The other morning I was making breakfast, and as usual with this time of year, some Christmas tune or another was running through my head despite my intentions for it not to. It's pretty much impossible to go anywhere without hearing them. It's not that I don't like them, you see, it's simply that I would rather listen to them when I choose to, and while I was shopping for a dress at Macy's it was absolutely BLARING in the dressing rooms. Moments like that leave me wondering about everyone who isn't a Christian and how they feel about all those songs, and whether or not they're offended at being molested through their eardrums everywhere they go? I know I was annoyed all to hell, but mostly because it was so LOUD. And then I wonder about the stores themselves... I mean, I guess it's better to play the stuff and terrify people into buying more crap than worry about offending the people who can't be jolly terrified into capitalist pigdom, but I digress.
I was making breakfast, and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was running through my head. I could hear the familiar song plus the parts we kids would yell out, "They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games (LIKE MONOPOLY!)" I don't know why reindeer would play Monopoly, but then again, I don't know why ANYONE would. *yawn* So there I was, making some tea and pondering the plight of poor ostracized Rudolph, the cruelty of reindeer youth, and then suddenly hit on something I hadn't thought of before:
After all that bullshit, Rudolph was happy to pull the sleigh.
I mean, thinking in human terms, Rudolph would be a pretty pissed off reindeer, maybe have a mohawk and have a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, you know, blaring the Circle Jerks "Product Of My Environment" and generally copping an attitude. Instead he's all bounding into a harness and happy to save the day, right? What forgiveness! What compassion! Wow, you just don't find that kind of person (or reindeer) every day...
I told my bleary eyed early morning revelation to my husband who laughed and said, "Yeah...he's totally like...the Jesus of reindeer."
It's nice to be understood.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
photographic life
It's been too long since I had a camera that worked. My last camera slowly, slowly, slowly bit the dust, and oddly enough, actually ceased working as I was driving up to Michigan to see my family, the same trip in which my grandfather had a surgery he barely lived through, only to die shortly thereafter. I wondered, at the time, what sort of omen it was that my camera should cease to be, what it meant that I would not have any photographs of the time I was there. In retrospect, I'm glad. Well, mostly. It's not the way I would have wanted to remember him, and I suppose it's better if I let my memories of the event slide a bit as time goes on, instead of refreshing them with pictures...
But now I have a new camera, and while I'm still learning the various bells and whistles, I'm having a damn good time trying it out. There's something very magical about photography. Soothing. Therapeutic. It's as if I can make you see the world through my eyes, even if you don't translate the end product the same. I love looking at the photographs of friends, seeing the world as they see it. In some cases, it has surprised me to realize I have a greater respect for them than before, just to witness the world as they do.
Strange.
But now I have a new camera, and while I'm still learning the various bells and whistles, I'm having a damn good time trying it out. There's something very magical about photography. Soothing. Therapeutic. It's as if I can make you see the world through my eyes, even if you don't translate the end product the same. I love looking at the photographs of friends, seeing the world as they see it. In some cases, it has surprised me to realize I have a greater respect for them than before, just to witness the world as they do.
Strange.
stuck on moronics
I saw this bumper sticker this morning, and had to really think about this one:
"I would rather hunt with Dick Cheney
than drive with Ted Kennedy!"
My thought was this:
Who gives a shit? Is this some sort of deep philosophical question for the driver of this SUV? Who actually sits around pondering stupid worst case scenarios like that, other than comedians? Would I rather eat broken glass or watch a piranha eat my foot? How's that for a bumper sticker? Boy oh boy, I bet if I got THAT timeless conundrum printed on a piece of sticky plastic and affixed it to the bumper of my car, man, people would definitely have opinions about me! Yessirree bob! There would be thoughts being provoked simply while I idled at a light, hell, I wouldn't even need to be in the car, I could just park it somewhere suitably thought provoking, let's say, the Wal-Mart parking lot, and just watch the massive neurons firing explosively in people's brains when they drove by and saw THAT! Whooo, doggy! That'd shake them the hell up. Yah. I'm like, saving the world, one dumbass at a time, simply by having a bumper sticker. Undoubtedly, I have secured myself a place in heaven.
Unless Ted Kennedy is the driver...in that case I'll just have to go to hell.
"I would rather hunt with Dick Cheney
than drive with Ted Kennedy!"
My thought was this:
Who gives a shit? Is this some sort of deep philosophical question for the driver of this SUV? Who actually sits around pondering stupid worst case scenarios like that, other than comedians? Would I rather eat broken glass or watch a piranha eat my foot? How's that for a bumper sticker? Boy oh boy, I bet if I got THAT timeless conundrum printed on a piece of sticky plastic and affixed it to the bumper of my car, man, people would definitely have opinions about me! Yessirree bob! There would be thoughts being provoked simply while I idled at a light, hell, I wouldn't even need to be in the car, I could just park it somewhere suitably thought provoking, let's say, the Wal-Mart parking lot, and just watch the massive neurons firing explosively in people's brains when they drove by and saw THAT! Whooo, doggy! That'd shake them the hell up. Yah. I'm like, saving the world, one dumbass at a time, simply by having a bumper sticker. Undoubtedly, I have secured myself a place in heaven.
Unless Ted Kennedy is the driver...in that case I'll just have to go to hell.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
playing with Shatner and Mr. T
Both of these commercials crack me up, not that I give a rats ass about World of Warcraft. My son got to play a few hours of it when we went to go visit my brother before Labor Day. My brother apparently has spent quite some time hanging out with Shatner and Mr. T, and spent quite some time telling me the vivid tales of epic battles, cooperation efforts from strangers halfway around the world syncing up no matter what time zone they're all in so that they may battle some hideous beastie. He kept trying to tell my son, all of ten years old, that he needed to go by some flaying knife so he could skin a wolf or something, unaware that my vegetarian son was totally content just wandering around the infamous landscape he heard so much about and letting his pet panda follow him around, becoming especially excited when he stopped under water and the panda would "sleep" underwater until he started moving again.
It reminds me all too much of South Park, which is not World of Warcraft's fault. I saw the South Park episode before I ever knew much about the game, and it seemed to embody everything I imagined the game to be. Now the image is stuck, but I'm ok with that. It's not like I have time to run around and battle shit in another reality, I'm busy enough with this one for now.
stupid dark corner
Who hasn't heard the phrase, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all"? Mmm, that's kind of like my blogging for the last few months.
I do have great things to mention and discuss, dish and contemplate, but the moments I feel inspired to write seem to rarely coincide with the time I have the energy (of lack of pain) to write, or can access the computer.
A strangely big part of it is where our computer is. I hate it.
It's a nice room, oh very lovely in many ways, but the computer is tucked into the back corner, facing away from the windows. In our last apartment, it was in nearly the same position in the "dining room" (ha, like we eat in the "dining room"), except that dining room had a sliding glass door overlooking our grandiose (but rarely ever used, damn noisy jets) deck, which overlooked a gorgeous stand of trees that overlooked the bay. In the summer it was mostly all sunshine, trees and birds fluttering around behind the screen as I typed, quite a lovely treat. In the winter the trees were bare, showing through the bay that sparkled and shimmered, as I watched the tides pulling it in and up or out and down. During low tide the egrets could often be seen squelching through the mud eating whatever egrets eat, and during a high tide the hawks or eagles or whatever those eye watering large birds were could be seen perched in the pines and then swooping down to snatch lunch out of the water.
What I'm trying to say is this computer placement is totally Funk Shui. It's like Feng Shui but with some stinky cheese instead of chi. As I sat out on the porch yesterday, happily breaking my back in the effort of repotting plants, I realized I missed my view from the computer. It double blows, because we've invested in the ergonomic keyboard (that I'm finally getting used to) and the $450 super ergonomic office chair. I know, it sounds insane until you actual have one (I'm pretty sure that's the one we have) and can adjust every freaking thing until you have ultimate support, everywhere. It really has me hooked, so just getting a laptop and sitting in the other room is not the same, although it's starting to look more promising than this dark corner.
I am manifestation, hear me roar.
I do have great things to mention and discuss, dish and contemplate, but the moments I feel inspired to write seem to rarely coincide with the time I have the energy (of lack of pain) to write, or can access the computer.
A strangely big part of it is where our computer is. I hate it.
It's a nice room, oh very lovely in many ways, but the computer is tucked into the back corner, facing away from the windows. In our last apartment, it was in nearly the same position in the "dining room" (ha, like we eat in the "dining room"), except that dining room had a sliding glass door overlooking our grandiose (but rarely ever used, damn noisy jets) deck, which overlooked a gorgeous stand of trees that overlooked the bay. In the summer it was mostly all sunshine, trees and birds fluttering around behind the screen as I typed, quite a lovely treat. In the winter the trees were bare, showing through the bay that sparkled and shimmered, as I watched the tides pulling it in and up or out and down. During low tide the egrets could often be seen squelching through the mud eating whatever egrets eat, and during a high tide the hawks or eagles or whatever those eye watering large birds were could be seen perched in the pines and then swooping down to snatch lunch out of the water.
What I'm trying to say is this computer placement is totally Funk Shui. It's like Feng Shui but with some stinky cheese instead of chi. As I sat out on the porch yesterday, happily breaking my back in the effort of repotting plants, I realized I missed my view from the computer. It double blows, because we've invested in the ergonomic keyboard (that I'm finally getting used to) and the $450 super ergonomic office chair. I know, it sounds insane until you actual have one (I'm pretty sure that's the one we have) and can adjust every freaking thing until you have ultimate support, everywhere. It really has me hooked, so just getting a laptop and sitting in the other room is not the same, although it's starting to look more promising than this dark corner.
I am manifestation, hear me roar.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
I lost count, but I think I got about ten of these today.
Trigger points are discrete, focal, hyperirritable spots located in a taut band of skeletal muscle. They produce pain locally and in a referred pattern and often accompany chronic musculoskeletal disorders. Acute trauma or repetitive microtrauma may lead to the development of stress on muscle fibers and the formation of trigger points. Patients may have regional, persistent pain resulting in a decreased range of motion in the affected muscles. These include muscles used to maintain body posture, such as those in the neck, shoulders, and pelvic girdle. Trigger points may also manifest as tension headache, tinnitus, temporomandibular joint pain, decreased range of motion in the legs, and low back pain. Palpation of a hypersensitive bundle or nodule of muscle fiber of harder than normal consistency is the physical finding typically associated with a trigger point. Palpation of the trigger point will elicit pain directly over the affected area and/or cause radiation of pain toward a zone of reference and a local twitch response. Various modalities, such as the Spray and Stretch technique, ultrasonography, manipulative therapy and injection, are used to inactivate trigger points. Trigger-point injection has been shown to be one of the most effective treatment modalities to inactivate trigger points and provide prompt relief of symptoms. (Am Fam Physician 2002;65:653-60. Copyright© 2002 American Academy of Family Physicians.)
FIGURE 3. Cross-sectional schematic drawing of flat palpation to localize and hold the trigger point (dark red spot) for injection. (A, B) Use of alternating pressure between two fingers to confirm the location of the palpable nodule of the trigger point. (C) Positioning of the trigger point halfway between the fingers to keep it from sliding to one side during the injection. Injection is away from fingers, which have pinned down the trigger point so that it cannot slide away from the needle. Dotted outline indicates additional probing to explore for additional adjacent trigger points. The fingers are pressing downward and apart to maintain pressure for hemostasis.
Once a trigger point has been located and the overlying skin has been cleansed with alcohol, the clinician isolates that point with a pinch between the thumb and index finger or between the index and middle finger, whichever is most comfortable (Figures 3a and 3b). Using sterile technique, the needle is then inserted 1 to 2 cm away from the trigger point so that the needle may be advanced into the trigger point at an acute angle of 30 degrees to the skin. The stabilizing fingers apply pressure on either side of the injection site, ensuring adequate tension of the muscle fibers to allow penetration of the trigger point but preventing it from rolling away from the advancing needle. The application of pressure also helps to prevent bleeding within the subcutaneous tissues and the subsequent irritation to the muscle that the bleeding may produce. The serious complication of pneumothorax can be avoided by refraining from aiming the needle at an intercostal space.
Before advancing the needle into the trigger point, the physician should warn the patient of the possibility of sharp pain, muscle twitching, or an unpleasant sensation as the needle contacts the taut muscular band. To ensure that the needle is not within a blood vessel, the plunger should be withdrawn before injec tion. A small amount (0.2 mL) of anesthetic should be injected once the needle is inside the trigger point. The needle is then withdrawn to the level of the subcutaneous tissue, then redirected superiorly, inferiorly, laterally and medially, repeating the needling and injection process in each direction until the local twitch response is no longer elicited or resisting muscle tautness is no longer perceived.
After injection, the area should be palpated to ensure that no other tender points exist. If additional tender points are palpable, they should be isolated, needled and injected. Pressure is then applied to the injected area for two minutes to promote hemostasis.
FIGURE 3. Cross-sectional schematic drawing of flat palpation to localize and hold the trigger point (dark red spot) for injection. (A, B) Use of alternating pressure between two fingers to confirm the location of the palpable nodule of the trigger point. (C) Positioning of the trigger point halfway between the fingers to keep it from sliding to one side during the injection. Injection is away from fingers, which have pinned down the trigger point so that it cannot slide away from the needle. Dotted outline indicates additional probing to explore for additional adjacent trigger points. The fingers are pressing downward and apart to maintain pressure for hemostasis.
Once a trigger point has been located and the overlying skin has been cleansed with alcohol, the clinician isolates that point with a pinch between the thumb and index finger or between the index and middle finger, whichever is most comfortable (Figures 3a and 3b). Using sterile technique, the needle is then inserted 1 to 2 cm away from the trigger point so that the needle may be advanced into the trigger point at an acute angle of 30 degrees to the skin. The stabilizing fingers apply pressure on either side of the injection site, ensuring adequate tension of the muscle fibers to allow penetration of the trigger point but preventing it from rolling away from the advancing needle. The application of pressure also helps to prevent bleeding within the subcutaneous tissues and the subsequent irritation to the muscle that the bleeding may produce. The serious complication of pneumothorax can be avoided by refraining from aiming the needle at an intercostal space.
Before advancing the needle into the trigger point, the physician should warn the patient of the possibility of sharp pain, muscle twitching, or an unpleasant sensation as the needle contacts the taut muscular band. To ensure that the needle is not within a blood vessel, the plunger should be withdrawn before injec tion. A small amount (0.2 mL) of anesthetic should be injected once the needle is inside the trigger point. The needle is then withdrawn to the level of the subcutaneous tissue, then redirected superiorly, inferiorly, laterally and medially, repeating the needling and injection process in each direction until the local twitch response is no longer elicited or resisting muscle tautness is no longer perceived.
After injection, the area should be palpated to ensure that no other tender points exist. If additional tender points are palpable, they should be isolated, needled and injected. Pressure is then applied to the injected area for two minutes to promote hemostasis.
Friday, December 07, 2007
check yourself
Over the past few years, both my husband and I have been on a quest to erase every bad financial mistake we made in our youth, doing that "Wow, we've grown up and care about our credit ratings" things that most teenagers think will never happen to them, oh no.
Things are great, other than these annoying letters that still occasionally come from some collection agency or other that has not bothered paying attention to the letters we send them, stating the accounts are either cleared or so old that they know they haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of collecting on them. Despite the very legal mumbo jumbo we send them, informing them that they are infringing upon our legal rights by continuing this crapola, they send us more letters, maybe about three a year.
The latest one had me snorting so hard in derisive contempt I had to blog the letter. It's just TOO stupid. I mean, how can anyone write drivel like that and still take themselves seriously?
"Your utter lack of cooperation has convinced us that the extra consideration extended in your behalf in unappreciated.
Frankly, we doubt that you deserve further consideration and we now insist that you pay your balance in full within forty eight hours."
Where to begin? We've sent them certified mail with copies of their letters, our letters, and being oh so proper about it, but this last one had me in a tizzy. I turned to Jack, shaking the offending paper in my hand and saying, "Our UTTER lack of cooperation!" and "Extra consideration extended in our behalf!" followed by, "Frankly!", "We deserve!", "They insist!", and "Forty eight hours! Forty eight hours! Do they even realize they are sending this letter via SNAIL MAIL? It wouldn't even get to us in forty eight hours! How are they proposing to start timing that, a league of psychic letter opener sensors? HOW RETARDED!" and finally ending my rant with, "I want to wipe my ass with this paper and send it back to them with the note, 'Here is my utter lack of cooperation and my further consideration, to be frank.'" Jack just looked at me sternly and said I absolutely cannot do that. "Fucking duh!" I responded, "But seriously, what a self righteous pile of bullshit!" He nodded.
Let them use THAT information obtained to be used in their attempt to collect a debt.
Asshats.
Things are great, other than these annoying letters that still occasionally come from some collection agency or other that has not bothered paying attention to the letters we send them, stating the accounts are either cleared or so old that they know they haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of collecting on them. Despite the very legal mumbo jumbo we send them, informing them that they are infringing upon our legal rights by continuing this crapola, they send us more letters, maybe about three a year.
The latest one had me snorting so hard in derisive contempt I had to blog the letter. It's just TOO stupid. I mean, how can anyone write drivel like that and still take themselves seriously?
"Your utter lack of cooperation has convinced us that the extra consideration extended in your behalf in unappreciated.
Frankly, we doubt that you deserve further consideration and we now insist that you pay your balance in full within forty eight hours."
Where to begin? We've sent them certified mail with copies of their letters, our letters, and being oh so proper about it, but this last one had me in a tizzy. I turned to Jack, shaking the offending paper in my hand and saying, "Our UTTER lack of cooperation!" and "Extra consideration extended in our behalf!" followed by, "Frankly!", "We deserve!", "They insist!", and "Forty eight hours! Forty eight hours! Do they even realize they are sending this letter via SNAIL MAIL? It wouldn't even get to us in forty eight hours! How are they proposing to start timing that, a league of psychic letter opener sensors? HOW RETARDED!" and finally ending my rant with, "I want to wipe my ass with this paper and send it back to them with the note, 'Here is my utter lack of cooperation and my further consideration, to be frank.'" Jack just looked at me sternly and said I absolutely cannot do that. "Fucking duh!" I responded, "But seriously, what a self righteous pile of bullshit!" He nodded.
Let them use THAT information obtained to be used in their attempt to collect a debt.
Asshats.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
winter wonder land
The title is written correctly. It's meant to convey,
"I wonder where the hell winter is?"
I haven't seen real snow in years.
I get it, I moved to the beach. What I didn't foresee was the weird effect the coast has on the weather, i.e. in can snow twelve inches a few miles inland, but here we don't see it. It magically blows away. I know this because I watch storms on the radar and can see it happen. For that matter, I was at the pool one day, in the last place we lived (even closer to the beach) and I watched the wind blow in from the east and clouds formed literally overhead, then went inland, westward. It was bizarre to watch.
Regardless, I saw some snow flurries last Easter for a few hours, and that was it for snow last year.
Right now the forecast tells me there's flurries on the way. I feel like crap this morning, but now I fell I must plaster my nose to the window, watching like a puppy waiting for it's master to come home. There might be snowflakes.
Growing up in Michigan, I didn't think I would ever be so impressed by snowflakes. Blizzard, sure, that's cool. But some water crystals formed into ice patterns floating through the air? I'd have laughed.
Well, the jokes on me. (Looks out the window and wags tail, expectantly.)
Any minute... maybe this year...
"I wonder where the hell winter is?"
I haven't seen real snow in years.
I get it, I moved to the beach. What I didn't foresee was the weird effect the coast has on the weather, i.e. in can snow twelve inches a few miles inland, but here we don't see it. It magically blows away. I know this because I watch storms on the radar and can see it happen. For that matter, I was at the pool one day, in the last place we lived (even closer to the beach) and I watched the wind blow in from the east and clouds formed literally overhead, then went inland, westward. It was bizarre to watch.
Regardless, I saw some snow flurries last Easter for a few hours, and that was it for snow last year.
Right now the forecast tells me there's flurries on the way. I feel like crap this morning, but now I fell I must plaster my nose to the window, watching like a puppy waiting for it's master to come home. There might be snowflakes.
Growing up in Michigan, I didn't think I would ever be so impressed by snowflakes. Blizzard, sure, that's cool. But some water crystals formed into ice patterns floating through the air? I'd have laughed.
Well, the jokes on me. (Looks out the window and wags tail, expectantly.)
Any minute... maybe this year...
Monday, December 03, 2007
chimney dog
There's something wrong with the top of our chimney. Something is loose. Metal, perhaps. It tends to make a horrid screeching noise in the wind, and sounds bizarrely like a barking dog.
Now every time there's a nice blustering day, I can't sit in the living room without hearing some mystical nonexistent chimney dog endlessly barking at me.
It's like ceiling cat only really noisy.
Now every time there's a nice blustering day, I can't sit in the living room without hearing some mystical nonexistent chimney dog endlessly barking at me.
It's like ceiling cat only really noisy.
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