I started attempting Japanese this summer. It's been a long-standing whim of mine to learn a non-Europe writing system, and there is plenty of available Japanese text available, so I decided, why not? Beth thinks I've made a lot of progress, even though I only can recognize the kana and a couple dozen kanji.
The kana are easy--just sounds associated with symbols. They all look alike at first, and I still struggle with katakana shi and tsu, so and n, since the difference in those pairs is so small. But I am getting better. Eventually, I hope to recognize them right off and not have to sound them out to make a word, just like I've been doing since childhood with Roman characters. The kanji are easy since I decided to put off associating sounds with them until later. They can be learned just associating concepts, regardless of native language. Writing them is tricky, though. My magic slate is getting a workout. (I really don't know why Deaf students aren't first taught a written language like this, one based on symbols. It would make more sense than teaching a phonetic language. If there is anyone Deaf who has some insight into this, please, tell me! Maybe I am missing something?)
I listen to Japanese music on the way to work and back, and watch a half hour or so of Japanese television shows in the evening, and spend a couple hours looking at Japanese blogs, running them through Google Translate and then picking out interesting looking sentences (the ones Google Translate especially botches :D ) for me to work on myself. Can I translate better than a machine? I have to make heavy use of an online dictionary, but I am getting there! And then, of course, I spend some time every night just working on learning kanji and refreshing the kana.
But, yanub, you ask, how do you find time to do all that? And is that really the best way to learn a language? Answer: Once I get home, I don't do much that doesn't involve sitting. This is interesting, and also doesn't strain my joints. And, you may have gathered, I tend to hyperfocus on things that interest me until I am completely bored of them. Is this the best way to learn a language? Oh, I don't know. It's a way. If I spent time worrying about the best way, then I'd never get around to trying any way.
Hmmm, I guess that's my summer report. Now I should go find some crayons and notebook paper to illustrate it. I wonder if my mom will put it on her fridge?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
New shoes!
I had the afternoon off so I took advantage of the time to get myself to the orthopedic shoe store where I could get a pedorthist to help me find a new pair. After all, it has been a year since my last pair of shoes. This time, I had high hopes of at least getting something all one color.
I could tell that the pedorthists were skeptical that I needed any assistance from them. The senior one initially tried to get me to get help from one of the regular sales clerks, but I insisted it was pointless to look for shoes without specialized help because of my joint instability. When the junior, RC, came available, I explained again the general instability problem I have and showed the orthotics I had gotten along with the shoes last year, and mentioned that the pedorthist last year believed that my left leg had lost length. So, RC whipped out his trusty level and, sure enough, my left hip is sitting about 3/4 of an inch lower than my right. That's worse than last year, and I knew right away might be why I have been having so much pain throughout my leg. (You know, I told this same information to my regular GP and my orthopedist, who both promptly ignored it and thought I should have an MRI. I really do hate doctors.)
RC went off in search of shoes for me, coming back with, of course, New Balance, and, this time, a box of Drew mary janes. Oh, joy! Mary janes! Is it even a possibility? And also, of course, new orthotics--arch supports and a heel lift. Because, no matter what else, the old ones always turn out to be Not the Right Thing. Ka-ching! Oh well. When you have floppy feet, you get used to paying for the bones to be on the outside.
We started with the New Balance, with had the virtue of being all black, a definite improvement over last year's white and purple. And with the new orthotics, it was almost like walking normally. My heart sunk because I knew the Drews weren't likely to be as good. And they weren't. But they were almost as good! It was really tempting.
The drawback to the Drews was that they didn't stop my left ankle from pronating. Which then led to my knee buckling. Which drags my hip and spine down, too. Oh, one big house of cards, that leg is! I don't think RC had ever seen such instability, because he made a comment about me moving my knee around. I again pointed out to him that I all my joints are unstable, and that the only moving I was doing of my knee was trying to keep it from collapsing.
And that led to his suggestion that I need a build-up on the arch support. We discussed the shoes a bit more, because my vanity was pulling me toward the Drew. But I decided to get the NB. Sigh. They really are more supportive. If uglier. But the good part is that the build-up is on the orthotic, not the shoe, so if the opportunity presents itself to get the Drews (a second pair of shoes? for me? ones I could wear and stand in at nice events, not just sit? ooooh, I shouldn't get so crazy greedy!), I can just switch out the orthotics.
So, $235 later, at least, my shoes are all black and not driving me to my knees. Worth every penny.
I could tell that the pedorthists were skeptical that I needed any assistance from them. The senior one initially tried to get me to get help from one of the regular sales clerks, but I insisted it was pointless to look for shoes without specialized help because of my joint instability. When the junior, RC, came available, I explained again the general instability problem I have and showed the orthotics I had gotten along with the shoes last year, and mentioned that the pedorthist last year believed that my left leg had lost length. So, RC whipped out his trusty level and, sure enough, my left hip is sitting about 3/4 of an inch lower than my right. That's worse than last year, and I knew right away might be why I have been having so much pain throughout my leg. (You know, I told this same information to my regular GP and my orthopedist, who both promptly ignored it and thought I should have an MRI. I really do hate doctors.)
RC went off in search of shoes for me, coming back with, of course, New Balance, and, this time, a box of Drew mary janes. Oh, joy! Mary janes! Is it even a possibility? And also, of course, new orthotics--arch supports and a heel lift. Because, no matter what else, the old ones always turn out to be Not the Right Thing. Ka-ching! Oh well. When you have floppy feet, you get used to paying for the bones to be on the outside.
We started with the New Balance, with had the virtue of being all black, a definite improvement over last year's white and purple. And with the new orthotics, it was almost like walking normally. My heart sunk because I knew the Drews weren't likely to be as good. And they weren't. But they were almost as good! It was really tempting.
The drawback to the Drews was that they didn't stop my left ankle from pronating. Which then led to my knee buckling. Which drags my hip and spine down, too. Oh, one big house of cards, that leg is! I don't think RC had ever seen such instability, because he made a comment about me moving my knee around. I again pointed out to him that I all my joints are unstable, and that the only moving I was doing of my knee was trying to keep it from collapsing.
And that led to his suggestion that I need a build-up on the arch support. We discussed the shoes a bit more, because my vanity was pulling me toward the Drew. But I decided to get the NB. Sigh. They really are more supportive. If uglier. But the good part is that the build-up is on the orthotic, not the shoe, so if the opportunity presents itself to get the Drews (a second pair of shoes? for me? ones I could wear and stand in at nice events, not just sit? ooooh, I shouldn't get so crazy greedy!), I can just switch out the orthotics.
So, $235 later, at least, my shoes are all black and not driving me to my knees. Worth every penny.
Monday, August 17, 2009
On pain and piety
Frida wrote a thought-provoking post on the significance of crucifixion in regards to understanding pain.
Speaking as an atheist, I don't really know of any other atheists who mock crucifixion. "The" crucifixion, maybe, but that is because the one single event is teased out of the tens of thousands and held up as something special, while all the others who died horrible deaths, alone and in pain, bodies disposed of like refuse--nothing and nobody so who cares? But taking Jesus as a representative case--as Frida does--rather than a special case is a healthy approach, I think. It acknowledges all the others, elevates the worth of all the other individuals who are largely nameless, recognizes the shock against humanity inherent in torture and murder. And in that way, the example is edifying.
The trouble with pain is that it can't be seen by others. People who are comfortable like to flatter themselves that they have somehow done something to deserve their comfort, that those who experience misfortune are maybe pitiable but still deserving of their hardship. And I wonder if, in this age when human sacrifice and mass execution is no longer in vogue, if the refusal to honor the pain of others, to respect and allow the alleviation of pain, isn't some sort of vestige of the past, a sacrifice that pain sufferers are supposed to nobly endure for the sake of the larger community? I remember reading a short story years ago in which a society had developed without any want, deprivation or pain--except for one child, who was kept locked away and tormented, whose suffering was considered essential to the well-being of the rest of the society. I think there is an extent to which poverty, pain, and disability treated that same way now, so to the extent that a lot of people allow themselves to think about those problems, they are seen as sacrifices. And in that way, the usual story of Jesus is again reflected, making a widespread social and political problem that could be resolved with human will into disparate special acts of sacrifice that should not be tampered with and that bear no relation to each other. After all, the lesson of the crucifixion as I was taught it as a church-going child included stress that Jesus wasn't like those he was crucified with. Those others, they deserved it, but Jesus was pure. I reject that. No one deserves pain.
Speaking as an atheist, I don't really know of any other atheists who mock crucifixion. "The" crucifixion, maybe, but that is because the one single event is teased out of the tens of thousands and held up as something special, while all the others who died horrible deaths, alone and in pain, bodies disposed of like refuse--nothing and nobody so who cares? But taking Jesus as a representative case--as Frida does--rather than a special case is a healthy approach, I think. It acknowledges all the others, elevates the worth of all the other individuals who are largely nameless, recognizes the shock against humanity inherent in torture and murder. And in that way, the example is edifying.
The trouble with pain is that it can't be seen by others. People who are comfortable like to flatter themselves that they have somehow done something to deserve their comfort, that those who experience misfortune are maybe pitiable but still deserving of their hardship. And I wonder if, in this age when human sacrifice and mass execution is no longer in vogue, if the refusal to honor the pain of others, to respect and allow the alleviation of pain, isn't some sort of vestige of the past, a sacrifice that pain sufferers are supposed to nobly endure for the sake of the larger community? I remember reading a short story years ago in which a society had developed without any want, deprivation or pain--except for one child, who was kept locked away and tormented, whose suffering was considered essential to the well-being of the rest of the society. I think there is an extent to which poverty, pain, and disability treated that same way now, so to the extent that a lot of people allow themselves to think about those problems, they are seen as sacrifices. And in that way, the usual story of Jesus is again reflected, making a widespread social and political problem that could be resolved with human will into disparate special acts of sacrifice that should not be tampered with and that bear no relation to each other. After all, the lesson of the crucifixion as I was taught it as a church-going child included stress that Jesus wasn't like those he was crucified with. Those others, they deserved it, but Jesus was pure. I reject that. No one deserves pain.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Another joint bites the dust
Friday, I somehow badly subluxed my left shoulder, as well as having the usual slippage in my neck. Needless to say, I was not happy. My housemate mostly managed to get the shoulder back in, and it turned out he has some basic massage skills, so he was also able to relax my neck enough for the vertabrae to slip back towards their original home. Still, sleeping and folding laundry and really attempting to do anything at all during the weekend was likely to be brought up short as my right hand grabbed my left upper arm and I offered whatever curses came to mind, which was a lot. By Sunday night, though, I had pretty much assigned the blame for the continuing nuisance to me handwriting more than usual. What with being left-handed, I figured that, since I wasn't exactly babying my arm, I had managed to inflame the tendons.
But I don't think that now, since this evening, the stupid shoulder seized up again. And this time, with Carapace's help, we figured out that the problem is orginating in the collar bones. Damn things are twisting, which locks up the shoulder, which then makes the muscles seize in the upper arm. It has been so bad off and on this week that I seriously considered seeing my doctor. Why did I not see him? Because experience has proven that any appointment for a subluxed or dislocated joint will coincide with a spontaneous reduction in that joint. I am a desperate woman to even think for a moment that seeing a doctor will be of any use in anything other than lightening my bank account and wasting my time with pointless tests.
So, I don't know what to do. This past weekend my attempt to go enjoy myself ended up with me standing and watching, afraid to put any new pressure on my shoulder as it started acting up again. This weekend has grander plans: road trip, museum, maybe some downtown San Antonio driving during which it would be real darn convenient to be able to steer. So, what to do? Anyone have any bright collar bone ideas?
But I don't think that now, since this evening, the stupid shoulder seized up again. And this time, with Carapace's help, we figured out that the problem is orginating in the collar bones. Damn things are twisting, which locks up the shoulder, which then makes the muscles seize in the upper arm. It has been so bad off and on this week that I seriously considered seeing my doctor. Why did I not see him? Because experience has proven that any appointment for a subluxed or dislocated joint will coincide with a spontaneous reduction in that joint. I am a desperate woman to even think for a moment that seeing a doctor will be of any use in anything other than lightening my bank account and wasting my time with pointless tests.
So, I don't know what to do. This past weekend my attempt to go enjoy myself ended up with me standing and watching, afraid to put any new pressure on my shoulder as it started acting up again. This weekend has grander plans: road trip, museum, maybe some downtown San Antonio driving during which it would be real darn convenient to be able to steer. So, what to do? Anyone have any bright collar bone ideas?
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A Best Chance
Via Media dis&dat, here's a Dallas Morning News article explaining the problem with the two year waiting period for Medicare for people approved for Social Security Disability. I assume most of y'all that pop by here need no explanation as to why that rule is one of the stupidest regulations on the books, but go on and read it so that you can point it out to non-Americans who want to take a moment to feel superior as well as Americans who live under rocks.
The current push to establish a national health care plan may not come to much at all, but it is also the best chance in years to make needed reforms to Medicare rules. Even my beloved backward state of Texas supports ending the two-year rule (though I don't trust our two Senators to ever do the right thing, even when the state legislature has passed a resolution). So, if you haven't made your voice heard on the health care debate, at least pick up the phone or shoot an email to your Congress Critters telling them to make sure to end the 2-year rule on Medicare.
One point that isn't made clear by the article is the cost of not granting health insurance to people who have already been found too disabled to work full-time. A lot of people on disability could, theoretically at least, work part-time and would like to work. But while they are untreated, they can't work. Pain, seizures, lack of mobility equipment and so forth robs them of two years of productive capability. During that two years, skills rust, licenses become obsolete, and health declines to the point that the possibility of re-entering the workforce becomes evermore remote.
The current push to establish a national health care plan may not come to much at all, but it is also the best chance in years to make needed reforms to Medicare rules. Even my beloved backward state of Texas supports ending the two-year rule (though I don't trust our two Senators to ever do the right thing, even when the state legislature has passed a resolution). So, if you haven't made your voice heard on the health care debate, at least pick up the phone or shoot an email to your Congress Critters telling them to make sure to end the 2-year rule on Medicare.
One point that isn't made clear by the article is the cost of not granting health insurance to people who have already been found too disabled to work full-time. A lot of people on disability could, theoretically at least, work part-time and would like to work. But while they are untreated, they can't work. Pain, seizures, lack of mobility equipment and so forth robs them of two years of productive capability. During that two years, skills rust, licenses become obsolete, and health declines to the point that the possibility of re-entering the workforce becomes evermore remote.
Friday, July 17, 2009
One of us?
Thanks to EDS Alert Newsletter, I learned that a Swiss doctor is speculating that Michael Jackson may have had Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. And if you don't read French, you can read the article in mangled English, thanks to the power of Google Translate.
What do I think of it? Well, not much. I'm not big on following celebrities, so I have no idea if his symptoms really do match up with EDS. But even the speculation is helpful, I think. So few doctors have any clue at all regarding EDS. If a few of them read this article and start taking joint hypermobility seriously, then I will feel that something good has come from the circus that has arisen in the wake of Jackson's death.
What do I think of it? Well, not much. I'm not big on following celebrities, so I have no idea if his symptoms really do match up with EDS. But even the speculation is helpful, I think. So few doctors have any clue at all regarding EDS. If a few of them read this article and start taking joint hypermobility seriously, then I will feel that something good has come from the circus that has arisen in the wake of Jackson's death.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Well, then.
I have been very, very boring of late. Perhaps I have fallen off the face of the earth? But, no, terra firma is still firm, even if I do not stand firmly upon it.
You who care will be gratified to know that I am doing well physically. Yes, my joints are still crap, but that isn't likely to change unless the blue fairy gets off her ass and starts granting some wishes. My mental gears have been grinding something fierce, but I think I may be pushing past that now. We shall see. I've been in a state of high distractability the past several months, so I have quite the pile of things I either need to do or want to do but can't remember to finish or can't sustain the drive to finish or whatever it is that one need in order to see things through. On the plus side, I have a lot of projects started!
For one, I have finally begun cleaning out the room that is supposed to be the sewing room and has been cluttered with unpacked crap since I moved to this house. I actually have the sewing desk cleared off and the sewing machine set up. I actually mended something, and have to mend two more things tomorrow.
For another, I am trying to learn Japanese. This is mostly an outgrowth of my latest amusement, which is to go to a Japanese website and run it through Google translate. The resulting hilarity has finally provoked my curiousity enough that I have to know...why in the world would what is obviously "born in" (as in, "born October 5,1982) get translated "made of malt"? I have to know! So I have to learn.
I'm still sketching, though I need to be more regular about it. I am pretty pleased with my progress, even if the constancy of my practice leaves much to be desired. Oh, well. If I was going to let lack of follow through stop me from doing things, I'd never do anything. It would be the same success rate, but with no fun.
Oh, yes! Something I did at last accomplish! Listen up, y'all. I have been having this idea in my head that I could make my lap board actually work well as a laptop board if I just finagled with it. After staring at the limited selection of hardware in our local Mart of Evil, I finally saw what I need. Exactly what I needed! See, going back and forth between two aisles of useless crap and staring sadly at the stock does work! OK, this is what I bought: a roll of two-way sticky foam tape and a package of one foot long square dowels of varied sizes. I went home and put two strips of two-way tape one on top of the other toward the front of my lap desk. Then I got out the largest of the dowels, that just about is the width of the tape, and put tape down its length. Then I stuck it further back on the desk, using my laptop as a guide so it would be about an inch from the back of the laptop. This has been great! My padded lapdesk now can have my laptop on it without the laptop overheating, and I have a nice cushioned lapdesk to keep the no longer so hot laptop off my lap. And I like the angle much better, too! This is better and cheaper than anything I have seen for sale purporting to be a laptop desk. So, if you have a lap desk you like that you couldn't really use with your laptop, now you know what to do!
You who care will be gratified to know that I am doing well physically. Yes, my joints are still crap, but that isn't likely to change unless the blue fairy gets off her ass and starts granting some wishes. My mental gears have been grinding something fierce, but I think I may be pushing past that now. We shall see. I've been in a state of high distractability the past several months, so I have quite the pile of things I either need to do or want to do but can't remember to finish or can't sustain the drive to finish or whatever it is that one need in order to see things through. On the plus side, I have a lot of projects started!
For one, I have finally begun cleaning out the room that is supposed to be the sewing room and has been cluttered with unpacked crap since I moved to this house. I actually have the sewing desk cleared off and the sewing machine set up. I actually mended something, and have to mend two more things tomorrow.
For another, I am trying to learn Japanese. This is mostly an outgrowth of my latest amusement, which is to go to a Japanese website and run it through Google translate. The resulting hilarity has finally provoked my curiousity enough that I have to know...why in the world would what is obviously "born in" (as in, "born October 5,1982) get translated "made of malt"? I have to know! So I have to learn.
I'm still sketching, though I need to be more regular about it. I am pretty pleased with my progress, even if the constancy of my practice leaves much to be desired. Oh, well. If I was going to let lack of follow through stop me from doing things, I'd never do anything. It would be the same success rate, but with no fun.
Oh, yes! Something I did at last accomplish! Listen up, y'all. I have been having this idea in my head that I could make my lap board actually work well as a laptop board if I just finagled with it. After staring at the limited selection of hardware in our local Mart of Evil, I finally saw what I need. Exactly what I needed! See, going back and forth between two aisles of useless crap and staring sadly at the stock does work! OK, this is what I bought: a roll of two-way sticky foam tape and a package of one foot long square dowels of varied sizes. I went home and put two strips of two-way tape one on top of the other toward the front of my lap desk. Then I got out the largest of the dowels, that just about is the width of the tape, and put tape down its length. Then I stuck it further back on the desk, using my laptop as a guide so it would be about an inch from the back of the laptop. This has been great! My padded lapdesk now can have my laptop on it without the laptop overheating, and I have a nice cushioned lapdesk to keep the no longer so hot laptop off my lap. And I like the angle much better, too! This is better and cheaper than anything I have seen for sale purporting to be a laptop desk. So, if you have a lap desk you like that you couldn't really use with your laptop, now you know what to do!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Stand by Iran
Bon Jovi and Iranian singer Andy Madadian have recorded and released this cover of BB King's "Stand by Me" to show support for the people of Iran. What a wonderful way to buoy the spirits of Iranians during the current crackdown! I will now never hear this song without thinking of Iranian courage.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Yo
Beth alerts me that I have been unusually quiet, even for me. So I reckon I best give a holler before people grow concerned. I'm OK, just feeling unsociable. Which probably means I need to work on that before it gets worse. So, Beth, thanks for prodding me.
Let's see, what's been going on....Saw my parents on Father's Day. Got to meet my sister's boyfriend at last. Nice guy, but can't barbecue worth a damn. Not that I said that. Even I know better than to insult a man's barbecuing skills.
Summer has been nice so far. I've been able to get wonderful local tomatoes and squash and yard eggs from the produce stand a few blocks away. The onions are about spent, but the melons are up, and so is the okra and soon will be the beans. Oh, and there are lots of cucumbers. I wish there were greens. Maybe if I get there earlier.
Summer is also kinder to my joints than the other seasons. And I at least have the chance to go to the river and fool around in the water. I'm trying to do it once a week, because water exercise is easier on my joints. Carapace and I went to the old mill dam this past week, and think we will go there the next time, since it is fairly close (only 15 miles away) and the water is warmish and not too fast.
Another thing that has been helpful is going off Red Yeast Rice. My doctor wanted me to take it because I wouldn't take prescription statins after reading about side effects. You know, horrible muscle pain (especially in the legs) and even liver damage? Hey, turns out, Red Yeast Rice has the exact same side effects. I stopped taking it, and now I just have the usual joint pain from arthritis and instability instead of the really frightening pain I had in March and April.
Let's see, what's been going on....Saw my parents on Father's Day. Got to meet my sister's boyfriend at last. Nice guy, but can't barbecue worth a damn. Not that I said that. Even I know better than to insult a man's barbecuing skills.
Summer has been nice so far. I've been able to get wonderful local tomatoes and squash and yard eggs from the produce stand a few blocks away. The onions are about spent, but the melons are up, and so is the okra and soon will be the beans. Oh, and there are lots of cucumbers. I wish there were greens. Maybe if I get there earlier.
Summer is also kinder to my joints than the other seasons. And I at least have the chance to go to the river and fool around in the water. I'm trying to do it once a week, because water exercise is easier on my joints. Carapace and I went to the old mill dam this past week, and think we will go there the next time, since it is fairly close (only 15 miles away) and the water is warmish and not too fast.
Another thing that has been helpful is going off Red Yeast Rice. My doctor wanted me to take it because I wouldn't take prescription statins after reading about side effects. You know, horrible muscle pain (especially in the legs) and even liver damage? Hey, turns out, Red Yeast Rice has the exact same side effects. I stopped taking it, and now I just have the usual joint pain from arthritis and instability instead of the really frightening pain I had in March and April.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Bwahahahaha!
Do you hate cleaning the kitchen? Do you like giant combining robots, even though--especially though--they make no logical sense? All is explained here, where Nobody Scores.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
These aren't bears
A friend emailed me, telling me that she had seen a bear. I told her that all I had seen were some deer and domestic cats. To which she replied, "Did the cats have on little aprons?"
Um, yeah. See:
Um, yeah. See:
Google, what's up with Blogger?
Seriously, I am getting sick of Blogger randomly refusing to recognize or set cookies. Every few months, it's a fight. And I'm not geeky enough to remember exactly what steps I took to work around it previously. Did I just wait and things improved? Completely re-install my browser? Cast chicken entrails into a brazier and read the portents? Be sure to allow cookies to be set is the "helpful" advice. Yeah?
How come every other site I use has no trouble with setting cookies? Yahoo can manage this, but not Google? Live Journal? Facebook? Yeah, they can all set cookies, even if my enthusiasm for Facebook rivals my loathing for family get-togethers and school reunions, and Yahoo pretends every two weeks to not know who I am as part of its "security". What up, Google? (I've also been having trouble with Google's search acting all kindsa weird. Again, what up? Why are suddenly re-using open tabs instead of opening in new ones? This is not how I have things set.)
So. If you use a different blog host, and are happy as you can be with it, let me know. I'm once again pondering moving this puppy to a different kennel. One with easy customization and image uploading, and that will be easy to transfer to. If you have a suggestion, please leave it in the comments.
How come every other site I use has no trouble with setting cookies? Yahoo can manage this, but not Google? Live Journal? Facebook? Yeah, they can all set cookies, even if my enthusiasm for Facebook rivals my loathing for family get-togethers and school reunions, and Yahoo pretends every two weeks to not know who I am as part of its "security". What up, Google? (I've also been having trouble with Google's search acting all kindsa weird. Again, what up? Why are suddenly re-using open tabs instead of opening in new ones? This is not how I have things set.)
So. If you use a different blog host, and are happy as you can be with it, let me know. I'm once again pondering moving this puppy to a different kennel. One with easy customization and image uploading, and that will be easy to transfer to. If you have a suggestion, please leave it in the comments.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Sketchy!
The final four of my holiday sketches! I know you were hardly able to contain your excitement. Truthfully, the sketches look better in real life than in the scans, but they aren't shabby in the scans, either. And this time, I remembered to use thumbnails instead of large pictures, so the page should load faster.
After observing the heron on the dunes, I went down to the visitors' center. It hadn't opened yet, so I shared the vista with a couple from Kansas. He was using a powered wheelchair to get up the multi-level ramp to the look-out. Seeing nothing strike my immediate fancy, I headed toward the center's ramp to the beach. They had a similar idea, and got there first. The ramp goes to the beach, but not to the water. This worked out nicely for artistic purposes, as the gentleman left his chair on the paved platform and, with the help of his wife, limped out to one of the benches to better view the Gulf waters. This sketch shows the chair, with footprints leading away. A dune hides the destination.
It was getting close to 8:30 when I finished the wheelchair sketch. I chatted with the couple, and then opened my cane/seat so that I could sit watching the beach as it came alive with color and people. This beach scene shows a handful of intrepid bathers wading into the still cool waters stretching into the horizon.
Remember that heron sitting at the top of the dunes? When I went back to the beach, it (or possibly another heron. I don't know one gray heron from another) had moved near the water.
First, it was standing in the partial shade of a picnic table canopy. The canopies are just slats, and at so early in the morning, the canopies threw stripes on the sands. I was able to get closer this time, sitting at the next table over while looking at the black-striped heron. The black on gray was fun, and I decided to leave the picture in the graytones I first rendered it.
After about ten minutes, the heron broke free of his prison garb in order to hunt along the water's edge. Gulls and plovers fluttered out of his immediate reach, so he struck a watchful pose, waiting for some smaller critter to forget caution. I also left this one black and white.
Thanks for taking the time to look at my sketches. It was a great experience, the first of what I hope will be many day trips just for the sake of sketching.
After observing the heron on the dunes, I went down to the visitors' center. It hadn't opened yet, so I shared the vista with a couple from Kansas. He was using a powered wheelchair to get up the multi-level ramp to the look-out. Seeing nothing strike my immediate fancy, I headed toward the center's ramp to the beach. They had a similar idea, and got there first. The ramp goes to the beach, but not to the water. This worked out nicely for artistic purposes, as the gentleman left his chair on the paved platform and, with the help of his wife, limped out to one of the benches to better view the Gulf waters. This sketch shows the chair, with footprints leading away. A dune hides the destination.
It was getting close to 8:30 when I finished the wheelchair sketch. I chatted with the couple, and then opened my cane/seat so that I could sit watching the beach as it came alive with color and people. This beach scene shows a handful of intrepid bathers wading into the still cool waters stretching into the horizon.
Remember that heron sitting at the top of the dunes? When I went back to the beach, it (or possibly another heron. I don't know one gray heron from another) had moved near the water.
First, it was standing in the partial shade of a picnic table canopy. The canopies are just slats, and at so early in the morning, the canopies threw stripes on the sands. I was able to get closer this time, sitting at the next table over while looking at the black-striped heron. The black on gray was fun, and I decided to leave the picture in the graytones I first rendered it.
After about ten minutes, the heron broke free of his prison garb in order to hunt along the water's edge. Gulls and plovers fluttered out of his immediate reach, so he struck a watchful pose, waiting for some smaller critter to forget caution. I also left this one black and white.
Thanks for taking the time to look at my sketches. It was a great experience, the first of what I hope will be many day trips just for the sake of sketching.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Back and Up
I'm back and rested from my seashore shenannigans. I camped overnight at Padre Island National Seashore, enjoying good weather and more peace and quiet than I usually get from my neighbors at home--even if the dingleberries in the next campsite over did keep honking their horn around 11 pm. At least they stopped by midnight. This was the very first time in my 50 years of life that I went somewhere completely by myself for vacation. I travelled maybe too light, but it was OK, since it meant less to deal with both at the destination and coming home. I was very glad, again, for having bought an easy-to-pitch tent. Not even the evening beach winds could keep me from being able to set it up by myself. However, next time, if it is for just one night, I will probably just sleep in my car and if it is for more than one night, I will bring a lounger, because I can't even pretend to sleep flat on my back for more than an hour.
I trundled out to the water's edge the night I arrived. No one else was out there at all. Once I turned off my lantern, there was no artificial light. I figured I would get to see the moonlight and stars reflect off the sea foam. What I did not expect was to see the shoreline flash softly in blue and purple. I bent to examine the source, turning my lantern back on. It was the nasty seaweed that litters the beach! By day, it is quite ugly. But at night, the plankton that live in it biolumenesce up a storm! All these years I have gone to the beach, and I had never seen this. If you go, make sure to go to the shoreline when there is no one else there with lights or fires so you can see for yourself. Other beaches may have other colors, depending on the plankton. It's really wonderful.
One of my main reasons for going down was to get myself into regular sketching again after, lo, these many years. I took a small sketch book and some pencils and charcoal, and spent the morning after camping drawing whatever interested me.
Earlier today, I finally broke out my pastels to add some color to the drawings and have managed to scan in the first three of them. Let's see how they turned out, shall we?
This first one was done at daybreak. When I got down to the beach, the sun was just coming up. By the time I got the rough proportions of beach, sea, and sky pencilled in, the sun was off to my left, high enough in the sky that I couldn't see anything but blinding white light on that side, but not high enough to bring out color. For the most part, the colors of sand, water, and sky were indistinguishable. But still, there was plenty of light for the plovers and pipers to find their prey in the tide. The color I've added in is actually more than what you would have seen with the naked eye, but it's pretty close.
I trundled out to the water's edge the night I arrived. No one else was out there at all. Once I turned off my lantern, there was no artificial light. I figured I would get to see the moonlight and stars reflect off the sea foam. What I did not expect was to see the shoreline flash softly in blue and purple. I bent to examine the source, turning my lantern back on. It was the nasty seaweed that litters the beach! By day, it is quite ugly. But at night, the plankton that live in it biolumenesce up a storm! All these years I have gone to the beach, and I had never seen this. If you go, make sure to go to the shoreline when there is no one else there with lights or fires so you can see for yourself. Other beaches may have other colors, depending on the plankton. It's really wonderful.
One of my main reasons for going down was to get myself into regular sketching again after, lo, these many years. I took a small sketch book and some pencils and charcoal, and spent the morning after camping drawing whatever interested me.
Earlier today, I finally broke out my pastels to add some color to the drawings and have managed to scan in the first three of them. Let's see how they turned out, shall we?
This first one was done at daybreak. When I got down to the beach, the sun was just coming up. By the time I got the rough proportions of beach, sea, and sky pencilled in, the sun was off to my left, high enough in the sky that I couldn't see anything but blinding white light on that side, but not high enough to bring out color. For the most part, the colors of sand, water, and sky were indistinguishable. But still, there was plenty of light for the plovers and pipers to find their prey in the tide. The color I've added in is actually more than what you would have seen with the naked eye, but it's pretty close.
By the time I finished with that, the sun had risen enough to bring out the yellows and roses along the beach. This small shell was left in a tiny crevice made by the receding tide. I thought the shadows and colors around it were interesting, even if I didn't quite capture what I saw.
When I went back to the camp site, I looked over the dunes and saw this magnificent gray heron observing the hustle and bustle of the campers. He was quite large, maybe three feet tall standing at the crest of the dune. I should probably have drawn him with his neck extended, but this is the pose he settled into, so I went with it. I didn't want to get too close for fear of spooking him, but the only time he showed any sign of perhaps flying away was when a karakara swooped in nearby. But a three foot tall heron is a match for a karakara, so they quickly ignored each other. The heron would move, later, as I'll show you tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Off to the beach
I'll be less active online than usual, what with me daring to leave this laptop at home as I take myself on my very first solo holiday. I'll let you know if I have any exciting adventures.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
May disability blog carnival
If you didn't know before, you know now to head on over to Same Difference for the list of links. Set aside a chunk of time, because they are all good reading.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Pass along
Ooh, I have a pass-along award! This is the sort where someone tells you they like your blog, and then you pass the honor on to more people. It's a good way of learning about other blogs, as well as of letting folks know you think highly of them. One Sick Mother gave me this one, a Premio Dardos award:
The Prémio Dardos is given for recognition of cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values transmitted in the form of creative and original writing. These stamps were created with the intention of promoting fraternization between bloggers, a way of showing affection and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web.
Now, who to pick, who to pick. So many good choices, and only ten spots to fill. Trying not to duplicate OSM, here's the list:
- Moon Phases--Lisa writes engagingly about making her way through life after a work-acquired injury
- Mind, Body and Soul--the very best medical blog I read
- Frida Writes--musings on personal life and the world, through the lens of disability
- Bad Cripple--William is one of them thar uppity cripple types
- Through Myself and Back Again--always enjoyable and thought-provoking
- Cara Makes--a craft blog with stories
- Andrea's Buzzing About--science, work, family, disability, art, humor
- En Tequila Es Verdad--atheism, politics, and lolcats
- The Old Foodie--astounding recipes from the past, of the sort that make you hold tight your Betty Crocker
- Media Dis & Dat--simply the most comprehensive blog on disability news
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Hooray for the Evil Side
I suppose I should talk about myself and how I am doing and blah blah. But doing that will only get me wound up into a rant, and not a fun one, so if I'm going to rant, lets rant about something far more important: Those damnable Autobots.
If you are a Transformers fan, or inescapably linked to someone who is, you have no doubt seen the recent episode, "Rise of the Predacons." When I viewed this episode with my housemate, I summed up the Autobots as a bunch of able-ists. When, later, my daughter also viewed the episode, her reaction also was "bunch of able-ists!"
Now, for those of you who have somehow managed to miss out on this touchstone of geek pop culture, in the Transformers universe, there are two sides which have been at war for hundreds of years. One is the Autobots, which in the current incarnation have a firm base on Earth and control of their home planet of Cybertron. They are the self-proclaimed good guys, led on Earth by Optimus Prime and on Cybertron by Sentinel Prime. Playing the part of the villains are the Decepticons, led by Megatron. The Autobots are supposedly on the side of freedom and life, while the Decepticons are into power for the sake of power.
So, if you were a permanently disabled Transformer, which side would you want to be on? I'm telling you, there's only one side that will have you for you, and that is the Decepticons.
Look at "Rise of the Predacons." In it, Elita One is revealed not to be dead, but instead to have been somehow combined with a spider to become Blackarachnia. As Autobots, including the two aformentioned Primes, discover that she is alive but now different, they each declare their revulsion and pity. Oh, sure, Optimus is all about wanting to cure her while Sentinel is speed-dialing Dr. Kevorkian, but the upshot is that neither one of them can envision a Transformer society in which somerobot who is part organic can be accepted and thrive. It's kill or cure, million dollar babycakes.
Meanwhile, what is the leader of the eeeeeeeevil Decepticons doing? He's on a road trip through space with his disloyal henchbot, Starscream. Megatron does not need to be palling around with Starscream, and if he were to get fed up with Starscream's constant jibes and machinations, he could always easily get away from him. Why? Because, at this point, Starscream has nothing left of himself but his head. And yet, this annoying, trash-talking head is still seen as a valuable contributing member of the Decepticons, worth being toted around everywhere. Sure, he's not fully respected, but that's not really different than when he had a body. And when the Decepticons come across Blackarachnia? Yeah, they call her a "techno-organic freak." But they will also offer her a job, a vital role in their organization, seeing her as valuable for her skills and knowledge. The one thing they don't do is throw her a pity-party.
So, here I am, feeling lately particularly vulnerable in this current economic climate as my body discovers new ways to give out on me. Which side would I prefer my own employers to emulate? Freedom-loving Autobots with their fetish for the normal or scheming Decepticons who don't care how you do it as long as it gets done?
All hail Megatron!
So, um, happy belated Blogging Against (Dis)able-ism Day!
My housemate vlogged about this after we discussed it. Let's see if I can successfully embed the video!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
And then it got wholly depressing
When last we met, I was venting about my terrible, horrible no-good, very bad day going to the neurologist. Why is it that, I say "I have this pain," the medical response is "maybe there's something wrong with your nerves!" Oh, fine, Doc, ignore everything else I am telling you. Let's placate you with playing Tiny Taser.
The neurologist was very nice, I must say. She did the usual poke, poke, pound, pound, before doing the electrical conduction test. What is an electrical conduction test, you ask, all doe-eyed and innocent. Why, it's two horrible things put together: being stuck repeatedly with needles, and being zapped with electricity! Yay! Doesn't that sound like fun? Doesn't that sound like it would be even more fun if you werealready so tired and in so much pain that you could barely pull yourself around? One thing it does, besides give you two kinds of pain you could have done without, is contract your already worn-out muscles. Yay! There's nothing better for exhausted muscles than forced contractions! Except the prospect of going to work right afterward and having to be on your feet and dealing with people.
After my torture session was finished, the neuro asked me to walk around a bit, which I did as much as I could, which is to say, I collapsed a couple of times when my leg buckled. Then we looked in tandem at the MRI results. I was pleased with this turn of events, since the previous neurologist I had seen not only didn't show me my MRI results, he hadn't seen them himself. The upshot of the whole thing was that she doesn't see any substantial nerve involvement. Some narrowing in a couple of discs and some bone spurs in the spine. But not enough to cause all my problems. This is no surprise to me, because I'm pretty damn sure that most of my problems come from the way my hip and knee slide all over the place. But what do I know? I just a person who inhabits this body.
So, let's go on to this week. Monday. Time to see the orthopedist for the follow-up. He tells me essentially the same thing as the neuro, and I tell him that the neuro had already told me all this, and that I wasn't surprised by it. Certainly not disappointed.
That's right, he says. If the nerves were involved, that would be very bad. All the things with the nerves would be huge problems that he couldn't do anything about.
Oh, I say, brightening, then what can we do?
"I can send you to a pain clinic for cortisone shots or you can do PT."
Now, this is not happy news, and I made that clear. I think I looked like I was about to cry, because he suddenly looked like he realized he had made some bad suggestions. I explained that I have done PT before, and that I found it pointless and exhausting. That I am open to PT only if it is going to do something to stabilize my joints. That I want pain relief, but not pain relief alone. That I need to be able to keep my job. That I fall down. Often.
Now he looked at me as if for the first time, as if I had mentioned joint instability for the first time. Jeesh. It was asked about in the new patient form. And I told him face to face. Really, why do I even fill these things out or bother with offering information before a doctor has done playing House?
"Do you use anything now to help with the instability?"
Duh. What's that black thing propped up in the corner next to me? Oh, yeah. It's called a "cane."
"Maybe a quad cane? Or a walker? Or a wheelchair?"
All that would be fine, I told him. That I actually have used those things under particular circumstances. Except that I couldn't use them and do my job. I explained about my job, what I do all day.
"There's nothing I can do, really, for intermittent instability."
"I wouldn't call it intermittent," I replied.
"Well, you don't fall down all the time."
!
!
!
No shit, Sherlock. This hardly makes me the Rock of Gibralter. There are houses of cards that stay up longer than I do, though. That's what I wanted to say. What I said was:
"There has to be something. I can't keep falling down at work. And I can't keep having this level of pain and get through a work week. Isn't there a brace or something? Can't it be that the joint instability and the nerve compression in my spine are making things worse together? Can't we do one thing to help?"
At this point, he finally thought to ask about my instability in my knee. He wanted to know which direction it is unstable in. That's easy. All of them. I showed him, saying that I'd be glad to just reduce the overall instability somehow, that maybe that would help the hip and the pain.
"How about a knee brace? Have you tried that?"
Oh, at last, we have gotten somewhere. No, I haven't tried a knee brace. Not a real one that actually fits and doesn't ride up or down my leg and lasts longer than a month of daily use. (Why haven't I? Because such things are prescription, and look at the trouble I have had in just getting this far. I swear, every medical device I have ever had prescribed has been gained only by me insisting that Something Be Done Now.)
So, now I have a knee brace that does seem to offer some degree of stability. So, that's nice. Though, so far, it hasn't actually helped with the pain, I am hopeful that it will after I get used to it.
But I told you in the subject that this experience is depressing. And it is. Because the reality is, I need to find another job. One that pays at least as much, if not more, and also has health benefits. And that I can use a quad cane, a walker, a wheelchair, while doing.* And I need to do it soon. In this economy. And I have to tell my supervisor this, because she is also my friend, and depends on me, and I don't want her to find out only when a reference check is made.
*There really isn't a good way to make my current job work out. The department is underfunded, understaffed, and overworked in an inappropriate facility with inappropriate furniture. Just ask the short people who have to get files out of the top cabinet drawers. We'd all love for our offices to be the experimental model for universal design. We'd also love to win the MegaMillion Jackpot.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
I could have done without that
Monday night was a hell night at work, the sort that leaves me knowing I will be in deep pain the next day. And when I awoke Tuesday to the sound of my cell phone alarm going off, reached over to grab it and then didn't feel it despite looking straight at my hand laying on top of the darn thing, I knew it was going to be a long day. A long day in which the "highlight" would be a nerve conductivity study on my legs and lower back. Yippee! What could be more fun? Maybe a hair dryer in my bathwater? Oh well. While I didn't expect anything useful to come from this study, it seems a necessary step since my doctors insist that joint problems can't possibly explain my pain and dysfunction. These are, of course, people who note that I am "unusually limber" and then don't want to hear it when I try to talk about family history of being unusually limber. (Any doctors who might read this: When your patient tells you what they consider to be an important part of their medical history, even if it doesn't seem important to you, that would be a good time for you to shut up the train of thought in your head and open your mind to maybe something useful being shared).
It is a good thing I had several hours to get from my bed to the doctor's office, because I needed every minute. I had hoped to stop at the hobby store and buy a sketch pad and some pencils, but being hardly able to move kind of ate into my time. As I finally threw myself into the driver's seat of my car, I noted that my left foot was buzzing. Fifteen minutes later, it had gone numb. Hey, why should my hand have all the fun?
I got to the medical complex, parked in the closest available handicap spot, and wondered if I would be able to make it in. Starting up the ramp to the sidewalk, it looked like the answer would be "no" because I didn't have enough momentum to force my left leg to swing forward. A woman maybe 20 years my senior was sitting in the vehicle next to mine, window down, watching me. "I'm stuck," I said as I manuevered a few steps from the ramp, "...try again." She laughed, "I have those days," the way only someone else who has been defeated by an ADA compliant ramp can laugh. With her moral support, I got up to the sidewalk and limped the 20 feet into the building.
The staff were waiting for me, which was great. I wouldn't have to fill anything out or even sign in. But then I was asked for my co-pay, which meant balancing to open my purse and dig out my wallet. I could feel my hip giving way and did what I have come to regard as the safest thing to do. I fell. No sense in fighting gravity. If I let myself fall, at least I can control the direction I fall. But it is damned embarrassing to fall in public. I fall in private nearly everyday, and just drag myself up. In public, I am a spectacle. Half a dozen hands reached out to lift me up. I chose the uninjured arm of a sturdy-looking man there with a hand fracture. It makes it easier to decline everyone else's help if I can pick the person least likely to fall on top of me.
I wasn't hurt, but I was shaken and exhausted from the effort of having to get up right away instead of being able to lie there a bit. I wasn't convinced at all that this was the last fall of the day, and I felt flustered for being the center of attention. I tried to read for the few minutes it took to be called to the exam room. As usual, the assistant started walking too fast. (Note to medical aides: If the person you are escorting has a cane, walk slowly. Stop to see if we can keep up.) In fairness, she did realize what she was doing before the door shut on me. That doesn't always happen. And then she was careful after that. The 10 feet to the exam room pretty much took out the rest of my energy reserves.
And then, the electrician showed up. I mean, neurologist. I'll try to talk about that tomorrow.
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