it.

Don't think I ever felt any warmth toward her, but she had my respect. Her age and status in the family meant I held her in the kind of awe of a Saint or Martyr. I was 72 years her junior. I thought it very funny that this rather deaf antique with no sense of smell, would loudly and odiferously fart. In my opinion - thinking she was getting away unnoticed. I now suspect she just didn't give a damn. I was never her target, although Aunt Evelyn was - never that I witnessed personally. I was aware she could rip a victim to shreds. For me, she was distant and revered, not entirely real.

She bought those awful waxy chocolate covered marshmallow cookies with the disgusting red jam in the center, lurking unbidden on the cardboard cookie. Especially for me. I detested them, but she kept very little food at home, so when I ate them out of sheer hunger, she thought them my favorite. I never dared tell her. When I eventually told my mother, she never dared tell her mother, either. So, I ate at least one of those abominations every time we visited until she moved to the care home. Where she watched Mass on TV every day, as well as going to the church next door, every day.

This may well be the source of my distaste for, and distrust of, religious women. I find them frightening and baffling. I feel I need to reserve myself from them, never let them close. They are uncaring and dangerous. Their god before any human feeling.

Still, that my granny remembers taking a horse drawn sleigh across the frozen Detroit River in winter, means a link to history that I treasure. That they frequently moved apartments to skip out on rent, softens my judgement of her. She survived, at whatever cost. Only three of her children outlived her.

Please, let me not live that long, if there are any gods to hear and intervene. If there aren't, be sure, I will take it into my own hands. Not putting up with that shit.


Yeah, I have a streak of her in me.








*Not in any way an Annie.

Swing

I loved, loved, loved swinging.

Not sure if that hung from the tree, or an unseen frame, but I suspect a limb. That tree had to be cut down early in my childhood, which was a memorable adventure. That my parents took out that tree themselves is rather astonishing, even with uncle-ish assistance. Huge branches, masses of leaves, amazing. Sad to lose it, but I'm sure it was for a definite reason. Can't imagine them going through that for anything idle.

Anyway, Happy Groundhog Day!

I suspect we shall have a bit more winter, here. Unlike last year. Bitter wind today. Feeling unwell from the morning fumes. Asked to work Wednesday instead of tomorrow, shifting about staff to deal with the snake-meal. Glad of this, since it would be nice to have a day for my lungs to recover from whateverthehell I was breathing this morning.


Mostly Cloudy
26°F
-3°C
Humidity 65%
Wind Speed NW 14 MPH
Barometer 29.87 in
Dewpoint 16°F (-9°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Wind Chill 14°F (-10°C)
Last update 01 Feb 5:35 pm MST

And, apropos of the reason I keep shutting the radio off in the car (see NPR.org),

'What I was going to say,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, 'was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.'
'What is a Caucus-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
'Why,' said the Dodo, 'the best way to explain it is to do it.' (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, ('the exact shape doesn't matter,' it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no 'One, two, three, and away,' but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out 'The race is over!' and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, 'But who has won?'
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, 'everybody has won, and all must have prizes.'

-L. Carroll.

Smeary

One of the few photos I have for which I have no memory, no story. A cousin's wedding, but the one I remember being told it was, her sister tells me it couldn't have been. Wrong year entirely. Don't know who the flower girl was, either.


Still, always enjoyed my cousins, all on the maternal side. Only one paternal side cousin, I was her flower girl.



Some cousins. Uncles, brothers. Me in my pjs. And shoes.

Fustercluck

Some days, you just sorta know, even if you don't know what you know.

Next time, P will pull the fire alarm.

We all smelled it, not exactly smoke, but a petro-chemical-electrical fire smell. Thickest in the ORs. I was already well done setting up, not open, scheduled as second case. So, I was waiting. Maintenance not helpful, but someone had called the Fire Marshall. Our anesthesia director is... well, he errs on the side of "what the hell, give it a go!" And for the most part, that works for him, because of his level of experience. Today, not so much.

Running three rooms, he told his residents to bring patients back to the rooms before we'd gotten an all clear. An All Clear that Did Not Arrive. The staff all knew, which is why we weren't open. So, we had to open in a rush, while the anesthesia residents were told to bring patients in. All those sterile supplies. We knew, we told them, we were ignored. Next time, we pull the alarm, and stand our ground.

Because when the Fire Marshall arrived, we got shut down good.

Positive air pressure in an OR is vital, clean air in, pushing out. Not air from wherever pushing in, to sterile fields and open wounds, you see. Not to mention it stank of plastic/tarry smoke, even if we couldn't see smoke.

Eventually, patients shunted back to pre-op. We closed up, got case carts ready for the next day, threw away a bunch of expensive supplies that the nurses and techs knew damn well we shouldn't have opened in the first place. Two cases shifted up to the Main Hospital, the rest cancelled to be re-scheduled. The next few weeks will be all about dealing with the bunching up.

All of us stayed a while, to know what the deal was, and left with sore throats, twitching eyes and headaches. Lovely.

It seems that a belt in the air exchange room went out, blew smoke into the ORs, ruined some ball bearings, and other parts that need to be shipped in, and putting it together will be A Big Job. Hopefully, back to work tomorrow afternoon, unlikely for first thing in the morning. We await texts. Already offered to work Wednesday.

What a fuster. Crap Occurs.

Oh, and it snowed a bit. Mostly south of us, where it's unusual.

Grimy

Grime, see?



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



Eleanor unimpressed.



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

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

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

Texas

Voog and me in the barracks. A lifetime ago.

Clearing

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



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




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



About 9AM.




About 3PM. And Our Friend Plow.

Gluing the panel back on the oven door.



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

Attenuated

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

Went home with a low level post-adrenaline reaction.

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

There aren't always answers.

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

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

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

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

Slickers

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

Rapids

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



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

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

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

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

Botches

Lucy's hatbowl reminded me of this image.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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





*Ppptttuui.

Loge

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

Grin

Happy in my work.

Presents

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

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



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



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



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

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

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