Vegetable incompatibility

So here's a weird one to consider. How important to you is it that the person you spend the rest of your life with shares the same tastes in foods as you do? Food allergies don't count. We're just throwing those right out. I'm talking about the president who won't eat broccoli or green beans. Would you marry someone who loved steak if you were a vegan? Probably not, but how far do you take it?

A few years ago I was visiting my sister while she was pregnant with my nephew and we decided to get pizza for lunch. She got really excited at the prospect of getting mushrooms on the pizza, a staple of pizza toppings in our home growing up. We ordered from a funky Austin pizza place and I was thrilled to be able to get artichoke hearts, spinach and roma tomatoes on the pizza, but my sister was just excited about the mushrooms. Why? Because my brother-in-law doesn't like mushrooms. Did you know this when you married him, I asked, believing that this would obviously have to be some horrible personality flaw that must have been kept hidden until it was too late to annul. But she did. In my confusing world of singleness, I couldn't quite understand how one could so calmly put aside their preference for pizza toppings and pasta sauces. I mean, seriously, isn't that one of the very early dating screeners ~ pizza preferences? You can put up with a lot for an otherwise perfect man, but someone who never lets you get your favorite pizza is really pushing it. I always thought it was rather serendipitous that my college boyfriend and I both really loved Hawaiian pizza. But then again, what do I know. Turns out, I'm allergic to pineapple.

And so I've been going along thinking my sister is the only one playing vegetable martyr (and she does play martyr well, I should add) when I'm having dinner over at a college friend's house and she announces that the reason she's cooked Mediterranean vegetable rissotto for me is because her husband hates peas. (He happens to be in Bucharest.) Now I could live a very happy life without peas. I like them, but my existence is in no way marred when they're missing from my routine. My friend, however, is apparently quite fond of them. Seeing a pattern?

This all gets me thinking, what would I give up? Hawaiian pizza is an easy one. No effort at all, in fact. But zucchini and spinach ~ not gonna give those up! Yes, I'm one of those freaks who puts zucchini in pasta sauce and lasagne and I've even been known to throw it in chili. There was even a burrito place where I went to grad school that had grilled zucchini burritos! Those babies rocked! And in Washington, there were spinach burritos, equally rocking! (Well, there was a spell following a lithium induced regurgitation of a spinach burrito that turned me off them for several years, but that's just not something worth dwelling on.) Prior to that and then many years later, when I returned to Burrito Brothers, the spinach burritos rocked!

So, I suppose, while I'm in the process of not looking (note the continuity of this blog) I will make a point of not looking for someone who is vegetably compatible.

And they say I'm too picky!!! Seriously...

What is it about health prevention that gets our moral value panties in a bind????

The article (as always from the New York Times) linked to today's blog concerns the recent FDA advisory board's unanimous approval of a vaccine for HPV. For those of you not in proverbial "KNOW" HPV is human papillomavirus, two strains of which (those included in the vaccine) are known to cause the majority of cervical cancer. HPV is an STI (If you missed the CDC changing from STD to STI, you're not alone. I have no idea when that happened!!) and is passed through unprotected sex. Being a virus it can't be treated with antibiotics and testing just became available for it in the last 20 or so years.

Anyway, conventional wisdom is that recommended use of the HPV vaccine (i.e. vaccinating girls at a young age, long before they would be sexually active and making it part of the standard vaccination protocol, eventually including boys as well ~ although the efficacy of the vaccine on males has not been proven, vaccinating males would be necessary to create herd immunity) will most certainly be shot down by the moral majority. Most likely the same people who are keeping plan B medication from becoming available over the counter and the same folks who support a pharmacist's right to refuse to dispense birth control if it goes against his or her value system.

Nice.

It's really tempting to go all "femi-nazi" here and start screaming about how these same pharmacists who refuse to dispense birth control on the basis that they believe sex should only occur for procreation don't seem to have an issue with dispensing cialis or viagra without requiring assurances from those patients that they are using the medication specifically to impregnate their wives. Let's not even mention at this point that there's some question as to whether some of these drugs cause decreased fertility as well!!

We'll just stay on point. Vaccinations, right? Hepatitis B. That would be a virus that is bloodborne and primarily sexually transmitted. It had been screened out of the blood supply long before anyone was recommending the vaccine for persons outside the healthcare arena. Now it's a standard part of the childhood vaccination series. Now think with me here. It's no longer in the blood supply, so no one's getting from a transfusion. It would appear the only way to get it is from unprotected sex!! OH. MY. GOD. We're vaccinating babies against an STI! So what? Do you think we just slipped that one past the Christian Right? It is plausible since they've never struck me as particularly bright or scientifically informed.

But let me toss out a better explanation. Only half the population can get cervical cancer. That would be the people who actually have a cervix. Now let's think about those big mouthed overzealous leaders of the religious right and the moronic neo-conservatives who are running this country into the ground ~ cervix or no cervix? Need I say more?

Well, this is a good sign....

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

You know you've become a complete data/science geek when....

You find yourself yelling at your car stereo because the random selection on the cd player isn't really random. I mean, come on, if it keeps going to the same three songs, it's basically the equivalent of a die that only rolls 1s, 3s and 5s which is definitely not random, completely illegal in Nevada and most Indian Reservations and quite frankly, wonky. (And yes, that is a technical data related term.)

I understand a certain affinity for "Baba O'Riley" and am willing to accept that The Who may in fact have their very own gravitational field. But, this is Japanese engineering!!! Come on, guys!! I'm not willing to accept that your greatest wisdom was conveyed in "wax on, wax off."

Maybe we just need a bit more honesty in the labeling. Instead of randomizer, how about "car selected order"? That would be honest and definitely more accurate. Let's be honest with ourselves, there's no little random number generator inside my car spitting out numbers between 1 and 20. If there was, it would want to know if I wanted repeats allowed or not ~ and man, would that confuse the heck out of someone like my mother!!! Better yet, "driver relinquished control" of song order. That's basically what it is, until I start yelling and hitting the forward button because there's only so many times you can hear "Out here in the field!...." on you way to work.

Ah, geez, this is turning into the whole significance nightmare. If you've been there you know what I'm talking about. It's that need to ask, (whenever anyone tells you that something, anything, is significant), at what level? What's the confidence interval? And what was the power? The sample size?

And this is why geeks rarely have non-geek friends....

A 'Da Vinci Code' That Takes Longer to Watch Than Read

Okay, first of all, if you haven't read this review in the NYT, you're missing some of the best comedy writing of the (at the very least) week! (Go, run, read!!)

I read the DaVinci Code back in the day when it had only been on the bestseller's list for weeks counted in the double digits, ah, the old days. It was interesting and intriguing, no doubt, but as A.O. Scott so aptly points out ~ "Dan Brown's best-selling primer on how not to write an English sentence" ~ was really poorly written. This is not to say that I didn't run out and read all his other books. Angels & Demons is by far my favorite, but that may just because I was raised Catholic and have always been enthralled by conclave.

Anyway, I place Dan Brown in the same category as John Grisham: middle aged men living out their fantasies in novels that have decent stories to tell but really ought to be written by someone else with actual writing skill. (Hello, ghostwriter anyone?) My sister's theory about Grisham is that after he sold his first million books, they didn't feel like expending the budget to have someone edit him, either that or his ego dictated that he didn't get edited.

But seriously, was there anyone actually expecting "DaVinci Code" to be another "Cinderella Man" or "Beautiful Mind"? (Wouldn't Russell Crowe have to be involved for that to happen anyway???) Seriously, with all the talk about Tom Hanks' hair (which you must admit bears a very striking resemblance to Dan Brown's, hello? middle aged man fantasy?), there must have been a real lack of meaty content to discuss. We're not THAT shallow a society, are we? Wait, don't answer that.

In all honesty, I may actually see "DaVinci Code," when it's showing three nights in row on TNT! But just to see Ian McKellen who sounds like he was aware of the ridiculousness of the proposition from the beginning and just enjoyed the ride!


ps. If you like the Dan Brown tales but can't bear his writing ~ I recommend Steve Berry and his books: The Amber Room; The Romanov Prophecy; The Third Secret; and The Templar Legacy.

But your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should.

So, today I walked in the March of Dimes WalkAmerica walkathon in Austin. It was a 5K/3.2 mile walk from the river up to the state house and back again. I raised $235 and got a bit of a sunburn, despite the 35 spf lotion that covered all exposed skin. I feel good about taking part in the walkathon and I support the March of Dimes, but I still have mixed feelings about the whole preemie issue. It goes back to the great Jeff Goldblum quote from Jurassic Park that titles today's blog.

This is what I know. Infant Mortality rates had been declining, but since 2002 or so, they have been increasing. The greatest increase is in the early neonatal mortality rate, the first 7 days of life. What else has been increasing? The use of ART (assisted reproductive technology) and the incidence of multiple births. Twins are common and triplets, quadruplets and even quintuplets aren't a rarity. Why? Science. Human women only have two breasts because they were only ever meant to nurse one, tops two, babies at a time. If we were meant to have litters we would be equipped with six or eight nipples like dogs, cats or rabbits. And for those of you not familiar with multiple birth gestation, you basically expect to lose around 4 weeks for each additional baby. So with twins, you're lucky to carry to 36 weeks (instead of 40), triplets, 32 and so on. Then keep in mind that they're sharing one placenta, not necessarily in a particularly equitable manner, and you're got some really shaking ground to start with. And that's before they even check into the NICU.

But back to the babies dying in the first seven days of life ~ major cause of death? Preterm delivery and very low birthweight. We've taken the NICU treatments as far as we can ~ we've stretched the limits of our technology. When do we start asking the question about whether or not a child was really meant to live? When do we consider palliative care over heroic measures? It can't be a pleasant few hours or days of life with all those tubes coming in and out of you. When we know, KNOW, that we probably can't save them, why do we put these babies through the agony?

Because we're selfish. We don't like death. We do everything possible to avoid it. (Everything, that is except eat properly, exercise regularly and get all the appropriate medical screenings.) When I discuss this with other people, they say that it's different when it's your child, but I still don't see myself wanting my child to suffer needlessly. There is enough of that in life that can't be avoided without inflicting it in on those you love.

Rude, Rude, Rude!!

So I'm having this ridiculously crazy day at work ~ so busy that I can't even get to the online NYT for a little break!! (yeah, how unfair is that??) Anyway, I've been working on this "burden document" for a program (and believe me, they call these puppies "burden"s for a reason!!) And running this marathon lit review for one of my research articles "rapid repeaters" which would be, (for those of you not versed in maternal child health lingo) women who have two children within a twenty four month period. We're looking at characteristics of these women and outcomes for them and the second child. (I'm just trying to figure out how to prevent myself from slipping Britney Spears into my research proposal ~ Talk about rapid repeater!! The woman is 5 months pregnant and has an 8 month old!!! You do the math!)

But back to my crazy day. I get this data request from my boss for a ridiculous amount of data in a very short period of time, so I'm switching gears to start analyzing the ridiculously huge birth file. After some degree of frustration, I decide I need a cold drink. I go down to the cafeteria to get some ice in my plastic cup (10 cents) and instead of walking through the indoor walkways between buildings on the campus, I decide to cut outside (the first time I had seen daylight since arriving at work, I should add) and walk across a courtyard/parking lot. As I'm reaching the entrance to my building, an employee only, must have access card to enter, entrance, a woman with a cell phone approaches me and asks me to open the door for her. I apologize and tell her that it's not a visitors entrance and I'm not allowed to let anybody in, pointing to the signs that say just that. She gets a little belligerent and starts trying to intimidate me. She shows me her "visitor" sticker. Again, I apologize and point to the "Not a visitor's entrance" sign and tell her I can't let her in. So she says she's going to report me. Okay, to whom, I'm thinking? What's your name, she says, grabbing at my i.d. So I hold out my i.d. for her so she can get me name right. I mean, what the hell? I'm supposed to be intimidated by some bitch who is going to tell someone else that I (by name) would not let her into a secure building because that's what I've been instructed to do. Whatever! This becomes a topic of great amusement in my office when I return. No one has any idea who I should be reported to for following the security rules. No one can believe the woman had the gaul to treat me that way.

Well, whatever it is! The next morning when I come into work to finish the data request and get it faxed to where my boss is off site, I find out that my boss has been told that he has to call this belligerent twit and apologize to her on my behalf for my behavior the day before. Seriously? Seriously. How did she track me down in less than 24 hours and find my supervisor who has worked here for less than 6 weeks???? Heck if I know. Luckily, or perhaps because of past experience? I had told him about the incident, kind of as joke. So, whenever whoever called him about it he was able to say, yeah, she told me a really rude woman harassed her because she wouldn't let the woman into an employee only entrance.

Seriously though. Who has time to do that???? I mean, I barely find time to protest when my car is returned to me from the body shop with 300 extra miles on the odometer, the front seats detailed for no apparent reason and the radio tuned to a station I have never listened to. But seriously, who are these people? Do they go around looking for opportunities to be wronged so they can exercise their power???? I think at best this woman is getting an "I'm sorry you got all upset that my employee wouldn't let you into the building when she wasn't supposed to." (I would want to add, I hope you find time to take an anger management class so that you can better control your emotions in the future....)

Speaking of controlling emotions, have I mentioned the cranky pregnant woman I'm living with recently?? Ah well, that's a whole 'nother blog!

I wasn't looking...

Ask married people how they met "the one" and they invariably tell you that they honestly had stopped looking and that was when it happened.

Is this a load of crap? Quite possibly. Do I like that it gives me a reason to stop actively pursuing dates and such? Quite definitely! Have I mentioned recently how much I hate dating??? Have I mentioned the number of times I have been told that there was either little or no spark??? What is this spark thing, anyway??? I *don't* spark. I am the human equivalent of wild fire prevention.

A few years ago, I saw "Monsoon Wedding" and called my mother to complain that she didn't bring me up in a society where arranged marriages were socially acceptable. (Which is only because ~ and stop reading if you haven't seen this marvelous movie yet ~ the guy her parents picked out for her was so much better than the guy she had selected for herself. Had it been the other way around, I would not have been so hot for the idea of arranged marriage.)

Anyway, back on Ally McBeal (another truly pathetic character who probably weighed a good 50-60lbs less than I did and yet I identified with her ~ a theme?) she saw a therapist who told her that she needed a theme song. It was, of course, a very goofy episode as she tried out different songs and found it difficult to walk down the street to different songs, but anyway, the idea has always stayed with me. Life has a soundtrack whether you intend it or not. It just kind of happens and you don't always get to decide what the tone of the music is or when the awful haunting don't-go-into-the-basement music from every 80s horror film comes on. It wouldn't be right if you knew you were making the huge mistake, no dramatic irony.

But there are times when you do get to pick the soundtrack, when you pick your theme song, a mantra that will sustain you through some change or whatever. This Anna Nalick song is mine, now that I'm not looking. Seriously, I'm not.

"In The Rough"

You say you fell while holding diamonds in your hands
"It's your fault for running, holding diamonds," I said
And I offer no sympathy for that
I hear that it was you who died alone
And I offer no sympathy for that
Better off I sparkle on my own

And someday love will find me in the rough
Someday love will finally be enough

I turned around 3 times and wound up at your door
Now you say you know all you did not know before
And I offer no sympathy for that
I hear that it was you who died alone
And I offer no sympathy for that
Better off I sparkle on my own

And someday love will find me in the rough
Someday love will finally be enough

I got your love letters
I threw them all away
And I hear you think that I'm crazy
I'm driving 95
And I'm driving you away
And I shine a little more lately

Someday love will find me in the rough
Someday love will finally be enough

Someday love will find me in the rough
Someday love will finally be enough

I shine a little more lately

It seems appropriate now to end with my favorite Ally McBeal quote: Maybe I'll share my life with somebody... maybe not. But the truth is, when I think back of my loneliest moments, there was usually somebody sitting there next to me.

You GO, Girl!!

So, I'm a Grey's Anatomy junkie. I have to admit that I identify with Meredith, not because my father abandoned me (he's a great guy and we have the best relationship), not because my mother is losing her mind (not as a diagnosed Alhzeimer's patient, anyway, and she usually knows who I am on the phone) and definitely not because of Meredith's sex life ~ I don't think I've gotten as much sex in the last 15 years as Meredith has gotten in the last two seasons!!!

I identify with Meredith because deep down inside, I'm broken on some profound level. I'm never quite sure I'm good enough and I know exactly what it feels like to be lost, in every since of the word. Unlike Meredith, I've learned that there's no easy fix. You don't get to be found by someone. You have to find your own way, which is so much harder, but in the end, the best way to keep from being lost forever.

I had to share this clip from Damage Case that got uploaded onto youtube.com today because it reminded me why I love Meredith so much as well. She has something that I don't, the nerve and courage to stand up to some people and just let them have what's coming....




Since it seems the scene may have disappeared from youtube.com, I'll provide you with the dialog from the scene and you can just picture Meredith Grey (Ellem Pompeo)and Derek "McDreamy" Shepard (Patrick Dempsey) in your head.

Meredith: I never should have told you about George.
Derek: No, its fine, I'm glad I know about him, and the vet. You really get around.
Meredith: What did you just say to me?
Derek: Its unforgivable.
Meredith: I don't remember ever asking you to forgive me.
Derek: So was the knitting a phase? Who's next? Alex? 'Cause I hear he likes to sleep around too. You two have that in common.
Meredith: [she grabs him as he turns to walk off] You don't get to call me a whore. When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was done. So all the boys and all the bars and all the obvious daddy issues, who cared, because I was done. You left me. You chose Addison. I'm all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. You don't get to call me a whore.
Derek: This thing with us is finished. It's over.
Meredith: Finally.
Derek: Yea it's done.
Meredith: It is done.

A New Size for Denim: Extra Tight

Okay, now we're talking about men's fashion here.

So let's play random association, okay? Extra tight jeans? Canadian men in speedos.

Since I was mentioning losses of innocence the other day, let's add this one. I grew up in New England and everyone who ever spent significant time at Northern New England beaches knows one ugly fact (well at least one), Canadian men like the speedo. Now we're talking about the buff, muscular hockey playing Canadian men (I believe they summer at the lakes in Minnesota??) We're talking about the fat, hairy old Canadian men who wear the tight little speedos, sometimes in colors that are transparent when wet, and leave little if anything to the imagination. Yeah, no need to show that diagram of the male genitalia in health class, I've been to Hampton Beach!!

So here's where I'm going with the extra tight, or "skinny," jeans ~ there are some things best left to the imagination or better yet, best left a mystery altogether. I mean, the jeans look great on the five models in the New York Times, but five random guys on the street? Eeek. With that said, I don't think anyone should be forced to see me in skinny jeans either, and they won't, not in this lifetime, anyway!!

I guess, I'm just going to have to take a stand on this one (sure to be a MAJOR issue in 2008) definitely not in favor of the skinny jean.

Well aren't I just giddy with delight?

It appears I have unwittingly stumbled into the topic that is the center of the blogosphere! (Just for the record, why isn't it a "blogsphere?")

Ah yes, the Stephen Colbert performance at the White House correspondents dinner. I thought it was hysterical and I admired him for going on with gusto when the crowd reacted like they were watching their 88 year old grandmother do a striptease. Did they deserve the digs? Most definitely! They've been acting like a bunch of trained carrier pigeons since the beginning of 2002 ~ it took Katrina(!!!!) to remind them that they actually don't report to the administration and they don't have to deliver the story handed to them or strapped to their leg, if we want to stay with my metaphor.

Loved the fact that he said that the administration was rearranging deck chairs on the Hindenberg, not the Titanic. (Especially given the fact that one was destined to for destruction and the other just had some bad luck. I mean, come on, who really thought it was a good idea to place diesel burning engines in close proximity to 200,000 cubic meters of highly flammable hydrogen??? They even had a smoking room, for god's sake!! And don't even get me started on the karma issues involved with it being a Nazi vehicle...)

But back to the humorless press corps... I did my time inside the beltway. Back in the days when I was young and innocent ~ well, not as young and innocent as when I was a Republican and worked for the local party on the election (but that was 1984 and I wasn't old enough to vote, so I couldn't do real damage). Anyway, right after I graduated from college, I went to work for a media relations firm. Now there are several losses of innocence that one experiences in their life, the worst for me was finding out my "pet" frogs were cannibals, but working inside the beltway was another lesser loss of innocence. My first day on the job, as I was being oriented to the computer system and the very important method of billing clients for our time, the president came into the office to talk with account executive working with me. He said it was time to release the research. I was sent off to work on something else while my coworker prepped a package to send over to the Post. The next day a story appeared on the back page of the front page section of the Washington Post. The story detailed the study and mentioned how it had been "leaked" to Post reporters. Leaked. Yeah, by press release with a fax machine!! That was the day I stopped believing in investigative journalism. After two years of "face time," corporate culture where what you could take credit mattered more than what you actually did, the realization that it truly was a rat race (And everyone knows that the problem with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat)and happy hours where everyone drank Amstel Light, I was fully jaded and got the heck out of there. There was something very Stepford-esque about the Amstel Light and I'm still a little creeped out by people who drink it.

Maybe journalists and their editors, publisher and broadcasters have been frightened by the power of corporations after the experience of 60 Minutes and Jeffrey Wigand or maybe that fact that most media outlets are owned by large conglomerate corporations control the news. Either way, one can't help but think that "news" is nothing more that what is handed out in press packets or provided in press conferences. Sure the local folks are listening to the scanners -- it still leads if it bleeds! But the only folks that seem to be working for their material are the stalkerazzi. Maybe that's why we're so obsessed with celebrity news? We can recognize that it's the only real news not being served up to media on a platter. After all, who are you more likely to track down an anonymous source for? Whether Dick Cheney actually requested that Scooter Libby leak the name of Joe Wilson's wife (and you can bet there was a media list involved!!) or the inside story on how Katie Holmes' family really feels about Tom Cruise and Scientology?

The best way to discourage risky behavior is to take away the safety net...

This is a quote from this morning's Times describing the Bush administration's policy on birth control and family planning. What an interesting idea! And it has wonderful cost saving implications all over the place!

Let's get rid of dentists! Maybe people would floss as often as they're supposed to if they didn't have someone to bail them out!! And how about doctors and hospitals? Maybe we'd all finally start eating healthy and exercising, quit smoking, wash our hands, not eat raw oysters or do stupid things with power tools and sporting equipment if we knew there was no one there to take care us when we needed it.

And lets get rid of those rails on the side of the highways! Maybe people will be a little more careful about driving off the road if there's nothing there to prevent them from heading into oncoming traffic, going into a ditch or driving over a cliff. And by all means, get rid of bicycle helmets! Sure, studies have shown they prevent head and brain injuries, but studies, schmudies!! We're talking about discouraging behavior ~ no helmet, no fall off bike! And while we're talking about proven safety features? Seatbelts and baby seats? They only give people permission to drive more recklessly! Think how much more carefully new parents would drive if the newborn was just tossed in the trunk when they left the hospital?

And emergency exits ~ we should get rid of those too. If people knew there was no easy way out, they would be so much more careful about starting fires or having emergencies of any kind (think back to preventing clogged arteries and all that.) And what is 911 and emergency services but society condoning emergencies? By providing a fire department, we're saying it's okay to burn down your house, it's not your responsibility to prevent it or stop it. Maybe people would be more careful if they knew help wasn't just a phone call away. We should definitely take that away, it completely encourages risky behavior. It's an obvious conclusion.

Just like providing plan B over the counter would make American women into a bunch of hussies. (Mind you, it's all about the women because there are no men involved in unwanted pregnancies.) Doesn't it all make perfect sense?

Stephen Colbert Roasts W

Ah, where would we be without the technological advances of the 21st century? I, myself, am addicted to wi-fi, iTunes, my hybrid care and a multitude of other things. One might expect that given my field of work, public health, I would be proclaiming the medical advancements of organ transplant or bipass surgery or how far we've come in saving preterm infants. But no, we get the biggest bang from the simplest things, nothng 21st century about it. Vaccines. Mosquito nets. Potable water. Consistent food supply. The bells and whistles are exstraneous in public health.

But back to the truly great technology of the 21st century. In case you're not a regular C-SPAN watcher (and honestly, who would admit it if they were?) Some good soul has been kind enough to upload Colbert's Roast to Youtube. Rock On, youtube!!








And you have to love the chase scene involving Helen Thomas...

Stoically surviving the side effects

I guess since I've completely outed myself here, I can candidly talk about my experience with mental illness and not feel like anyone is gaining more intimate knowledge.

There's an article in the Times today (link on post title) about a failed clinical trial using an antipsychotic, Zyprexa, to prevent full blown psychotic episodes in adolescents expected to develop schizophrenia. (Little editorial note here: Anyone who thinks that has something to do with multiple personalities can leave right now and spend a little time researching the current DSM ~ google it.) The problem with the study, beyond the very small sample size, was the number of individuals that dropped out. See, Zyprexa, or olanzapine, has a few side effects, dry mouth, sleepiness, dizziness, constipation, but the one that the adolescents just couldn't handle was the weight gain. I believe the average weight gain was 20 lbs or so, for those they were able to keep track of.

Welcome to the world of chronic disease! If the symptoms aren't putting you through the ringer, the side effects certainly will!! We, as a culture, as a medical establishment, are willing to accept a certain amount of suffering in the journey to a cure, it all depends on how bad the ailment it. No one would accept the side effects of chemotherapy to treat a runny nose or a run of the mill head ache, but cancer? Sign me up for a full destruction of my immune system, rounds of radiation, poison, hair loss, vomiting, surgical removal of multiple parts of my body, make me feel like I'm really dying, so I'll appreciate it that much more when I don't!

So where does mental illness fit into all this? It depends where you've been. Have you reached the point of hypomania where your thoughts are moving so fast that you can't complete any of them and the only solution you can see is cutting off your head? Have you stood on a bridge and believed that if you climbed over the railing and stepped off it you would float gently down on the breeze like a leaf or a sheet of paper? Have you ever felt so numb that you begin to believe that you're not real anymore? That you need to cut yourself just to make sure you still bleed? Have you ever packed up every sharp object in your house and made someone else take them home because you just don't feel safe with them around? Have you ever expended ever ounce of your energy just to get out of bed? Have you ever been so close to death that you could smell,feel and taste it?

So, yeah, this is or was, at some point, my life. How many drugs have I been on? Too many to remember, but let's just say most of them. I've been on enough drugs to experience dry mouth, constipation, diarrhea, hypotension, dizziness, hand tremor, urinary retention (a personal favorite), acute hypertensive crisis (with a diet that excludes just about everything in the average American's food intake), nausea, vomiting, hair loss, weight gain (try 65 lbs), excess sweating (a hard one to explain), blurred vision, and last but not least, complete shut down of the thyroid. Have I complained? Actually, not until the thyroid. My mother called my doctor and ratted me out on the vomiting. I was just going to be all brave and compliant. And the drug with the wonderful weight gain, which I started right after losing the weight gained while operating without a thyroid, had no warnings about weight gain when I started taking it ~ it was better than the lithium that didn't agree with my thyroid. Now, of course, it comes with major weight gain warnings and has also been identified as tetragenic. Good to know, huh? And I did the MAOI route, with the diet from hell. Had oral surgery without novacaine (which contain epinepherine) and got a much shorter acting anesthetic instead. Got tired of all the starting and stopping and injections and figured it would just be best to get it over with. Word to the wise: NEVER have oral surgery without anesthetic, lots of anesthetic. I think I scared the hot shot oral surgeon (with an ego the size of Outer and Inner Mongolia) half to death because I looked near death at the end of the procedure. I experienced an acute hypertensive crisis in the middle of class (ate something that contained chicken broth by accident) and instead of going to the ER, popped the rescue drug, nifedipine, and went to my next class to take a midterm. I had studied for the exam and I didn't want to be taken to the local hospital where I would most likely be killed in the ER. Yes, my doctor nearly took my head off. I could have had a stroke. I should have passed out due to the major drop in blood pressure ~ the only thing we can figure out is that my concentration level on the exam prevented it. I also took a final exam with no thyroid function. Not a great experience. But I still got an A.

But what's the point then? I would rather live through all of that again then to have to spend my life experiencing my illness full on. There was a time when I believed that you had to endure a certain amount of suffering to acquire health, like there was some strange balance that must be kept. My psychiatrist blamed the idea on my Irish Catholic upbringing. It's like the Shawn Colvin song, If I Were Brave ~ Is it something you should know, did you never do your best; Would you be saved if you were brave and just tried harder But disease and cure, or treatment (since there is no cure for me), isn't about proving yourself worthy of health. If it was, there would be a cure, wouldn't there?

My mother always told me that life isn't fair ~ she had no idea. But you pick up your pieces and you keep moving forwards. Why? Because you've already seen what's behind you and you have to believe that there's something better ahead, besides, if you did go back, nothing you remember would still be there. Everything moves forward. That's just the way it works. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes the fact that it keeps moving is the only thing that you have to hold on to. Sometimes you can just let go and enjoy the ride, see where it takes you. But you only get to do that when you're not trying to jump off.

I've lost the weight. I don't have the tremor anymore. But my blood pressure is low and my balance is shot. And I'm still exhausted. I also get head aches a lot and migraines too. I still cry a little too easily, but I also laugh and I smile a genuine smile. I'm still frightened of what's coming next, but it seems to be a long ways away, not creeping up behind me. Am I well? As well as I get, I suppose. That's the problem with mental illness. You tend to forget where you end and the illness begins and the people who don't know you well, don't even know there's a difference. But you still know, or at least you hope you remember. The good stuff is much easier to forget. But as long as you keep pushing through the bad, you get more of the good.

My house, update

Wow!!! Can you believe how quickly my house is just coming up! I stopped by and voila!, I had outside walls and windows too!!! SO VERY COOL!!

Carrying Grandma in a ring

A few years ago I inherited my maternal grandmother's engagement ring. It's a beautiful brilliant cut diamond with two diamond chips on either side, one baguette, one a simple square all set in platinum on a white gold ring. My grandparents made a special trip to the diamond district in NYC in September of 1941 to purchase the ring. It was one of the earlier brilliant cuts, cut by hand and it fluoresces blue, a dark cobalt blue.

I started wearing the ring as soon as I got it ~ why should I wait for some guy to give me permission to wear my grandmother's ring? Of course, I wear it on my right hand and I've had it appraised and while it fit me perfectly when I first got it (which just seemed so right) I had to get it resized a whole size down after my year of not eating.

But back to the power of the ring. I'm not talking about a forged-in-Mount-Doom sort of power, just an odd sort of connection to my grandmother, a woman who has probably had a greater influence on me than any other single person. She died just before I turned 20, but that has not changed the course I followed in the last 15 years. Sometimes I feel I need to play her role in family dynamics and sometimes I realize I just naturally am.

There are other times however, when the ring has a mind, a voice of its own. It's a conservative voice much older than my 35 years or a concern for complete strangers that only a mother of four and an ex-police officer could have. It's a voice of confidence in me that used to come in the form of carefully written notes and long distance phone calls. It's not like internalizing your mother, when you're in the dressing room of a clothing store and you hear a voice ask if you're old enough to wear white. Trust me, I have that too.

This is different. Today it asked for something. I was in a shop run by hospital volunteers that raises money for indigent patient care and there was some jewelry made by a Mexican woman. One of the pieces featured an antique religious medal, like the ones my grandmother used to pin to the coats of her children and even me and my sister. The would include various saints to watch over children and to keep us safe and well. I keep several in a dish with a set of rosary beads that my mother bought for me in Rome and had blessed by the Pope. (John Paul, of course) This necklace features a medal of Mary, a favorite of both my grandmother's and mine. I know it sounds like some crazy excuse ~ my dead grandmother told me to buy it. But, she wanted me to have it ~ she spoke to me through it. Okay, so now I sound certifiable.

Let me put it this way. I had this horrific week at work and my grandmother saw this way, apparently, to show support. A way to remind me that she was there. I walked into this store completely by chance, had never been there before, didn't plan to go there. But there was this antique medal of Mary ~ just like my grandmother Mary ~ just when I needed another hand on my shoulder. I could always count on her to come through for me. There's no such thing as coincidences. And people don't just leave you when they die. Thanks, Grandma, I needed this today.

Stealing directly from my friend Monica's blog....

You can check out Monica's blog by clicking on the squirrel button. Sorry for the serious plagiarism, but I just loved this list!!! (besides, cut and paste exist for a reason...)

» 40 Things That You'd Like to Say Out Loud At Work:

1- I can see your point, but I still think you're full of s*%$

2- I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce

3- How about never? Is never good for you?

4- I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public

5- I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to see it my way

6- I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter

7- I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message

8- I don't work here. I'm a consultant

9- It sounds like English, but I can't understand a d#@% word you're saying

10- Ahhh...I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again

11- I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid

12- You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers

13- I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a d!$@

14- I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth

15- I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you

16- Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view

17- The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist

18- Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental

19- What am I? Flypaper for freaks???

20- I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.

21- It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off

22- Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial

23- And your crybaby whiny-a$$ opinion would be...?

24- Do I look like a people person?

25- This isn't an office. It's H@## with fluorescent lighting

26- I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left

27- Sarcasm is just one more service we offer

28- If I throw a stick, will you leave?

29- Errors have been made. Others will be blamed

30- Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed

31- I'm trying to imagine you with a personality

32- A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door

33- Can I trade this job for what's behind door #1?

34- Too many freaks, not enough circuses

35- Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?

36- Chaos, panic, and disorder - my work here is done

37- How do I set a laser printer to stun?

38- I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted a salary

39- Who lit the fuse on your tampon?

40- Oh, I get it...like humor...but different...

Basically, I'm just *feeling* the Dixie Chicks

"Not Ready To Make Nice"



Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I know you said
Can’t you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’
It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

Forgiveness for your own sake

Have you ever had someone do something so horrible that it could have very well ruined your life if there hadn't been people around you to step in and grab hold of you before it was too late? I'm talking about someone actually make a concerted effort to destroy you for nothing more that their own amusement or personal gratification. Someone literally robbing you of two years of your life. Knowing that you health was fragile and pushing you out of remission, to struggle between life and death for months.

So at some point, I'm supposed to forgive this person. Not because they deserve it or have done ANYTHING to make amends or even admitted they crossed a line. I'm supposed to forgive so I can let of all the anger and pain that I carry with me every day. I suppose I should want to let it go. That it is a kind of black hole of ugliness that swallows up my energy and my soul. But is it always wrong to hold onto these lessons as a reminder of what is really out that? To remind yourself that your expectations of what people are capable of are sometimes wholely naive? I wasn't sure evil existed in the forms that I've seen and yet, there it was!

I have a yoga teacher who tells us to focus inward to a small space in our hearts, that one spot that can never be touched by the outside world, can never be harmed, that is the home of all innocence and unconditional love. It is a place from which light emanates and that if we concentrate hard enough on it, the light can fill the darker spaces of our mind and soul. I always feel better when I leave his class. Not a big surprise, I suppose. It's in those times that I believe I am a big enough person to forgive for the sake of forgiveness, for the sake of inner peace.

But then the peace passes and I'm left with my culturally ingrained grudge. It's not that I need to blame someone. The whole point of a relapse is that it happens without provocation, without warning. Perhaps there's a part of me that feels like I haven't really dealt with the whole horrible experience, that I packed my bags (sold my house, loaded a moving van, made a dozen trips to Good Will) and ran away. My sister says it doesn't count as running away if you're running to something, like say, your big sister's guest room and a better job with better pay?

Does doing the right thing absolve you of some of this soul searching? I hope so. Everyone knows that you can either be right or you can be happy. I choose both.

My house.... is a very very very fine house.....

WEEEEEE So there is actually some house to show!!! I can't even begin to describe how cool this is!! I bought my house back in March and it's being built ~ expected closing on July 24th. I went by expecting to see just a foundation, but I have most of the frame up! So, now I'm going to have to keep whoever is actually reading this blog ~ anyone, Bueller? Bueller? ~ updated. Guess I'll post my weekly Saturday visit to my house picture here.

Met some of my neighbors, but that's a whole nother blog entry....

A bit late on the Fib bandwagon...

a little homage to my two year old nephew ....

He
said,
Hon-ney,
what is this
animal here?
Not an ostrich, I said laughing.

Storm Evacuees Found to Suffer Health Setbacks

Once again the New York Times has set me off.... [As usual, click the title of the entry to get to the NYT article]

Okay, so first of all, DUH?!?! Was there anyone (outside of the Bush administration) who thought things were rosy for the Katrina evacuees? Or even better, that perhaps they're doing even better now??? Oh right, when God closes a door, he opens a window. But when you start climbing in and out of windows, people mistake you for a burglar and that's just no good. Besides, what if it's a fifteenth floor window? What is God really saying? Give it up, buddy. Just jump!

But like anyone in public health and especially anyone who has worked in public health preparedness, I was disturbed by the all the people who, months after the disaster, are still without medical necessities. I drives me insane how so few people can latch onto that concept that there are actually people out there that need medication on a daily basis. I guess I've been in that position so long that it seems entirely reasonable to me. But most people just don't get it. There are people, LOTS of people, who actually need drugs, medical equipment, medical care, on an ongoing basis, not just once in a while. Why don't we expect that?

Which brings me back to preparedness. Of course nebulizers were going to be lost. Why would you have held onto something that required electricity when you hadn't seen electricity in weeks? And prescriptions and treatment, why did anyone think the medical establishment would remain consistent? Doctors are funny that way -- they actually consider themselves to be people and do crazy things like have families and in disasters or catastrophes (like when their homes are destroyed) they make their decisions based on the best interests of their families, not necessarily their patients. How wacky is that? If only we could set up some system of indentured servitude like Northern Exposure. Then, we could have our physicians where we wanted them. Of course I'm joking, for the most part. But where is the stockpile of medical equipment to replace what was lost in the storm and evacuation? Surely some medical corporation or conglomerate is in need of a good sized tax deduction and some positive publicity? And what about that medical corps of volunteers? Remember? We vaccinated them against smallpox and everything!! What, was this not enough of an emergency for them?

Wait, don't tell me. Our resources are stretched too thin to fight a war on two fronts ~ until we get out of Iraq we can't go into Louisiana? At the very least, Dick Cheney should be sending his $1.9 million tax REFUND to these folks. That would buy quite a bit of mental health treatment and insulin or even health insurance premiums if the government doesn't get it's act together and pony up some Medicaid benefits for these poor souls.

What? I sound like some bleeding heart liberal or even a socialist. Nah. I just tend to hold the government responsible for the predicament these people are in the first place. You can point your fingers at the Feds, the State, the locals, whoever. You do have ten fingers, after all. And there is more than enough blame to go around!!

So, yes, undisputed fact. We knew, EVERYONE knew, for like 100 years, that the levees could not handle a hurricane. Don't talk to me about dodging the hurricane, etc, etc. Water flows. That's not unexpected. We can even predict when and how high rivers will crest. (Aren't we smart?) So, no, the flooding was not a surprise, it was just a matter of time.

But the poor people, they had no transportation, no money for hotels, no place to go. They couldn't evacuate. Bull. Shit. I think Willie Brown, past Mayor of accident prone San Francisco, put it best when he was a guest on Bill Maher's show. He said that being Mayor is like being principal of an elementary school. When the fire alarm goes off, it's your responsibility to make sure everyone gets out. There were city buses, school buses and even Amtrak trains that could have been used to move people out of the city. There was no reason anyone needed their own transportation -- public transportation just gets retasked. And as far as hotels or family members to stay with, that didn't need to be an issue either. It's called a mutual aid agreement. Cities further inland open Red Cross shelters to take in evacuees. This is all standard protocol for the East Coast states where hurricanes regularly cause mandatory evacuations of coastal areas. Preparedness. It's not that difficult a concept. (Or at least it shouldn't be.... I suppose it doesn't really have a lot to do with horse shows, though?)

She's not really suggesting that hybrid cars don't come standard with moral superiority???

So, I read this article this morning in the online NYT. As the owner/driver of a hybrid vehicle, I was rightfully outraged.

Alright, so I did agree with her on some points. The whole hybrid SUV that gets marginally better mileage than say, a Lincoln Town Car, shouldn't be getting the kind of tax and other breaks that the truly efficient Insight, Prius or Civic get. But consider the kind of tax breaks the Hummer gets. It's size and weight qualify it as farm equipment, so if it's purchased for business use ~ say running a publicist or hair colorist from client to client in traffic clogged LA or Manhattan, ~ the purchaser can still avail him or herself of the same tax break (up to $100K) that a farmer (and I would really love to meet the farmer ~ of a product other than poppies or cocoa ~ who can afford a Hummer)that was meant to help American farmers utilize the advanced farm equipment that made their farms more efficient. I'm sure you've seen the Hummers with the tilling and harvesting features, no?

But back to me and my moral superiority... Feel free to demonize Lexus, but don't drag the rest of us down with the rich and status starved. I bought my Civic Hybrid after my 13 year old Honda Accord died on the side of the road. One of my closest friends from college, whose has a doctorate from Johns Hopkins, Department of Geology and Environmental Engineering, had a Prius already and loved it. (She was actually very excited when they passed an emissions standard in her county. She planned to stick around the service area while they attempted to run the emissions test on her car. She wanted to see how long it would take them to figure out that hybrids don't idle.) I'm a Honda person (my Civic is my third Honda) so I went with the Honda hybrid and I love it!! I've had it nearly two years now and I have very few complaints.

And, for the record my complaints are all rather frivolous ~ since the Civic Hybrid only has a CD player and no cassette, hooking my iPod into the car stereo was at first a little hinky with the early FM tuner technology and in colder climates the windshield wiper fluid lines freeze and do not defrost when you start running the car. The engine just doesn't get warm enough to melt them. This is easily solved by getting the wiper fluid that doesn't freeze or simply moving to a climate where nothing freezes. The battery also lives between the backseat and trunk, so forget about folding down the seats to create more trunk space. But, let's be honest, who buys a Civic for trunk space? When I moved halfway across the country a few months ago (and contrary to this article, I did get over 40 mpg on the highways!) people kept asking me if I was bringing this or that ~ usually a piece of furniture or some other large object ~ my response was always the same. What part of "moving in a Civic" do you not understand??

Yes, I am a scientist and an economist to boot. I realize that I will never actually recoup the extra money I spent for the hybrid engine, but the lessened cost to society as a whole entirely covers my extra expenses. Besides, how cool is it to only have to pump gas once a month?? And you never realize how ridiculously loud cars are until you spend time in a hybrid. One of my old neighbors didn't seem to have any acquaintances who possessed a muffler and it drove me nuts!! She probably considered me the crazy environmentalist nut in the Birkenstocks next door. But truth be told? After living in a bottle bill state for 4 years, I refused to recycle, just because I could.

Granted, you spend the first year or so driving a hybrid completely mesmerized by the charging and assisting bars and actually being able to see the gas mileage that you're getting right at that very moment! Unfortunately, it only goes up to 120 mpg, so even coasting down the largest hill you can't get the huge thrill of driving 400 mpg or something (Hope you're reading this Honda engineers....)

As for the moral superiority thing ~ that's strictly from West Wing, but I can't help but get a little obnoxious when I pass those big ass gas guzzling SUVs on the highway!! Especially, when my car is getting some ridiculously high mileage! Yeah, I feel morally superior, who would have thunk they could have packaged that in a car??

DNA testing for Genealogy

There's an article in today's New York Times ~ my favorite paper for those of you keeping track. It's all about the new use of DNA testing to identify a person's ethnic background. Dare I admit I'm intrigued?


I mentioned a while back when my grandmother died that her father was a bit of a mystery. I never knew him. His wife was 94 when she died and I was maybe 9. I've heard hundreds of stories about him and his use of scare tactics (mostly involving waving a broom) to coral cows (they're very easily startled) and I've seen what remains of his farm ~ the stone foundation of what must have been a tiny house and a little bit of a broken down barn. I don't know how he met my great grandmother. I don't know what kind of father he was to my grandmother or my great aunt Hazel or my great uncle George (who I honestly don't remember at all.) I know they were poor, that my grandmother married up into a family with a house in the village proper. She used to say "No one ever starves on a farm." But I always got the idea, even as a child, that her sentiment was meant to be ironic. There was a reason she went to work after eighth grade. I'd like to think, just like every other decision she made, that it was her choice. But like I said, I really know nothing about her father. If anyone is shrouded in myth, he is the one.

I do know the stories. My sister and I apparently got all our musical talent from him. He was a one man band ~ you know, with the harmonica and drum foot pedal and either key board or guitar. No one else in the family could play an instrument or sing even. I remember being told in complete seriousness that he had been dragged down from the mountain in ropes ~ a wild man brought into civilization against his will. But when I'd mention it again, I'd be told that it was just one of his stories. One thing I was told that no one denies is that he was a dowsey, a water witch. He used a Y shaped stick to find water for people to dig their wells. When I was I child, I'd play in the back yard with a stick to see if I had inherited his gift. I'm not sure what I expected to find ~ some undiscovered spring in the Boston suburbs?

But back to the original topic. One of the stronger myths, along with the water witch, was that he was part Mohegan, Iroquois. My grandfather collected Indian artifacts, which could be completely unrelated or not. He could have gotten his peace pipe from his father-in-law, I have no idea. But, if my DNA can tell me whether my great grand father actually was an Indian ~ can actually tell me if at least one of the stories is true. Isn't it worth it?

Do you ever get the feeling that you're just talking to yourself?

I constantly do.







I was just wondering if anyone else did....

You Have A Type A- Personality

You are one of the most balanced people around Motivated and focused, you are good at getting what you want You rule at success, but success doesn't rule you. When it's playtime, you really know how to kick back Whether it's hanging out with friends or doing something you love! You live life to the fullest - encorporating the best of both worlds

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

Karma's a bitch!!

And don't you forget it!!

So that horrible woman who terrorized me for 9 months as my boss has finally gotten what she deserves. The best part? Not only did I have absolutely nothing to do with it, but even in my wildest revenge fantasies, I could never have come up with something this wild.

Seems she was summarily fired, very publicly. Why, you ask?

Let me tell you a little story. There once was a very rich man. He invented a machine that rolled cigarettes and invented cigarette paper or something along those lines, but he was very, very rich. When he died, he left his huge estate and property to the city. A foundation was created to maintain the mansion, the gardens, the surrounding park and a nature center that was stocked with animals indigenous to the state.

Many, many years later, a woman and her four year old son were eating apples outside the bear habitat. Somehow, there are conflicting stories, the little boy got past the four foot barrier between the viewing area and the actual cage and reached his hand in the cage to try to pet one of the black bears. Apparently smelling the apple, the bear nipped at the little boys hand. Several hours later, the little boy was treated and released at a local ER. He didn't even require stitches.

The response from the health department was to euthanise both bears, since they couldn't be sure which one bit the child and they couldn't test them for rabies while they were still alive. The citizen response was quick and violent. People were more upset about the loss of the bears than they had been about the last hundred homicides in the city!! The mayor publicly denounced the euthanizing of the bears and demanded an inquest.

So, as a former insider and a person who would have been directly involved with this fiasco had I not gotten the hell out of there, let me offer a few thoughts. The kid could barely have been scratched by the bear ~ a true bite would have taken off a four year old's hand. There have only been a handful of cases of rabies in black bears ever. If they had been exposed to a rabid animal, they would have killed it, leaving a carcass in their habitat and none was found. Rabies prophylaxis is no longer injections into the stomach, it's now a series of four shots into the arm. Not that big a deal. City policy is to quarantine an animal and watch it for signs of rabies, not automatically euthanize it. There was no effort made to do that with the bears. Basically, the pooch was summarily screwed.

The whole city hated her. She was sent packing ~ it was about time.

Which reminds me of the post script I left off my letter of resignation.


Watch your back. Karma's a bitch.

And yet it explains so much...

Your Quirk Factor: 66%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

How Quirky Are You?

My current iPod playlist -- How to Save A Life

How to Save A Life

1. Closer ~ Josh Radin
2. Adelaide ~ Old '97s
3. Always Love ~ Nada Surf
4. How to Save A Life ~ The Fray
5. For you i will (confidence) ~ Teddy Geiger
6. World Spins Madly On ~ The Weepies
7. If We Cannot See ~ Devics
8. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a little More "Touch Me" ~ Fall Out Boy
9. Wisemen ~ James Blunt
10. Catalyst ~ Anna Nalick
11. Look What You've Done ~ Jet
12. Change Your Mind ~ All American Rejects
13. Maybe It's Just Me ~ Butch Walker
14. Here's to the Night ~ Eve 6
15. Goodbye My Lover ~ James Blunt
16. Here Comes Your Ride ~ Holidays on Ice
17. Inside of Love ~ Nada Surf
18. Today Has Been Okay ~ Emiliana Torrini
19. All Will Be Well ~ Gabe Dixon
20. Dirty Little Secret ~ All American Rejects

A Note on "Compact" Cars

I've just started a new job. I know, very exciting. But before I go into any of the exciting details of my new job and my new life, I need to vent a little.

At my new office we have a parking garage where a significant portion of the parking spaces are marked "compact cars only." Now, I understand that I now live in Texas and that the generally accepted definition of "compact" is the difference between an F-350 and an F-150, but unfortunately, civil engineers prefer to go with the other definition of compact. So let me try to help y'all out a little here.

Compact cars are typically foreign (although not always), they have no towing capacity, they frequently have a two-door and/or hatch back option, people over six feet tall generally avoid sitting in the back seat and they are absolutely worthless in any kind of farming or ranching operation. A few guidelines: if your vehicle is an SUV, not a compact; Having "mini" as the first part of your vehicle's title only counts if the second part is "cooper", generally speaking, the whole "van" thing negates the "mini"; if your vehicle has four wheels on the rear axle, not compact; if you get to pay the lower registration fee because your vehicle weighs at least half a ton or qualifies as a farm vehicile, not a compact; and going back to the towing capacity rule, if you've got towing capacity, not a compact. And for those of you needing special attention: Ford Exposition, anything made by Lincoln or Cadillac, not a compact!

Apparently you didn't escape Virginia soon enough....

Your Linguistic Profile::

45% General American English

40% Yankee

5% Dixie

5% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

The goat

I'm on the road to my new "home" (also known as my sister's guest room) and my father and I are driving the 1500 miles from my house to her house in my Civic Hybrid. The movers cames two days ago to empty my house ~ it seems like a lifetime ago. And we finished cleaning and cramming other things into the tiny little trunk of my car. I actually packed the car, in the pouring rain. I got so soaked that I needed to get my bag out of the car and change clothes before we could head off.

The first night was a nightmare. We left later than planned. I hadn't gotten ANY sleep in days and driving over Afton Mountain in a storm is a nightmare and a half ~ add to that the gas light going on and my tank indicator reaching empty for the time ever ~ I was convinced the car would die and we would be stuck on Afton Mt in the middle of the storm, well after dark ~ Happy New Year!!

Obviously we made it. Night two was in Memphis and tonight we're in Little Rock. I have officially driven through every major city in Tennessee, not that it was ever a particular goal of mine, but I have now done it!!!

There is a point to all this, a goat in fact. While we've been driving (my father actually has taken the wheel since my near nervous breakdown on Afton Mt) I've been taking advantage of Verizon's free cell to cell minutes. Nearly the entire family has Verizon so we're really getting our money's worth. I think this story is probably funnier if my Dad were to tell it since hearing just the one side of the conversation made it all that more "monty python-esque." But, he doesn't have a blog, so you're just going to have to live with my story.

Anyway, big adventures back in NH. There was a snow storm overnight, not a big deal, but when my mom looked out the window, she saw fresh footprints leading around my parents' house. She went to look out the front and there are fresh tire tracks in the driveway and foot prints leading to the back of the house. My mom goes down to the basement to make sure no one has broken in through the window in the back yard or anything, but nothing is disturbed in the basement. Now after conferring with several neighbors, she decides to call the police, not the emergency number, the other one, to report suspicious activity. So a little bit later, a cruiser pulls into the driveway and two officers get out. It turns out the tracks were left by the police. There was a break-in at the 7 Eleven down at the end of the street the preceding night, by a goat, and the police caught up with the goat in my parents' yard and chased him around the house where he escaped into the woods.

Yes, you read correctly. A goat broke into the 7 Eleven. And no, the police department of my hometown was unable to capture it. But aparrently it was no ordinary goat (not that the breaking and entering would have in any way tipped you off to that) It is an enormous white horned goat. (My father later provided more of his infamous animal expertise to mention that all goats have horns, both male and female.)

I'm sure there will be more to this story.....

Not an ostrich....

So leave it to Fisher Price to still keep 'educational toy' from becoming an oxymoron. This Christmas I, or rather Santa Claus, got my nephew the new Little People ABC Zoo from Fisher Price. He loved the ark so much last year that something with more animals or guys as he refers to them, seemed like an obvious choice.



For those of you not up on the current selection of Fisher Price toys, the ABC Zoo consists of 26 Little People Animals, each one with a name that starts with a different letter of the alphabet. They all have the first letter of their name on their chests which in turn correspond to the little floor mat with a trail of all the letters in alphabetical in a trail through zoo habitats. When you press on one of the letters, it makes the animal's sound. Press on it a second time and it says the animal's name.

My nephew is thrilled with this new toy. NEW GUYS!! And he spends most of Christmas morning using the animals to press the mat and make the noises and here the female voice enunciate their names. "Flamingo" he repeats, "iguana, dolphin, yak, nightingale, koala, xray fish, rhinoceros, jaguar, seal, camel, vulture, ostrich, urial" He giggles while saying each new word. My nephew's vocabulary has expanded by 15 words in one morning!! (And we all have to admit that we can't even guess on which continent one might find a urial. It's a wild sheep found in the mountains of Northern Asia, for those of you who are interested.)

When his grandparents arrive, he holds up each of his new guys and proudly announces their species. Not even two, and he's getting them all right. Grandparents are amazed. We start playing a game. Every time he picks up an animal, we ask him what animal it is. He complies for a while but then loses interest and rebels. "Not an ostrich," with a mischievous grin becomes his stock answer.

TSA is ON the job...

I know a lot of people have been talking this holiday season about the new TSA guidelines that allow scissors and four inch knives into the passenger cabins of American planes and whether or not that actually is making us safer or putting us in danger of those folks who desparately need to wrap their gifts since they couldn't get through security with them wrapped....

Well, TSA has uncovered yet another potential threat to the American skies ~ domestic animals traveling in cargo areas.

Specifically, my eight pound half yellow tabby, half maine coon cat... She's not a particularly good traveler and even less of a people person. So we're at the Delta check-in, mind you I'm flying Delta so that I will be connecting through Atlanta and not Pittsburgh or Chicago or somewhere else my cat might freeze her tuckus off, and we're told that we have to wait for a TSA agent to check out my cat's box before I can leave her there. Now, the cat, who was not easily gotten into said box, has to come out in the main area of a very busy airport just a few days before Christmas, and she's really not having any of it. When I finally tug her out. Her expression is definitely one more of flight than fright. I have to keep a firm hold on her hind hips just to make sure she doesn't take off for another destination and this is no easy task.

When the TSA agent finally saunters over, heck, he's in no rush! He's all gloved up (which always just cracks me up.) He proceeds to reach into the box/cage and rifle through her padded bed and her little toys all the while checking on me to see if any of this makes me nervous. And then, before he lets me put the cat back into her little nest in the box, he actually pats down the cat, as if she might be carrying a concealed weapon?!?! She has teeth and claws, why would she need anything else? Why not check her for explosive residue?

You know, I have heard Al Qaeda is beginning to use cats. You know, because they're so easy to train and control and all. They have an entire herd of them just waiting to attack!!!!

You Should Get a PhD in Science (like chemistry, math, or engineering)

You're both smart and innovative when it comes to ideas. Maybe you'll find a cure for cancer - or develop the latest underground drug.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

It's official -- My cat's a gay man!!

So again, this is probably my fault.

A few years ago, after purchasing one for my brother-in-law (Scientific America, I believe), I decided to get myself one of those gift subscriptions for Real Simple that Barnes & Noble used to sell. When I went to fill out the card, I felt a bit ridiculous listing my own name as "recipient" and "gift giver," so I made my cat, my female cat, the recipient.

So, the cat's got a subscription to Real Simple. Not a big deal. The cat starts getting junk mail. My indoor cat is a member of The National Geographic Society!!! (Can you blame her?) My cat is pre-approved for an American Express card!!! (And it's about time she started chipping in!!) Martha Stewart wants to sell things to my cat!!! My cat can get the first few issues of In Style for free!!! My cat is getting offers for all sorts of home related magazines and very strongly feminine catalogs. We're both girls, we're fine. But then St. Jude's comes along. They want cash, from my cat. And they think they can guilt it out of her by sending her some personalized return address labels. For some reason they NEED to put a title on the labels for my cat (Admiral would have worked!!) and despite all previous marketing to the contrary, they've chosen "Mr." WTF???!

So St. Jude's lost out. They don't take American Express, not that we got the card.

Priceless!!!

Evan Picone "poppy" colored cocktail dress: $32.90 (including tax on clearance at Dillards)
"Appropriate" bra that will probably leave a rash: $12.99 (+tax at Target)
Perfect red Soho nice to meet you OPI nail polish for toe nails: $7.50


Looking at least 10 years younger on your 35th birthday: PRICELESS!!

Metamorphosis

I've decided to start referring to this whole experience as a metamorphosis. It sounds much better than saying I'm recovering from a nervous breakdown. Not that I'm really saying much of anything. It's the big pink elephant in the room ~ the fact that I have a WIDE open schedule for no apparent reason. I'm thinking a "Don't ask; don't tell; do not pursue" policy is in order.

I've also been considering marking the upswing of this whole thing ~ you know, the fact that I've finally decided on life. I'm still not as passionate about it as I once was and I'm still very much involved in the weighing of when so much becomes too much. I think I will spend the rest of my life waiting for that time when I can comfortably say that I did my best and gave it the good fight and gracefully admit defeat ~ I guess I just don't get to do that at 34. So I think I'm going to get a tattoo instead. I found a Celtic butterfly that symbolizes resurrection and I think that's appropriate. I'd get it on the back of my hip just above my butt ~ some place that would never show unless I was wearing really low hip huggers ~ and when would I do that?

I've found out this time around, thinking that I had been through the worst and therefore prepared to face it again, that your mind or your body or some combination thereof actually protects you from the worst. Hitting bottom, I remembered things from 13 years ago that I had completely forgotten. You think that you know how much pain you can endure, but the worst pain you actually forget, so it's so much more. It was those memories and visiting those places again that made me wonder if I even wanted to continue on if and when I did get better. So I'd get better and things would be good, but eventually, I'd find myself back there again, so what was the point? How many times do you really have to claw your way out of the hole before you earn the right to stop trying?

A long time from now, is what my therapist told me. Easy for you! But that's why the tattoo is there. It reminds me how far down it goes and that I can come back, I do come back. And every morning I see it and am reminded of my own strength and resilience. There's also something about a permanent mark on my body from this episode that would otherwise not exist. How can you suffer a life threatening illness (15% mortality rate) and come within spitting distance of death and walk away with out a mark on you, not a single visible scar. Maybe I need that, to make it real for me, beyond all the drugs and the doctors and medical bills, like they're not enough of a reminder.

As much as not eating has been a worrisome symptom, the result has been quite helpful. I can wear clothes now that haven't fit since grad school. It's giving my self esteem a boost when I would otherwise have none.

I told my sister about the tattoo and all the symbolism and how I would see it every morning and be reminded of my own strength. The last time I went through this, I got a kitten. But now that I know I'm allergic to cats, that's just not an option, so I'm going for the tattoo.

The games we play

Eastham, MA

I've been playing this rather cruel game with my mother lately. It arose out of my mother's complete lack of attention to details -- it took her 30+ to notice/remember how I take my tea despite the fact that I've drank it the same way for 30 years. Anyway, I've noticed on all the crime and cop shows that parents are always able to immediately identify jewelry/moles/scars from their missing/deceased children and/or all identifying features. I have my doubts that my mother could provide either. I was right, of course.

Like I said, it's a rather cruel game to play, but at this point, my whole emotional pain yardstick is completely obliterated. I have no idea if this is a fair excuse? Maybe no. But don't I have a certain license to spread my pain for help in absorption?

The way I see it, she was asking for a taste. She arrived uninvited -- on a one way ticket; no talk of a return date. I found out later that my sister goaded her into it - "If she had a broken leg wouldn't you go down there?!" I think what my mother heard was "If she had a caesarian section, wouldn't you be there?" Of course she would! Of course she was!

So back to the torment of my mother. My therapist says I need to be more honest with my family ~ tell them how I really feel. He thinks I expend too much energy protecting them from the ugly places where I exist. But I've been doing it for so long that I don't even know where to start.

I fessed up about not wanting to be in New Hampshire with the car and the garage with the door that didn't need to be opened. I confessed that I couldn't bear the thought of Dad having to find me all alone especially after everything he went through with his mother. I told her I wasn't writing a will until I was sure I wanted to live. No point in having things resolved and making it easier to let go.

I haven't mentioned the exposed the beams on the porch or all the rope for sale at the flea market yesterday or all the thought I've put into the use of a dog leash. What is this anyway? Suicide by convenience? Why don't I just stick a fork in the toaster???!!1

This is my life??

Eastham, MA

So you're probably asking yourself, because I definitely am ~ when did this become my life?? I'm on another family vacation ~ this one is set to be legendary ~ as my mom and aunt have mad a midnight trip to a slightly questionable 24 hour Laundromat (the only one on the Outer Cape, apparently) after my nephew awoke screaming B! B! We gathered in the living room where my sister has been sleeping since she believes she keeps the baby up or vice versa, figured he just lost his binky, so my sister fished another one out of her bag an headed into his room. Then quickly yelled to Mom for help and my mom in turn asked the aunts for assistance. He barfed all over himself, his bed and his very special doggie blankie. Mom and my sister bathed him while my aunt and I remade the bed. My sister got him dry and back into clean pajamas, but he was inconsolable without his blankie. Mom washed it in the sink, but having no way of drying it before morning headed off to the seedy coin-o-matic.

While I'm convinced my nephew doesn't really like me. He's always rather suspicious of me ~ still believes I'm some lesser or evil version of his mother. He's so attached to her that it's hard not to take it personally.

I guess I'm feeling better, but I just noticed the exposed beams on the screened in porch ~ how could I have never noticed them in the 20 years we've been coming to this house? And yes, they do make me a bit uncomfortable -- not that there's any rope around, mind you, just yarn, lots of yarn, and shoelaces. I'm considering the use of a dog leash. Which end would you hook over the beam? Would there be any benefit to having the metal piece tighten around your neck? These are things I need to consider.

And unlike with Dad, I really would not be upset for any of this crowd to find me -- well not as upset, anyway.

I still just really miss me, though.

Middle of the night

Richmond, VA

My family calls throughout the day with the same questions. Are you okay? How do you feel? Are you safe?

It's the middle of the night when I can't sleep that I'm not alright. It's 1am - technically June 2nd - and I'm awake and exhausted and worn and weary and still awake. There's no one to talk to and tell that I'm not okay. That I can't have foxglove in my garden, that I'm relieved I don't own a garage.

And about the garage ~ funny thing I realized tonight. I actually bought a car that can't be used to kill oneself in a closed garage. Hybrids don't idle!!! So, um, yeah, for that plan, I'd need not only a garage, but also someone else's car.

But back to my real life. My cat locked herself in the bathroom today. Must be a sign of impending adolescence. I had to actually remove the doorknob to get the door open. WHY? Other people's cats don't lock themselves in bathrooms??!!

No foxglove for me!!!

I've been kind of wondering/obsessing about how one extract digitalis from foxglove for the past few weeks. (Need to watch X-Files Eve6 episode again!) I mean, really, is it in the leaves or the sappish liquid in the stems? This knd of morbid curiousity (emphasis on morbid) has prevented me from including foxglove with the other perenniels I have planted in my front yard this year.

But, today at Home Depot, they had these gallon pots of apricot foxglove and the folliage looked just fantastic!! I mean like, toss it in the salad spinner, serve with sliced roma tomatoes and Ranch dressing, fantastic. Yeah, step away from the garden center now....

Parental Supervision

Richmond, VA

So, Daddy's here. I can't be left alone, don't you know? He brought up the idea of me returning to New Hampshire with him, something that my sister mentioned to me last week. Seems like Mom discussed this plan with everyone before me. To hear her tell it, Dad blew the timing. He was supposed to wait until Monday and then casually mention that I could come back with him. Now that I think about it, that sounds oddly like the way I dropped out of college. They waited for me to be discharged from the hospital, let me go be to classes fro a day or so and then casually suggested that I could just go home.

Home. What on earth would I do in NH? Mom's gong to be at a conference in Vancouver and Dad will be working. All my friends up there have jobs -- not that I'm much for socializing. So, basically, I'd be alone without my stuff without my freedom without my bearings -- yeah, that sounds like a terrific idea. And I can't help but think of the last time I retreated -- college. Oh, god, it sucked. I was so lost. I have never felt as crazy in my life as I did in that house. No, it's not worth that.

And Dad has started asking the hard questions. What do I want to do next? Do I want to go back to my job? Do I want to go after my boss? I have a decent harassment case, but do I want to put myself through it? When it's all through, it will have been more than a year of my life, possibly two, that I will have lost to this episode and its fallout. It's an awful lot to lose when you actually have someone to blame.

I want to be vindictive. I'd love to just name her in the medical release/HIPAA lawsuit and get her far enough in to place liens on all her property and just completely fuck up her credit rating. That would make me happy.

Dad said that the key was to get me through this with the least amount of damage as possible. FUCK! How did I miss the no damage bus?? Explain to me again how any of this is fair?

So I actually had to listen to two of my married friends talk about what a horrible life another college friend had. She has some kidney disease that she is getting chemo-lite for and apparently her husband can't hold down a job because he can't "find his place."

Yeah, that just REALLY sucks. A disease that actually can be cured and has at least some end point. And being loved and not being alone even if the company is deeply flawed. Yeah, that's just ROTTEN. Do you ever wonder if people realize it when they're having these conversations in your presence? I'm definitely all into feeling sorry for this flaky girl I never really liked when I'm in the process of being shuttled around amongst family members because they're terrified I might kill myself and I'm mourning the loss of myself. I've just spent the last nine months of my life being tormented by the director of my department to the point where I'm on medical disability leave because I'm suicidally depressed. Yeah, I can feel the outpouring of empathing for the ditz and her worthless husband. Perhaps the empathy just went out for a powder with every other emotion that I seem to be devoid of in my numb little world.

Dropping Out of Life

Austin, TX

I'm taking six and a half pills twice a day now. I'm excused from work for 8 weeks and I haven't felt this rotten since I dropped out of college. I guess I'll refer to this as the time that I dropped out of my life.

I'm at my sister's staying with her while my brother-in-law is on his first business trip since my nephew's birth. It's supposed to be a help to her, but I think if we're all a little honest, I'm marginally more helpful than a housetrained retriever.

I know she's terrified of where I am and my nephew and I are holding each other at arm's reach, but I honestly don't whose arm.

I'm so exhausted all the time, like just existing is exhausting. And I'm not even existing as myself. I'm a shadow of myself just going through the motions and haunting this existence that belongs to me or some version of me that I can't even remember.

We, my sister and I -- and I think our mother as well -- live for these moments when I feel like myself. I've only had one of these moments in the last few weeks. A rather ridiculous moment, actually -- I was standing in the grocery store picking out Roma tomatoes and using all five fingers of one hand to test the tenderness of the tomato and it occured to me -- this is something I do.

How is it that a stupid tomato -- one that I never intend to eat even -- has more power to remind me of who I am than my sister or my nephew? Where is the fairness in that???

Fighting back?

Richmond

I filed a grievance against the evil one today. It's a first step, I suppose. In the very least, I am priming the state to have ammunition against her when she ever comes under their control. Daddy says I have a major edge on her because she's not very bright. I my edge has more to do with the fact the she has underestimated me every step of the way.

Today was a slow day. Everything was hard. Dad's trying not to push, but I know Mom's nagging him to get things done around here. What's also odd is that everyone but my aunt has offered for her to come down and stay with me. I have done everything short of beg her to come, but she's not offering and I just can't beg. I guess Mr.-I-won't-come-between-you-and-your-family is contiuing that trend now that they're married.

Finally heard from Devine. She responded to my Uncle Bunty obit that I sent her. She deleted the original email I sent her in response to the email she sent to my office that got my auto response about "being out of the office and unavailable." ~ my yahoo account still had my name as "abc efg" ~ oops! So I recent my long email to her. Hopefully she'll respond in the next few days.

I'm really behind on my book group reading. I actually have 3 books to read for June! Well, one I read in Mrs. Timme's 5th grade Language Arts class, but I think I may need a bit of a refresher...

The pictures of my nephew are so amazing. I need to get some prints made. He is just soo beautiful now and soo photogenic! I'll have to call Tim tomorrow to see what his schedule is like to find out if I can use his use his high speed internet to upload these pictures to the web.

Reconnecting with "ME"?

Richmond,VA

I've been trying to do thing that make me happy or at least made me happy at some point. Today Dad and I went to Barnes & Noble and went to the Ashland Berry Farm and got annuals for the pots on my front steps. I know at one point I loved growing flowers so I'm sticking to that! My orchids are still blooming and they look gorgeous. The yellow one in the bathroom has all sorts of new buds even.

I've been reading a lot and joking with my sister about how this is the best time to read sad books. What are they going to do, depress me? I'm actually pretty numb. The crying response is so easily activated, it doesn't even seem to hold any meaning. I've gotten "102 Minutes" about the people in the Twin Towers on 9/11 and actually really liked "Good Grief." There's a scene where the main character, who is trying to come to terms with the death of her husband and has consoled herself with a little too much ice cream (to the point that her work clothes no longer fit), arrives at work in her pajamas and bathrobe. I cannot even begin to describe how much I wish I had had the nerve to do that. There were days and days where it took everything I had to get myself into that horrific office and getting out of bed was the hardest part. But to demonstrate, especially for one of those stupid 7am mandatory staff meetings would have been so liberating.

I still need to avoid the damn Wellbutrin XL commercial. Don't need to be reminded that I'm not myself, thank you very much!!! Quite aware of the fact. There will be a day when I finally have the feeling -- yes! this is me. I remember this!

But, that is months and months away.