I'm a pretty reserved person now that I'm a bit older, when I was younger I enjoyed a lot of adventurous activities and events but I've never really been the wild one of the group. Someone commented to me recently that I was always there - but never really in the middle of it. I think I was cautious and I hope, a bit wise during those times. I've always enjoyed migrating to a quiet corner and watching the party happen around me, watching the people around me - people's behaviors fascinate me. There are lots of places I frequent now during the morning of my adulthood where the people watching is fantastic.
For instance - the BMV (or, depending on where you live; the DMV or Secretary of State). Here in Indiana we call it the BMV or Bureau of Motor Vehicles. What ever you call it, you should plan on taking a day off work to get your tags or license renewed. The one thing the BMV is not short on is a line of customers. It never fails and it doesn't matter what state you live in or what time of day you go; the experience is long, boring and almost always frustrating. I urge you to double check that you have everything you could possibly need before you get in line as you'll undoubtedly forget a very important document otherwise and have to make a second trip which will make for an even more miserable experience.
I was at the BMV recently (remember my new car Jackie Blue? I needed to make her legal which meant a trip to the Sheriff's office for a VIN check and then a trip to the BMV for tags n' such), ahead of me in line was a younger guy who's face I couldn't see but I did see his pink-plaid light weight shirt, stone washed jeans with very worn out cuffs and his flip flops (no socks, thank God.) He had light straw yellow hair that was cut in a shaggy "surfer-boy" manner. He was having a very hushed and heated conversation with the attendant, I coulnd't hear what they were saying but the boy abruptly spun on his flops and in a very loud and frustrated voice said; "You should...be... more...*sputter sputter*....Specific!" and with that he stormed off to find the important document he obviously left at home. The attendant gave a highly annoyed stare which ended in her rolling her eyes and dryly calling out "Next!"
When it was my turn at the counter I was happy to discover that I had not forgotten anything (Rick had literally "over-packed" me before I left the house, I had more than I needed.) and so I was scooted along to the next waiting area. The only good thing about the BMV and the long waiting lines is the people watching ends up being pretty good entertainment. While I waited for my name to be called by the cashier I watched a young kid (16 or 17 I assume, I think in IN you have to be 17 to get a license, although he didn't look a day over 14) who was clearly very excited to be getting his drivers license. He bounced around in his seat impatiently and talked excitedly with a young girl I took for his little sister. They both appeared to be in jolly moods which I appreciated.
Across from me sat a middle aged woman who was a kind of mild version of a "biker chick". I noticed that her black tank top had eyelits which peaked through to her rather intricate floral tattoo that crawled around the edges of her chest and shoulder over onto the top of her arm and neck. While I was admiring her tattoo she was chatting up a man wearing a dark tan suit who wore square glasses and thinning hair. He was really more "quiet nerd" than anything else. They were not together but the woman had begun to chat up the man while in line to check in. I think they were from the same town in northern Michigan because they kept talking about Petoskey. The woman's silver bracelets jangled and clanged as she spoke with animation about the weather on the beach in the summer time. I wanted to join in with them as I have spent some wonderful time in Petoskey and could relate to their conversation, I felt it would be rude to butt in so instead I sat listening to them while playing with my phone to appear inconspicuous.
Down the aisle from us was a mid 30's cat with one of those hip paige boy hats on. He wasn't chatting with anyone, reading a book or playing on his phone. He was doing the same thing I was doing - people watching and eaves dropping in on conversations - but he wasn't covering up the evidence by checking his Facebook while sneaking glances around the room and just listening, instead he was just as obvious as can be, staring at everyone. It felt oddly rude to me even though I was engaged in the same activity. I tried not to look at him too much and was thankful my experience was quick and painless and I was out of there in about 25 minutes. Which, by the way, seems like some kind of record to me.
Another place I frequent that has good people watching is the grocery store. I do my grocery shopping every weekend with the occassional trip during the week for either forgotten list items, or random missing ingredients for some new recipe I want to try. Needless to say, I'm there a lot. I have a friend who makes fun of me for the amount of time I spend there. And the worst part is that I really don't enjoy these trips; there's always too many people to manouvre the wiggly-wheeled cart around and the packing (cart) and unpacking (check out) and packing (car) and unpacking (home) of the groceries is a pain in the ass. And for some reason there's always gotta be one item I can't find or have forgotten to grab and I end up wandering from one end of the store to the other trying to find it. But also, I have this horrible urge to peak into other shopper's carts to see what they are buying and then judge their lives accordingly so of course I assume they are doing that to me as well, which in reverse feels like a horrible invasion of privacy which then makes me feel guilty.
Once, years ago, when I was checking out and the bag boy said; "wow, can I have dinner at your place?", I started to wonder about the food I was buying and what other people insinuated about my life based on those items. Was I buying an overabundance of child-like foods that would make this young pimpley-faced kid want to join me for a meal? That was mildly worrisome. This event sparked my curiosity about what people shop for and what this says about their lives, and I find I'm unable to help myself from sneaking peaks as shoppers pass by me in the aisles.
I stopped by the store on my way home from work the other day because we were going to have hamburgers for dinner and we needed bacon for the burgers and my husband had a craving for corn on the cob so I got some of that as well. While I was checking out in the "Express Lane" a couple pulled their cart in behind me and I glanced over to see what they were buying. They must have had about nine 6-packs of Diet Pepsi, they were in bottles and hung all the way around the side of the cart. It was hard to see what else was in the cart but I saw some green foliage so they must have been buying plants or flowers in the small flowershop the grocery store has. I wondered if it was someone's birthday party they were stocking up for. I wondered who the plants were for. I wondered what their house was like, would that plant hang from their front portch? I wondered if the paint was pealing on their front portch. I wondered if they had kids. I wondered why they were arguing about whether they could stay in the Express Lane or not. I wondered if the Pepsi was on sale.
Recently I had an opportunity to observe what women are like while at a home party. You know the kind - Lia Sophia, Party Light, Pampered Chef etc. There's a certain etiquette involved with these parties. An air of politeness hovers all around. Everyone smiles, laughs at the jokes, plays the games and participates in the "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" where appropriate. While I was at this party, playing the role I have learned to play, I witnessed one woman who refused to have a good time. Every suggestion that was made to her by the Consultant was shot down with a rude interpretation of the product. I began to wonder why this person came at all, and why the hell she was sitting next to me. If you don't like the type of stuff the woman is selling - why are you here? The better question was why did this woman feel the need to be so vocal about her dislike? Wouldn't the more prudent thing be to sit quietly and enjoy the free food until this apparent inconvenience was over? I'm just saying. If there's one thing we learn as we grow, it's how to interpret events and determine the best behavior for the situation.
Socially acceptable behavior is what I'm talking about. I haven't always agreed with the notion, but the older I get the more I see it's uses. The party would have been a much better time had the Debbie Downer not showed up is all I'm saying. It's a shame really; the girl was a pretty thing with silky brown hair and big round eyes but her rudeness was so abundant that she appeared ugly to me. I tried to help the Consultant out by making my own suggestions to Debbie Downer, but it was a useless effort. She was dead set on having a miserable time and taking the rest of us down with her. I guess this one life lesson was lost on her.
I don't know what any of this blog means. I don't know if any of us are doing it right, but I sure am enjoying watching y'all go through it with me.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Taste of a Spring Tradition
The weather has been really crazy lately and this has me thinking about spring seasons that have come before. Traditionally we believe that spring should be slightly warmer than the bitter cold months of winter. We are ok with rain because we know its the rain that will usher in the beautiful colors of summer. One thing we generally don't appreciate in the spring is more snow. By the time April rolls around here in the Midwest we've about had as much snow and sleet and cold that we can take. We've had enough of the gloom and humdrum of gray winter days and are ready for the sun to shine and brighten our moods. One of my favorite moments in spring is the first day I can open up the windows and let the fresh spring air breeze through the house. The smell of fresh crisp air always puts me in a good mood. My cats love it too. When they see me reaching for the crank and start to open the windows wide they get very excited and rush over to the nearest window and shove their little cat faces into the screens. They will sit in the sills for hours on end just bathing in the light freshness of the outdoors. They never get to go outside so this is a nice treat for them.
This spring has been a rash of up and down weather which has been more of a tease than a treat. One day it's in the sixties and the sun is shining and the next it's in the thirties and snowing. I'm not sure what this means as far as Mother Nature is concerned, but for us mere mortals it is quite frustrating. Here we are on the doorstep of May and its still too cold to open the windows. Just last week my friends in Michigan told me it was snowing again! Thankfully here in Indiana we did not have to endure yet another cold brush with the white stuff, but it has not been very warm either. It doesn't surprise me a whole lot that the weather has been so unpredictable this year, it's not the first time in my life that the weather in April has been crazy and I'm sure it won't be the last.
This weather makes me think of something else though, it reminds me of my wedding day six years ago. We had decided to get married on our "dating" anniversary in April (probably so my Husband wouldn't have to try and remember a different anniversary date, he had this one already committed to memory so why confuse the poor man?). Because we are originally from the Midwest and are all too familiar with how fickle the spring can be we decided that our wedding should be indoors just in case. I was a little bummed to make this determination because I had initially wanted our wedding either at the Butterfly House at the Detroit Zoo or the Conservatory on Bel Isle, but rational thinking got the better of me and we decided the wedding should be held inside, so we settled on the Church I grew up in and the Pub that had become our second home due to my Husband's other job as a musician.
The morning of our wedding started out fair enough, there didn't appear to be any major warnings of bad weather headed our way but by the time the ceremony started so had the sleet, snow and high velocity bitter cold winds. Just our luck. So while I do find it completely annoying for this coldness to hang on for so long, it does not surprise me in the slightest.
Speaking of weddings, my six/eleven year anniversary is this Sunday. We've been together for eleven years and married for six. It didn't happen until recently that we developed a true annual anniversary celebration. Something that we can do every year and enjoy thoroughly. We aren't the typical traditional kind of couple, which is probably one of the reasons we get along so famously; we like our relationship like our lives - slighly off center. This does not mean that we never celebrate our relationship and it's history, we certainly do but it has never been the same thing from year to year. Three years ago we discovered this wonderful little fish market called Paula's here in town and have decided we will celebrate our anniversary there from now on. Before Paula's we had done the basic dinner at home, date night out, cards and gifts etc. Nothing too terribly exciting. Paula's is the kind of place you have to plan ahead for, its a bit pricey - ok it's a lot pricey, definitely the kind of place we can only enjoy once a year. This only makes it all the more exciting when it's time to make our reservation. For the past week my taste buds have been tingling in anticipation of what wonderful dish will be their delight in only a few short days.
One of my favorite things about Paula's is the interior decor. Nothing matches. The tables are all made of various types of wood or wrought iron, the chairs vary from plastic to wood to wrought iron. The placewear is all different styles and colors. On the walls you'll find everything from local artist paintings to garage sale sculptures. The whole place is a mish mash of whatever the owner could bring in locally. I'm sure some ritzy foody would disagree with me here, but personally I find the mix of color and texture very pleasant. It only makes the atmosphere that much more charming. And even though we have to save our pennies to afford dinner we can still wear jeans and feel totally at ease in our seats. No jacket or tie required.
What you end up paying for is the food instead of the silverware, which is the way it should be. Another clever thing about Paula's is the fact that it truly is a Fish Market. The entrance to the restaurant is actually a small foyer with a glass case filled with the days freshest selections of seafood. They run a small storefront there with all the hollering of prices and cuts just like something out of the movies. So what you see in the market is what you will be enjoying on your plate later during your meal.
Now, I've never been a big seafood eater and I have a couple of reasons why, the first is that I have always had an affinity towards the sea. Anything to do with the Ocean and it's inhabitants have facinated me my whole life. When I was younger I used to fancy the idea I would one day be a Marine Biologist. I love sea creatures. They are quirky and strange and fun to watch and explore. I always thought that they held some kind of secret that I longed to hear. The thought of eating one of these creatures turned my stomach. Is there a term for that? Think of a vegetarian but for seafood. I am not now nor will I ever be a vegetarian in the traditional sense of the word, I am from the Midwest so I'm perfectly comfortable eating meat and fully understand how the steak made it to my plate. For some reason I don't feel the same way about Cows as I do about the Salmon.
The second reason is that when I was younger my Mom had the brilliant idea to cook Shark. For what reason I have no idea, I was too small to remember any of the details surrounding this dinner decision but what I do remember is the smell. That horrid, putrid fishy smell of the shark cooking in our kitchen, it overwhelmed the entire house. Ever since then I've had an aversion to anything seafood. Over the years I've tried several different types of seafood including but not limited to; Red Snapper, Shrimp (I cannot, I say cannot handle the peal and eat kind!), Crab (and crab cakes), Lobster, Salmon and Talapia. The latter two being the only that I cared for in the slightest and also the only two that I eat with any degree of regularity. I know you health nuts out there are going to harp on me for not eating more fish but I just don't care for it. Over the past eleven years my husband has slowly but surely been introducing me to various different types of seafood so my fish eating has gotten more regular. He loves seafood and can't quite understand why I don't enjoy it as much as he does. He has made it his mission in life to get me to try and eat more fish and pressuring me into saying that I actually like it. I have finally conceded the fact that Talapia and Salmon are mild enough that I do enjoy them (with enough seasoning) that they are now a part of our regular weekly rotation of dinner meals.
I have no doubt however that when we order our meals at Paula's my husband will order the Surf and Turf and I will order the Turf (thankfully they have a small variety of land animals to choose from), I will probably have a couple bites of his Lobster (sold at "market price" yikes!) to appease his need for me to expand my tastebuds, but I can't bring myself to order a whole meal of seafood. I am also looking forward to the appetizer and salad I will be having on Sunday. They make this fried Boursin cheese dish with raspberry drizzle over croutons that is simply delectable. The Ceasar salad is wonderful as well, the dressing is rather mild in comparison to other restaurants and they don't drown the lettuce in the dressing either which I appreciate. On the whole, a meal at Paula's will run us quite a few duckets but it is worth every penny and so worth the wait.
The weather report says it will be cold and rainy for our anniversary this year, which is appropriate since it was sleeting on our wedding day, nothing like keeping with the tradition. Regardless of what the weather does I know that we will enjoy ourselves and eat like Kings and Queens on our special day.
This spring has been a rash of up and down weather which has been more of a tease than a treat. One day it's in the sixties and the sun is shining and the next it's in the thirties and snowing. I'm not sure what this means as far as Mother Nature is concerned, but for us mere mortals it is quite frustrating. Here we are on the doorstep of May and its still too cold to open the windows. Just last week my friends in Michigan told me it was snowing again! Thankfully here in Indiana we did not have to endure yet another cold brush with the white stuff, but it has not been very warm either. It doesn't surprise me a whole lot that the weather has been so unpredictable this year, it's not the first time in my life that the weather in April has been crazy and I'm sure it won't be the last.
This weather makes me think of something else though, it reminds me of my wedding day six years ago. We had decided to get married on our "dating" anniversary in April (probably so my Husband wouldn't have to try and remember a different anniversary date, he had this one already committed to memory so why confuse the poor man?). Because we are originally from the Midwest and are all too familiar with how fickle the spring can be we decided that our wedding should be indoors just in case. I was a little bummed to make this determination because I had initially wanted our wedding either at the Butterfly House at the Detroit Zoo or the Conservatory on Bel Isle, but rational thinking got the better of me and we decided the wedding should be held inside, so we settled on the Church I grew up in and the Pub that had become our second home due to my Husband's other job as a musician.
The morning of our wedding started out fair enough, there didn't appear to be any major warnings of bad weather headed our way but by the time the ceremony started so had the sleet, snow and high velocity bitter cold winds. Just our luck. So while I do find it completely annoying for this coldness to hang on for so long, it does not surprise me in the slightest.
Speaking of weddings, my six/eleven year anniversary is this Sunday. We've been together for eleven years and married for six. It didn't happen until recently that we developed a true annual anniversary celebration. Something that we can do every year and enjoy thoroughly. We aren't the typical traditional kind of couple, which is probably one of the reasons we get along so famously; we like our relationship like our lives - slighly off center. This does not mean that we never celebrate our relationship and it's history, we certainly do but it has never been the same thing from year to year. Three years ago we discovered this wonderful little fish market called Paula's here in town and have decided we will celebrate our anniversary there from now on. Before Paula's we had done the basic dinner at home, date night out, cards and gifts etc. Nothing too terribly exciting. Paula's is the kind of place you have to plan ahead for, its a bit pricey - ok it's a lot pricey, definitely the kind of place we can only enjoy once a year. This only makes it all the more exciting when it's time to make our reservation. For the past week my taste buds have been tingling in anticipation of what wonderful dish will be their delight in only a few short days.
One of my favorite things about Paula's is the interior decor. Nothing matches. The tables are all made of various types of wood or wrought iron, the chairs vary from plastic to wood to wrought iron. The placewear is all different styles and colors. On the walls you'll find everything from local artist paintings to garage sale sculptures. The whole place is a mish mash of whatever the owner could bring in locally. I'm sure some ritzy foody would disagree with me here, but personally I find the mix of color and texture very pleasant. It only makes the atmosphere that much more charming. And even though we have to save our pennies to afford dinner we can still wear jeans and feel totally at ease in our seats. No jacket or tie required.
What you end up paying for is the food instead of the silverware, which is the way it should be. Another clever thing about Paula's is the fact that it truly is a Fish Market. The entrance to the restaurant is actually a small foyer with a glass case filled with the days freshest selections of seafood. They run a small storefront there with all the hollering of prices and cuts just like something out of the movies. So what you see in the market is what you will be enjoying on your plate later during your meal.
Now, I've never been a big seafood eater and I have a couple of reasons why, the first is that I have always had an affinity towards the sea. Anything to do with the Ocean and it's inhabitants have facinated me my whole life. When I was younger I used to fancy the idea I would one day be a Marine Biologist. I love sea creatures. They are quirky and strange and fun to watch and explore. I always thought that they held some kind of secret that I longed to hear. The thought of eating one of these creatures turned my stomach. Is there a term for that? Think of a vegetarian but for seafood. I am not now nor will I ever be a vegetarian in the traditional sense of the word, I am from the Midwest so I'm perfectly comfortable eating meat and fully understand how the steak made it to my plate. For some reason I don't feel the same way about Cows as I do about the Salmon.
The second reason is that when I was younger my Mom had the brilliant idea to cook Shark. For what reason I have no idea, I was too small to remember any of the details surrounding this dinner decision but what I do remember is the smell. That horrid, putrid fishy smell of the shark cooking in our kitchen, it overwhelmed the entire house. Ever since then I've had an aversion to anything seafood. Over the years I've tried several different types of seafood including but not limited to; Red Snapper, Shrimp (I cannot, I say cannot handle the peal and eat kind!), Crab (and crab cakes), Lobster, Salmon and Talapia. The latter two being the only that I cared for in the slightest and also the only two that I eat with any degree of regularity. I know you health nuts out there are going to harp on me for not eating more fish but I just don't care for it. Over the past eleven years my husband has slowly but surely been introducing me to various different types of seafood so my fish eating has gotten more regular. He loves seafood and can't quite understand why I don't enjoy it as much as he does. He has made it his mission in life to get me to try and eat more fish and pressuring me into saying that I actually like it. I have finally conceded the fact that Talapia and Salmon are mild enough that I do enjoy them (with enough seasoning) that they are now a part of our regular weekly rotation of dinner meals.
I have no doubt however that when we order our meals at Paula's my husband will order the Surf and Turf and I will order the Turf (thankfully they have a small variety of land animals to choose from), I will probably have a couple bites of his Lobster (sold at "market price" yikes!) to appease his need for me to expand my tastebuds, but I can't bring myself to order a whole meal of seafood. I am also looking forward to the appetizer and salad I will be having on Sunday. They make this fried Boursin cheese dish with raspberry drizzle over croutons that is simply delectable. The Ceasar salad is wonderful as well, the dressing is rather mild in comparison to other restaurants and they don't drown the lettuce in the dressing either which I appreciate. On the whole, a meal at Paula's will run us quite a few duckets but it is worth every penny and so worth the wait.
The weather report says it will be cold and rainy for our anniversary this year, which is appropriate since it was sleeting on our wedding day, nothing like keeping with the tradition. Regardless of what the weather does I know that we will enjoy ourselves and eat like Kings and Queens on our special day.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Where the Lost Socks Go
I'm sorry but the coin laundry is a depressing place. I don't care what your reasons are for being there the coin laundry is a sad, dismal place with ancient machines, stale snacks and broken down seating. It's hot and stuffy and smells of fried dryer sheets and body odor.
When I moved out on my own I had to make regular weekly trips to the coin laundry, because honestly what 20-something can afford to buy their own washing and drying machines? So every week I'd gather my wads of change, geared with at least one magazine but preferably a good book and haul my load up to the laundrymat . There's nothing more boring than sitting at the laundrymat watching clothes spin and dry for hours that never seem to end.
There's a certain etiquette one must follow while withering the time away watching the spin cycle. You must make sure to give your fellow coin droppers a wide berth so as to allow plenty of space to spread out and fold their piles of personals. You'll need to give yourself a good 5 to 10 minutes of adjusting to the atmosphere before enganging your neighbor with polite conversation. You don't want to startle anyone. Everyone is slightly on edge, keeping an eye on their things and vying for positioning, so just give yourself a few moments to spot the Omega before cramming your way in there.
By the time I was married I had officially graduated from the coin laundry to my very own in home washer and dryer. My first house was rather small so we had to use the "apartment" size machines - you know the type? The washer is on the bottom and the dryer is attached to the top so it fits into a small space? It was a good machine and I was very grateful to have it. It's the same thing when you've spent your whole life washing dishes by hand and then finally get a dishwasher. Oh it's fabulous! Have you experienced this little life pleasure? I don't think I can ever go back to washing my dishes by hand, now that I've been spoiled with the dishwasher's ease of use and delightful ability to allow me the time to accomplish other chores while it works it's wonders. Right now for instance - the dishwasher is gently running it's cycle while I write this blog. My hands are not dried out nor slighly burned from the hot water and my nails are not chipping. And I have time to write which is clearly the best part.
Unfortunately machines are just machines and they are subject to breaking down from time to time. Sometimes they break down due to user error (like the time I forgot to empty the lint trap and it got all clogged up), and sometimes they break down due to age and excess use. Machines need regular maintenance and without this they tend to get crabby and break down. Thankfully I have a husband who can fix just about anything that needs fixing around the house. He's quite handy to have around. I'm not sure what I would do without him...Probably end up living in squalor with broken light bulbs, spazzing smoke detectors and chipping paint at every turn. So it goes without saying that when our dryer recently took a crap and died I was sure that my husband would be able to take the machine apart, figure out the problem and have it fixed before dinner. No such luck.
We were right in the middle of cooking a nice Sunday dinner of home made spinach pie with rice pilaf when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Spinach pie is not a highly complicated dish but it is rather time consuming to prepare with several components. It's not a meal we make regularly but its one of my husband's favorites and one of the few meals he likes to make by himself (or at least be a major part of), he had been craving it for a couple weeks so he was really excited to make it on Sunday. While he was chopping and sauteing the onion I was doing some sous chef work for him (prepping the cooking utensils, melting the butter, rinsing the spinach etc.) and at the same time I was getting the laundry started, I was rushing to get the first load from the washer into the dryer and the next load into the washer so I could return to my aforementioned kitchen duties before something tragic could happen. My husband doesn't spend a great deal of time in the kitchen so I like to keep an eye on him if he's cooking dinner...Just in case. He had started laying the filo dough in the pan and spreading the melted butter over top when we both heard a horrible sound coming from the laundry room. It was a low groaning sound that made us both look up from our work in confused horror. Something was clearly not right and since we were both covered in melted butter and feta cheese it was obviously not the sound either of us wanted to hear.
The dryer had stopped on it's own. It sounded like the motor kicked the bucket, I was afraid to try and check the problem out myself for the same reason I am afraid to leave my husband alone in the kitchen; with my luck a fire would have started. So we set dinner aside and went to check out the problem together. He pulled the machine out and tried to take it apart to find the cause of the problem. While he worked on that I returned to the kitchen to finish spreading the filo dough before it dried out. I knew we were in for a long night when I heard the following two phrases coming from the laundry room: "Oh come on!" and then: "Motherfucker!" Whenever those words are uttered while he is trying to fix something I know there is a major problem. He returned to the kitchen looking mildly defeated as it's not often there's a problem he can't fix. And then he said it, the 7 words no one wants to hear: "We have to go to the laundrymat." Ugh. Not at all what I was hoping to hear at that moment. He explained that he didn't have the right tools to open up the machine and he didn't want to break it so he wanted to call in a professional. But who can you get to come fix a dryer on a Sunday night? No one. We even reconciled ourselves to paying an arm and a leg to get someone out there that night but no one was available. Most places weren't even open let alone available and so we had to make peace with the fact that we would be spending our Sunday evening at the damn coin laundry.
Dinner came first however. There was no way that we were going to let all that hard work and delicious food go to waste, so we finished cooking the pie and pilaf and enjoyed a scrumptious dinner. Thankfully I had already put two loads into the wash so we only had one load left to wash while the other two dried so it wasn't like we had to spend several hours at the laundrymat, it was only about an hour and a half or so. I brought my book and my husband was delighted to spend his time getting the high scores on an old Centapede and Ms. Pacman arcade game. There weren't very many people there when we arrived; one woman drying a comforter who claimed she only goes to the laundrymat for this reason as if she had to justify why she was there to the rest of us patrons, and another woman who was doing about 20 loads for what appeard to be an entire litter of children (although she probably only had a couple kids, but we all know how kids clothes tend to pile up like Mt. Rushmore when we aren't looking), she too felt the need to explain why she was there - her dryer was on the fritz as well. I'm not sure why we feel the need to explain ourselves to the other coin laundry goers, it's as if we are embarrssed by being there. Honestly there is no reason to be embarrassed, we're all there doing the same thing so we should be comrads. We should look out for each other and assist each other if needed. When the woman with all the loads was packing up her baskets getting ready to leave I nudged my husband and indicated he should offer to help her out - she had about 5 baskets loaded to the brim and was all by herself. He could have held the door for her if nothing else. He did offer, but she politely refused the gesture. Eventually we were left alone which was a bit of a relief, I'm not very comfortable engaging strangers in random conversation but at the same time I feel rude to ingore them.
The next day we did get a professional out to the house and he found something very interesting that had caused the dryer malfunction. Apparently I was not paying attention when changing the loads out - I had taken the lint trap out to clean it and had set it aside while I loaded the dryer. I do this all the time, it's my routine. I wait until the clothes are all loaded in before returning the lint trap to it's home, I don't know why, it's just what I do. Well....I guess I should have been focusing a little better because the maintenance man found one of my socks had fallen into the trap and I had unwittingly crammed it down into the machine when I put the lint trap back into position. How the hell I managed to do this is beyond me but when he pulled out the culpret it was clear that the dryer had broken down due to user error and not excess use this time.
Thankfully the price to fix the problem was relatively cheap compared to what we had anticipated paying on Sunday night. We also found a great company who came out quickly and fixes all sorts of appliances - just in case my beloved dishwasher decides to bite the dust we know who to call. And lessoned learned - after cleaning the lint trap it must be returned prior to loading the clothes.
When I moved out on my own I had to make regular weekly trips to the coin laundry, because honestly what 20-something can afford to buy their own washing and drying machines? So every week I'd gather my wads of change, geared with at least one magazine but preferably a good book and haul my load up to the laundrymat . There's nothing more boring than sitting at the laundrymat watching clothes spin and dry for hours that never seem to end.
There's a certain etiquette one must follow while withering the time away watching the spin cycle. You must make sure to give your fellow coin droppers a wide berth so as to allow plenty of space to spread out and fold their piles of personals. You'll need to give yourself a good 5 to 10 minutes of adjusting to the atmosphere before enganging your neighbor with polite conversation. You don't want to startle anyone. Everyone is slightly on edge, keeping an eye on their things and vying for positioning, so just give yourself a few moments to spot the Omega before cramming your way in there.
By the time I was married I had officially graduated from the coin laundry to my very own in home washer and dryer. My first house was rather small so we had to use the "apartment" size machines - you know the type? The washer is on the bottom and the dryer is attached to the top so it fits into a small space? It was a good machine and I was very grateful to have it. It's the same thing when you've spent your whole life washing dishes by hand and then finally get a dishwasher. Oh it's fabulous! Have you experienced this little life pleasure? I don't think I can ever go back to washing my dishes by hand, now that I've been spoiled with the dishwasher's ease of use and delightful ability to allow me the time to accomplish other chores while it works it's wonders. Right now for instance - the dishwasher is gently running it's cycle while I write this blog. My hands are not dried out nor slighly burned from the hot water and my nails are not chipping. And I have time to write which is clearly the best part.
Unfortunately machines are just machines and they are subject to breaking down from time to time. Sometimes they break down due to user error (like the time I forgot to empty the lint trap and it got all clogged up), and sometimes they break down due to age and excess use. Machines need regular maintenance and without this they tend to get crabby and break down. Thankfully I have a husband who can fix just about anything that needs fixing around the house. He's quite handy to have around. I'm not sure what I would do without him...Probably end up living in squalor with broken light bulbs, spazzing smoke detectors and chipping paint at every turn. So it goes without saying that when our dryer recently took a crap and died I was sure that my husband would be able to take the machine apart, figure out the problem and have it fixed before dinner. No such luck.
We were right in the middle of cooking a nice Sunday dinner of home made spinach pie with rice pilaf when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Spinach pie is not a highly complicated dish but it is rather time consuming to prepare with several components. It's not a meal we make regularly but its one of my husband's favorites and one of the few meals he likes to make by himself (or at least be a major part of), he had been craving it for a couple weeks so he was really excited to make it on Sunday. While he was chopping and sauteing the onion I was doing some sous chef work for him (prepping the cooking utensils, melting the butter, rinsing the spinach etc.) and at the same time I was getting the laundry started, I was rushing to get the first load from the washer into the dryer and the next load into the washer so I could return to my aforementioned kitchen duties before something tragic could happen. My husband doesn't spend a great deal of time in the kitchen so I like to keep an eye on him if he's cooking dinner...Just in case. He had started laying the filo dough in the pan and spreading the melted butter over top when we both heard a horrible sound coming from the laundry room. It was a low groaning sound that made us both look up from our work in confused horror. Something was clearly not right and since we were both covered in melted butter and feta cheese it was obviously not the sound either of us wanted to hear.
The dryer had stopped on it's own. It sounded like the motor kicked the bucket, I was afraid to try and check the problem out myself for the same reason I am afraid to leave my husband alone in the kitchen; with my luck a fire would have started. So we set dinner aside and went to check out the problem together. He pulled the machine out and tried to take it apart to find the cause of the problem. While he worked on that I returned to the kitchen to finish spreading the filo dough before it dried out. I knew we were in for a long night when I heard the following two phrases coming from the laundry room: "Oh come on!" and then: "Motherfucker!" Whenever those words are uttered while he is trying to fix something I know there is a major problem. He returned to the kitchen looking mildly defeated as it's not often there's a problem he can't fix. And then he said it, the 7 words no one wants to hear: "We have to go to the laundrymat." Ugh. Not at all what I was hoping to hear at that moment. He explained that he didn't have the right tools to open up the machine and he didn't want to break it so he wanted to call in a professional. But who can you get to come fix a dryer on a Sunday night? No one. We even reconciled ourselves to paying an arm and a leg to get someone out there that night but no one was available. Most places weren't even open let alone available and so we had to make peace with the fact that we would be spending our Sunday evening at the damn coin laundry.
Dinner came first however. There was no way that we were going to let all that hard work and delicious food go to waste, so we finished cooking the pie and pilaf and enjoyed a scrumptious dinner. Thankfully I had already put two loads into the wash so we only had one load left to wash while the other two dried so it wasn't like we had to spend several hours at the laundrymat, it was only about an hour and a half or so. I brought my book and my husband was delighted to spend his time getting the high scores on an old Centapede and Ms. Pacman arcade game. There weren't very many people there when we arrived; one woman drying a comforter who claimed she only goes to the laundrymat for this reason as if she had to justify why she was there to the rest of us patrons, and another woman who was doing about 20 loads for what appeard to be an entire litter of children (although she probably only had a couple kids, but we all know how kids clothes tend to pile up like Mt. Rushmore when we aren't looking), she too felt the need to explain why she was there - her dryer was on the fritz as well. I'm not sure why we feel the need to explain ourselves to the other coin laundry goers, it's as if we are embarrssed by being there. Honestly there is no reason to be embarrassed, we're all there doing the same thing so we should be comrads. We should look out for each other and assist each other if needed. When the woman with all the loads was packing up her baskets getting ready to leave I nudged my husband and indicated he should offer to help her out - she had about 5 baskets loaded to the brim and was all by herself. He could have held the door for her if nothing else. He did offer, but she politely refused the gesture. Eventually we were left alone which was a bit of a relief, I'm not very comfortable engaging strangers in random conversation but at the same time I feel rude to ingore them.
The next day we did get a professional out to the house and he found something very interesting that had caused the dryer malfunction. Apparently I was not paying attention when changing the loads out - I had taken the lint trap out to clean it and had set it aside while I loaded the dryer. I do this all the time, it's my routine. I wait until the clothes are all loaded in before returning the lint trap to it's home, I don't know why, it's just what I do. Well....I guess I should have been focusing a little better because the maintenance man found one of my socks had fallen into the trap and I had unwittingly crammed it down into the machine when I put the lint trap back into position. How the hell I managed to do this is beyond me but when he pulled out the culpret it was clear that the dryer had broken down due to user error and not excess use this time.
Thankfully the price to fix the problem was relatively cheap compared to what we had anticipated paying on Sunday night. We also found a great company who came out quickly and fixes all sorts of appliances - just in case my beloved dishwasher decides to bite the dust we know who to call. And lessoned learned - after cleaning the lint trap it must be returned prior to loading the clothes.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Jackie Blue
Something strange happened this week. I suddenly realized that I am a full time employed, tax paying, good credit having contributing member of society. Where did this person come from? And you know what is even stranger? I almost feel guilty about it. Actually I do feel a little guilty about it. We live in such dire times and so many of us have been struggling to get through that I do feel a bit guilty that I'm in a good position right now.
I did not stumble upon this situation easily or quickly. I feel like I've been spending years and years working towards being this person but never really allowing myself to realize that I reached my goal. The only thing I can relate this feeling with is the change between my Sophmore and Junior years of highschool. My Freshman year was a throwaway year - I struggled adjusting to the new surroundings, new faces, new schedules and it took a while to get my footing. My grades reflected as much. This is probably a common theme for many, I certainly hope I'm not alone here.
By Sophmore year I was pretty comfortable but found myself worried about being judged for who I thought I was. My head was too fogged up with what every one else was thinking or doing that I forgot how to have fun. Sometime between the awkward first years of highschool I had an epiphany and by my Junior year I had come full circle back to the girl who didn't give a shit. It was as if I had to lumber through those couple years making mistakes to get my footing right and start marching forward.
Like many of you I spent my twenties having a really fantastic time. I was able to experience a lot of things that helped to shape who I am. But I also had to make plenty of mistakes along the way and I've been paying for them in one way or another for a while now. But I understand what things I did back then and how to turn it around now. My focus falters from time to time so I'm very grateful to have a wonderful husband who very rarely loses his center. We really compliment each other well in that way I think. He is very driven and goal oriented and I am the complete opposite, I'm dreamy and wishy-washy. He helps keep me grounded and I give him wings to be silly.
So we've been working at it. We've been working together focused on our future and what we have to do in order to ensure stability. It's not that fun; there are no vacations or dinner/movie dates, no shopping sprees or large purchases of any sort. We're what you might call frugal. But I suddenly feel like I can see light at the end of the tunnel and it's a good feeling. For the longest time we couldn't finance a gumball, but today we bought a new car. A new car - not a used/pre-owned car. It's not like it was anything very expensive and my husband gets a fantastic company discount so it was even cheaper than we thought. That's not the point though. I am now a "finance-able" person. (Is that a word?) Holy shit, when did that happen?
It happened when I wasn't looking or paying attention. I've been so used to feeling like a loser, actually pretty comfortable being mediocre, that it came as a shock that I've morphed beyond that person. It's pretty sweet. And now that I have tasted some of the results of our hard work I am more invested in keeping our current plan going. There's still work to be done, I'm not quite where I want to be yet but I'm pretty happy thus far.
Those of you who are in the Mortgage business will understand this - my goal is to be A-paper and everything that that implies. I want the credit score, the income, the reserves and the damn equity. I'm so close. It's crazy to think about it. It's crazy to me that I canbe am that person.
Because it's so unfathomable to me, I do have this bizarre sense of guilt. I don't know if it's a feeling of abandoning my fellow American's in strife or a sense that this good fortune would be better bestowed on some other more deserving soul. I don't know. Maybe I just need time to marinate on my new identity and get comfortable with it.
Regardless - I bought a new car today. Her name is Jackie Blue and she is awesome.
I did not stumble upon this situation easily or quickly. I feel like I've been spending years and years working towards being this person but never really allowing myself to realize that I reached my goal. The only thing I can relate this feeling with is the change between my Sophmore and Junior years of highschool. My Freshman year was a throwaway year - I struggled adjusting to the new surroundings, new faces, new schedules and it took a while to get my footing. My grades reflected as much. This is probably a common theme for many, I certainly hope I'm not alone here.
By Sophmore year I was pretty comfortable but found myself worried about being judged for who I thought I was. My head was too fogged up with what every one else was thinking or doing that I forgot how to have fun. Sometime between the awkward first years of highschool I had an epiphany and by my Junior year I had come full circle back to the girl who didn't give a shit. It was as if I had to lumber through those couple years making mistakes to get my footing right and start marching forward.
Like many of you I spent my twenties having a really fantastic time. I was able to experience a lot of things that helped to shape who I am. But I also had to make plenty of mistakes along the way and I've been paying for them in one way or another for a while now. But I understand what things I did back then and how to turn it around now. My focus falters from time to time so I'm very grateful to have a wonderful husband who very rarely loses his center. We really compliment each other well in that way I think. He is very driven and goal oriented and I am the complete opposite, I'm dreamy and wishy-washy. He helps keep me grounded and I give him wings to be silly.
So we've been working at it. We've been working together focused on our future and what we have to do in order to ensure stability. It's not that fun; there are no vacations or dinner/movie dates, no shopping sprees or large purchases of any sort. We're what you might call frugal. But I suddenly feel like I can see light at the end of the tunnel and it's a good feeling. For the longest time we couldn't finance a gumball, but today we bought a new car. A new car - not a used/pre-owned car. It's not like it was anything very expensive and my husband gets a fantastic company discount so it was even cheaper than we thought. That's not the point though. I am now a "finance-able" person. (Is that a word?) Holy shit, when did that happen?
It happened when I wasn't looking or paying attention. I've been so used to feeling like a loser, actually pretty comfortable being mediocre, that it came as a shock that I've morphed beyond that person. It's pretty sweet. And now that I have tasted some of the results of our hard work I am more invested in keeping our current plan going. There's still work to be done, I'm not quite where I want to be yet but I'm pretty happy thus far.
Those of you who are in the Mortgage business will understand this - my goal is to be A-paper and everything that that implies. I want the credit score, the income, the reserves and the damn equity. I'm so close. It's crazy to think about it. It's crazy to me that I can
Because it's so unfathomable to me, I do have this bizarre sense of guilt. I don't know if it's a feeling of abandoning my fellow American's in strife or a sense that this good fortune would be better bestowed on some other more deserving soul. I don't know. Maybe I just need time to marinate on my new identity and get comfortable with it.
Regardless - I bought a new car today. Her name is Jackie Blue and she is awesome.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
A Love Affair
I hate TV.
No. Wait. I take that back. I don't hate TV, I hate commercials. I hate that they make me feel like I can't make a decision on my own. If it weren't for them telling me what products to buy how would I know? Its like they're telling me I have no brain of my own and I must follow what ever direction they tell me to. Shenanigans.
I do dig the magic picture box though. Its mysterious shape and funny knobs and buttons were a fascination from the start. I remember being at a friend's house when I was about 8 or 9 and the TV was on in the sun room. I could hear the laughter from the TV audience in the background of some game show. While my friend tried to pull me towards the game room where we would play dress-up or make up dance routines while listening to her Dad's old LP's of Beatles music (Rocky Raccoon was my favorite), my body was being drawn to the sun room like a gravitational pull. Some kind of cosmic connection unknown to me was urging me to sneak a peak in that room and see what was happening on the TV.
Fortunately I spent more time playing dress up than I ever did staring into the magic picture box (which by the way is a nickname my family came up with eons ago to describe TV, we've used it ever since.). Nope, instead of I Love Lucy or The Facts of Life I got the likes of; C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Burns and Garrison Keillor. Not quite the same experience but looking at it now, I very much appreciate the extra effort from my parent's to educate us like that.
Don't get me wrong when I was a kid I wanted a TV. Bad. I'm sure I drove my parent's nuts wishing and dreaming for a magic picture box of our very own. I couldn't help but feel as though I was missing out on something wonderful. A mystical magical place where the characters came alive and almost jumped out at you. Its a different kind of joy to watch the story happen than to imagine it in your head. There seemed to be nothing more exciting and sintilating than those stolen moments here or there when I was allowed to enjoy a program. Usually things like Reading Rainbow or anything on the Discovery channel were granted permission. But Saturday morning cartoons at my Grandparent's were like a super stickey sweet treat. In a word; awesome.
At some point, and I'm not sure when or who decided to give this a whorl, but at some point my parent's figured out how to hook up a VCR to a Computer Monitor which then gave us the ability to watch movies. Heaven. This opened a whole new world to me and it was everything I could do to contain my desire to pop in yet another video. A few Todd family favorites? Check this out - Space Balls, The Princess Bride, Full Metal Jacket, Apocolypse Now. What? Yes that's right, my uber strict parent's with their crazy TV rules were totally cool with these random movie selections. They are in no particular order here, and not the only movies we had around the house...Just a few that I will always think of as movie's I grew up on.
The other day my brother, sister and I shared a brief moment together in regards to Space Balls and it put such a smile on my face. It was like we three just went there together. Went back to that place where we can share a knowing smile about our unique relationship with the magic picture box.
Nowadays TV has lost some of it's luster. Our lives are so inundated with technology that it can often feel like sensory overload to me. I find myself having to tune out, unplug and disconnect to catch my breath. Come to think of it, there's probably an App for that. For me, the worst part of TV is not the enormity of bad programming clogging the prime time slots, but rather the ridiculous amount of commercials zipping past at a million miles an hour screaming at you what to wear, what to listen to, what ailments you might have and what remedies you cannot live without. If one more money grubbing company tries to get me to buy a Snuggie I'm going to freak out.
Even though I hold a lot of angst towards the marketing companies shoving their agenda's down my throat I still love a good TV show. I caught a show on the Science channel about a month ago that completely blew my mind. It was about how galaxies and stars are formed. For a couple weeks I kept bringing it up with my husband. I haven't really stopped thinking about it, the cool thing is that this show actually had that affect on me. It made me look at the world from a different perspective and made me ponder things I never really had before.
So no. I guess I don't have TV. You could say I've had an on going love affair with TV my whole life. A confounding relationship where one moment I want to throw the damn thing out and moments of mind expanding pleasure. I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that I had very limited access to the magic picture box growing up. Did it make me want it more or less? Some days it's hard to tell but here's hoping it's the latter.
No. Wait. I take that back. I don't hate TV, I hate commercials. I hate that they make me feel like I can't make a decision on my own. If it weren't for them telling me what products to buy how would I know? Its like they're telling me I have no brain of my own and I must follow what ever direction they tell me to. Shenanigans.
I do dig the magic picture box though. Its mysterious shape and funny knobs and buttons were a fascination from the start. I remember being at a friend's house when I was about 8 or 9 and the TV was on in the sun room. I could hear the laughter from the TV audience in the background of some game show. While my friend tried to pull me towards the game room where we would play dress-up or make up dance routines while listening to her Dad's old LP's of Beatles music (Rocky Raccoon was my favorite), my body was being drawn to the sun room like a gravitational pull. Some kind of cosmic connection unknown to me was urging me to sneak a peak in that room and see what was happening on the TV.
Fortunately I spent more time playing dress up than I ever did staring into the magic picture box (which by the way is a nickname my family came up with eons ago to describe TV, we've used it ever since.). Nope, instead of I Love Lucy or The Facts of Life I got the likes of; C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Burns and Garrison Keillor. Not quite the same experience but looking at it now, I very much appreciate the extra effort from my parent's to educate us like that.
Don't get me wrong when I was a kid I wanted a TV. Bad. I'm sure I drove my parent's nuts wishing and dreaming for a magic picture box of our very own. I couldn't help but feel as though I was missing out on something wonderful. A mystical magical place where the characters came alive and almost jumped out at you. Its a different kind of joy to watch the story happen than to imagine it in your head. There seemed to be nothing more exciting and sintilating than those stolen moments here or there when I was allowed to enjoy a program. Usually things like Reading Rainbow or anything on the Discovery channel were granted permission. But Saturday morning cartoons at my Grandparent's were like a super stickey sweet treat. In a word; awesome.
At some point, and I'm not sure when or who decided to give this a whorl, but at some point my parent's figured out how to hook up a VCR to a Computer Monitor which then gave us the ability to watch movies. Heaven. This opened a whole new world to me and it was everything I could do to contain my desire to pop in yet another video. A few Todd family favorites? Check this out - Space Balls, The Princess Bride, Full Metal Jacket, Apocolypse Now. What? Yes that's right, my uber strict parent's with their crazy TV rules were totally cool with these random movie selections. They are in no particular order here, and not the only movies we had around the house...Just a few that I will always think of as movie's I grew up on.
The other day my brother, sister and I shared a brief moment together in regards to Space Balls and it put such a smile on my face. It was like we three just went there together. Went back to that place where we can share a knowing smile about our unique relationship with the magic picture box.
Nowadays TV has lost some of it's luster. Our lives are so inundated with technology that it can often feel like sensory overload to me. I find myself having to tune out, unplug and disconnect to catch my breath. Come to think of it, there's probably an App for that. For me, the worst part of TV is not the enormity of bad programming clogging the prime time slots, but rather the ridiculous amount of commercials zipping past at a million miles an hour screaming at you what to wear, what to listen to, what ailments you might have and what remedies you cannot live without. If one more money grubbing company tries to get me to buy a Snuggie I'm going to freak out.
Even though I hold a lot of angst towards the marketing companies shoving their agenda's down my throat I still love a good TV show. I caught a show on the Science channel about a month ago that completely blew my mind. It was about how galaxies and stars are formed. For a couple weeks I kept bringing it up with my husband. I haven't really stopped thinking about it, the cool thing is that this show actually had that affect on me. It made me look at the world from a different perspective and made me ponder things I never really had before.
So no. I guess I don't have TV. You could say I've had an on going love affair with TV my whole life. A confounding relationship where one moment I want to throw the damn thing out and moments of mind expanding pleasure. I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that I had very limited access to the magic picture box growing up. Did it make me want it more or less? Some days it's hard to tell but here's hoping it's the latter.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
She Doesn't Live Here Anymore
The loop. Who's in this thing anymore? When I made the decision to move out of my home state I quickly realized that the Loop is a tempremental mistress who will leave you as quickly as she came. When you've been a part of the Loop for such a long time it can be hard to be forced to break away from it's comfort. Even with such social networking sites like Facebook where everyone you've ever known comes to chat together - the Loop is just out of your grasp.
I've lived away from Detroit a few times in my life but nothing as permanent as my current situation. And yet I'm having a hard time making this new state feel like a home. Even though that's exactly what it is; my new home. Assimilating into a new community can be tricky business. If you haven't done very much home work on your new town (like me; who has time to research their new city? Just go with it.), how do you know the best neighborhood to move to? How do you know what restaurants are the best? What politicians to vote for? What area's of town to steer clear of? What companies are reputable to work for? My brain hurts just from thinking about all the things I never had time to do before moving here, all the things I'm slowly learning as the time away from my old Loop gets more expansive.
I know many of you moved away for college and never looked back. Some of you had to make hard choices to uproot your life for something better further away from your beginnings. A lot of you moved away when you were too young to have formulated a real strong bond with your home town and you probably found that it was relatively easy to acclimate yourself to a new life. I, on the other hand, moved away after already settling down surrounded by a wonderful core group of friends and family. My said Loop. But an opportunity arose that was too good to pass up. A chance to get out of a rut that had taken hold of my comfy life. A rut that I needed to bust out of as quickly as humanly possible; which turned out to be approximately 4 months. That's how long it took us to accept the offer to move, get our house sold and buy something new in a new town with new neighbors and new lives.
A new life. A fantasy of the statement is that you can reinvent yourself to be what ever you always pictured yourself to be. Maybe you were weighed down by the chains of home, too many people to call you out and say "Hey, that's not the you I know and love". Shenanigans. But really, you've taken up residence in an area where no one knows who you are so truly you could do what ever you wanted. Be whomever you wanted. Perhaps some of you have taken this route? Perhaps not.
I often felt like an imposter while looking out my new kitchen window over the first year or so after we moved here. When I would look out the window I could see all the freshly cut grass and nicely gardened yards. The kids would play on the many backyard jungle gyms scattered from house to house, laughing and carrying on. All the neighborhood Men would grill in the summer and the Women would gather to chat about this or that. But I always felt as if the neighborhood police would come banging on my door and call Shenangian's on me. They'd see through my two story, four bedroom home and find out that I'm really just a home girl at heart who stepped out of Detroit for a chance at something better. They'd see right through this persona of small town conventional girl to the heart of me; big city sass with delusions of grandeur. They'd ask me to leave my quiet subdivision, but please make sure the yard has been freshly mowed before packing up. I was sure at any moment they would all see that this new life was something very fake and foreign to me. But they haven't. That's one thing you can count on from your friendly Indiana neighbors - Trust. A completely bizarre concept to me. I lived in Oak Park for 5 years and didn't even know my neighbor's name's to say goodbye to them when we moved. Seriously.
I've been struggling with this issue in various forms since the move almost 5 years ago. I can't really believe how long we've lived here, it's hard to fathom how the time flies. But I find that I measure time by the years that pass since our move. I know something has been at least 5 years ago if it occured while I was living in the Detroit area. Which ages me every time something comes to mind. It also reminds me how much life goes by without me being a part of it. Oh I've kept in touch with a few of you better than others and I think we're all to blame for that a little bit. Those of you who I speak to regularly can still bring out that spark of Detroit that resides deep within my personality. You can take the girl out of Detroit but you can never take Detroit out of the girl. And I appreciate those special moments we share where all inhibiton is thrown like caution to the wind and I get to remember what it was I loved about being from Detroit. But so many of you have become like mere acquaintances anymore and the bonds we once shared have become weaker over time, frayed and strained.
At first I tried very hard to cling to my roots, I got a Red Wings sticker and a Made In Detroit sticker for my car - an attempt to represent. I talk about my life in Detroit a great deal with my new friends and coworkers, I have nothing else to talk about. They all know how I feel about the traffic, the politics, the sports and the current state of the economy. I read the e-mags (Metro Times, the Idler) the e-newspapers (Free Press) the local e-TV news stations (Fox 2), I even streamed music sations live (WCSX, WRIF) for a while (I didn't know the local stations well enough) regularly just to stay apprised of the happenings. I read more about local Detroit topics than of my own community. I couldn't identify with anything happening here, it's all a blur of names I don't recognize and situations that mean nothing to me. I also made many trips back to Detroit to visit friends, family. I came for as many birthday parties, weddings, funerals, graduations, holiday's and just because's that I could afford. I began to feel obligated to show up for every event in an effort to remain present in your lives. Not forgotten. And also to remind myself of myself. I may have previously stated that when you move away you can put on any life you want. It was important to me not to let my core become lost in the melee of finding myself in this new place. Trying to figure out how I fit here. Where I fit in here.
I think I had an interesting, different and fun up bringing. My life was filled with a lot of travel, culture and fun. We didn't have TV to muddy the waters in our relationships, we were forced to talk to each other, interact with each other. Something I fear today's youth will know nothing about. Actual human contact. I was taught that marching to the beat of my own drum was my right and it was thoroughly encouraged by both parent's. By the time I was old enough to make a decision to join the ranks of the public school kids (previously being Home Schooled) blending in was beyond my comprehension. I thought everyone was out there being themselves and not concerned what other people thought of them. I thought people were open minded about who they associated with. Boy was I wrong. Public school turned out to be a mild nightmare at first, it took a couple years to get my bearings and feel comfortable with the friends I was making. I tried very hard to hold onto my quirks, the little things I did differently that set me apart from the rest of the kids. Most of you can attest that I was an interesting sort while in school. Subject to much ridicule and admiration (although the latter seems very far fetched) and somehow I managed to graduate with my head held high knowing more or less who I was. And having been accepted by my peers for being this person.
You may all be used to my odities but it's been tricky to find a way to make them fit here. Especially because I'm not a young carefree kid who doesn't give a shit what anyone else thinks anymore. Of course I have a better understanding of how the world works now. How adults interact with each other - what is appropriate, what is taboo. And while I am very proud of who I am, I found it increasingly more difficult to be that person anymore. I've found little ways to integrate my idiosyncrasies into my daily life but it's still a breath of fresh air to have a conversation with a friend from before. Someone who remembers me from before there was now. Those of you who have shared such intimate moments of true unadulterated honesty with me. You are so dear to me. Those memories so dear.
I think I felt that if I spent as much time back in Detroit as possible I could keep those memories fresh and they helped me feel safe. But I've come to realize that while I may live far way those moments are not lost and I am no less myself here than there. I still feel a horrible sense of guilt when I have to turn an invitation down but it's truly very unrealistic for me to continue on in this manner. At some point I have to let go and just free fall into this new life. Make it what I want and enjoy the new moments. While I slip further and further away from the Loop my hope is that I've left an indelible mark on your lives and that our paths will cross from time to time and we will share a private smile for what was and what shall never be.
I've lived away from Detroit a few times in my life but nothing as permanent as my current situation. And yet I'm having a hard time making this new state feel like a home. Even though that's exactly what it is; my new home. Assimilating into a new community can be tricky business. If you haven't done very much home work on your new town (like me; who has time to research their new city? Just go with it.), how do you know the best neighborhood to move to? How do you know what restaurants are the best? What politicians to vote for? What area's of town to steer clear of? What companies are reputable to work for? My brain hurts just from thinking about all the things I never had time to do before moving here, all the things I'm slowly learning as the time away from my old Loop gets more expansive.
I know many of you moved away for college and never looked back. Some of you had to make hard choices to uproot your life for something better further away from your beginnings. A lot of you moved away when you were too young to have formulated a real strong bond with your home town and you probably found that it was relatively easy to acclimate yourself to a new life. I, on the other hand, moved away after already settling down surrounded by a wonderful core group of friends and family. My said Loop. But an opportunity arose that was too good to pass up. A chance to get out of a rut that had taken hold of my comfy life. A rut that I needed to bust out of as quickly as humanly possible; which turned out to be approximately 4 months. That's how long it took us to accept the offer to move, get our house sold and buy something new in a new town with new neighbors and new lives.
A new life. A fantasy of the statement is that you can reinvent yourself to be what ever you always pictured yourself to be. Maybe you were weighed down by the chains of home, too many people to call you out and say "Hey, that's not the you I know and love". Shenanigans. But really, you've taken up residence in an area where no one knows who you are so truly you could do what ever you wanted. Be whomever you wanted. Perhaps some of you have taken this route? Perhaps not.
I often felt like an imposter while looking out my new kitchen window over the first year or so after we moved here. When I would look out the window I could see all the freshly cut grass and nicely gardened yards. The kids would play on the many backyard jungle gyms scattered from house to house, laughing and carrying on. All the neighborhood Men would grill in the summer and the Women would gather to chat about this or that. But I always felt as if the neighborhood police would come banging on my door and call Shenangian's on me. They'd see through my two story, four bedroom home and find out that I'm really just a home girl at heart who stepped out of Detroit for a chance at something better. They'd see right through this persona of small town conventional girl to the heart of me; big city sass with delusions of grandeur. They'd ask me to leave my quiet subdivision, but please make sure the yard has been freshly mowed before packing up. I was sure at any moment they would all see that this new life was something very fake and foreign to me. But they haven't. That's one thing you can count on from your friendly Indiana neighbors - Trust. A completely bizarre concept to me. I lived in Oak Park for 5 years and didn't even know my neighbor's name's to say goodbye to them when we moved. Seriously.
I've been struggling with this issue in various forms since the move almost 5 years ago. I can't really believe how long we've lived here, it's hard to fathom how the time flies. But I find that I measure time by the years that pass since our move. I know something has been at least 5 years ago if it occured while I was living in the Detroit area. Which ages me every time something comes to mind. It also reminds me how much life goes by without me being a part of it. Oh I've kept in touch with a few of you better than others and I think we're all to blame for that a little bit. Those of you who I speak to regularly can still bring out that spark of Detroit that resides deep within my personality. You can take the girl out of Detroit but you can never take Detroit out of the girl. And I appreciate those special moments we share where all inhibiton is thrown like caution to the wind and I get to remember what it was I loved about being from Detroit. But so many of you have become like mere acquaintances anymore and the bonds we once shared have become weaker over time, frayed and strained.
At first I tried very hard to cling to my roots, I got a Red Wings sticker and a Made In Detroit sticker for my car - an attempt to represent. I talk about my life in Detroit a great deal with my new friends and coworkers, I have nothing else to talk about. They all know how I feel about the traffic, the politics, the sports and the current state of the economy. I read the e-mags (Metro Times, the Idler) the e-newspapers (Free Press) the local e-TV news stations (Fox 2), I even streamed music sations live (WCSX, WRIF) for a while (I didn't know the local stations well enough) regularly just to stay apprised of the happenings. I read more about local Detroit topics than of my own community. I couldn't identify with anything happening here, it's all a blur of names I don't recognize and situations that mean nothing to me. I also made many trips back to Detroit to visit friends, family. I came for as many birthday parties, weddings, funerals, graduations, holiday's and just because's that I could afford. I began to feel obligated to show up for every event in an effort to remain present in your lives. Not forgotten. And also to remind myself of myself. I may have previously stated that when you move away you can put on any life you want. It was important to me not to let my core become lost in the melee of finding myself in this new place. Trying to figure out how I fit here. Where I fit in here.
I think I had an interesting, different and fun up bringing. My life was filled with a lot of travel, culture and fun. We didn't have TV to muddy the waters in our relationships, we were forced to talk to each other, interact with each other. Something I fear today's youth will know nothing about. Actual human contact. I was taught that marching to the beat of my own drum was my right and it was thoroughly encouraged by both parent's. By the time I was old enough to make a decision to join the ranks of the public school kids (previously being Home Schooled) blending in was beyond my comprehension. I thought everyone was out there being themselves and not concerned what other people thought of them. I thought people were open minded about who they associated with. Boy was I wrong. Public school turned out to be a mild nightmare at first, it took a couple years to get my bearings and feel comfortable with the friends I was making. I tried very hard to hold onto my quirks, the little things I did differently that set me apart from the rest of the kids. Most of you can attest that I was an interesting sort while in school. Subject to much ridicule and admiration (although the latter seems very far fetched) and somehow I managed to graduate with my head held high knowing more or less who I was. And having been accepted by my peers for being this person.
You may all be used to my odities but it's been tricky to find a way to make them fit here. Especially because I'm not a young carefree kid who doesn't give a shit what anyone else thinks anymore. Of course I have a better understanding of how the world works now. How adults interact with each other - what is appropriate, what is taboo. And while I am very proud of who I am, I found it increasingly more difficult to be that person anymore. I've found little ways to integrate my idiosyncrasies into my daily life but it's still a breath of fresh air to have a conversation with a friend from before. Someone who remembers me from before there was now. Those of you who have shared such intimate moments of true unadulterated honesty with me. You are so dear to me. Those memories so dear.
I think I felt that if I spent as much time back in Detroit as possible I could keep those memories fresh and they helped me feel safe. But I've come to realize that while I may live far way those moments are not lost and I am no less myself here than there. I still feel a horrible sense of guilt when I have to turn an invitation down but it's truly very unrealistic for me to continue on in this manner. At some point I have to let go and just free fall into this new life. Make it what I want and enjoy the new moments. While I slip further and further away from the Loop my hope is that I've left an indelible mark on your lives and that our paths will cross from time to time and we will share a private smile for what was and what shall never be.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Ok...But why are my arms numb?
As some of you may or may not know, I've had issues with lower back pain for years. It's chronic and thoroughly annoying. There has been no great injury or tramatic event that I can recall that would cause such a thing. I was pretty fairly active as a young kid and young adult so perhaps it's some type of sports injury come back to rear it's ugly head? Perhaps it's due to the many many nights I helped Rick "roadie" his heavy music gear around from place to place. Perhaps it's bad genetics? The Doctors can't tell me the reason and since I have no real idea why either I can't seem to point them in the right direction. Le sigh.
Also some of you may or may not know that I have a rather irrational fear of Doctor's, Hospitals, Clinics what have you. I become very anxious whenever I have an appointment for anthing and I very rarely have reason to actually go to the E.R. As they used to say in my family "if you aren't bleeding you're fine". My blood preasure tends to rise when I get closer and closer to an appointment and it truly makes no difference what I am there for. A head cold/strep throat? Sweaty palms. A blood test for health insurance? Racing heart. Gynocologist exam? Are you kidding me? Racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach etc. So it goes without saying that I am always anxious when I have an appointment with my Orthopedic Doctor, he's a very nice gentleman with kind eyes and a genuenly simpathetic outlook. The only thing I don't like about him is his handshake. My Dad tought me that you can learn a lot about the person by the grip of their hand when it shakes yours. My Doctor is rather wimpy. This is what I gather from his hand shake. He's a very tall gumpy sort of man, light brown/blond hair, big square glasses and this very unfortunate hand shake. Regardless I felt comfortable with him in every other aspect, and due to his very unthreatening persona I felt he was a good choice due to my irrational fear.
It was my husband who finally convinced me to have my back checked out. Either he was truly concerned for me, or else he was just sick of hearing me complain about it. So I finally got up the courage to schedule an appointment with my regular family practice doctor - a very different sort of man. My family practice doctor reminds me of Santa Clause; full head of white hair, a gray/white beard and a jolly figure. He's kind of short and I think he lost most of his bedside manner 40+ years ago after he started this profession. I'm not saying he's mean or anything, just very straight, no nonsense to the point, you're in and out of there in 15 minutes tops. His office is also very busy all the time, so perhaps he just doesn't have the time for niceties. Anyway, he did some X-rays and after seeing those suggested I go and see an Orthopedic Doctor with more experience in my particular area of need.
I've been seeing my Ortho doctor for about a year now and I've done every thing he's asked me to do. Physical Therapy for a while, medications, various home systems that come from physical therapy (EMPI), home calestetics, more medication, MRI (nerve racking but painless), EMG (nerve racking, literally, mildly painful, not as bad as I feard) and finally what we are trying now - Epidural injections of steroid. A quote from the Lumbar Epidural Injections hand book they gave me: "There may be even more pain at first" and "When to call the office; increased numbness in arms or legs". Well crap. I have been avoiding getting this proceedure done for a few months because I am a chicken shit. I was very afraid of what the shot would feel like and how my body would react to the injection. I am scared to death of pain, like a little girl is scared of the Boogie Man. But I had an epiphany and this is what made me decide to get it done; I've started really working out. Actually taking heathy living seriously and putting it into action to help change my life. A sort of New Year Resolution if you will. I decided my current choice of lifestyle wasn't working for me any more and I am now in a good head space to make a significant change.
Due to my new outlook on life I had started by working out approximately 30-45 minutes every other day, doing a combination of cardio and calestetics at my home. But I had a problem; both my Eliptical machine (which jars your hips back and forth) and doing standard sit-ups and crunches were creating a huge pain issue for me. It wasn't "oh I worked out and I'm sore" I know what that feels like. It was more "holy shit get that knife out of my hip!". Very accute to one side and as I built up my work out routine and it's frequency it got worse and worse to the point I was limping. Unable to lift my right leg the way I wanted to when I walked. It was pretty horrible. Pain scale was about a 7 on a scale of 1-10. 10 being the absolute worst pain you've ever experience and 1 being a fall on a fluffy pillow. I've had a 10 before. Actually it was more like a 15. I had an explosive head ache one day while at work. It came like a freight train out of no where, my head thumped so badly my vision was blurred. I was on the phone with my husband at the time and all he remembers me saying is 'oh my God my head, my head, my head". When it finally lost some of it's grip I drove myself home and headed to the E.R. fearful of what was causing this incredible pain (pain scale was approximately an 8). I get mild head aches from time to time - it comes with my job. But nothing like this. This was violent. It scared me.
The E.R. is no better for me than any other Heath Care location - racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully my husband was with me and held my hand the whole time. When they rolled me into the C.T. room all of the nurses were very nice to me - probably because my husband fixes said C.T. when it goes down so he knew them all. They kept the lights on low and gave me a wash cloth size towel to put over my eyes. It was sweet and I appreciated it. Later in my room the nurse was attempting to insert an I.V. of their special Migrane Cocktail, however she was having difficulty finding a vein that would cooperate. 4 pokes later she called in the "expert poker" nurse who got it in one try right on top of my right hand. They started to pump the medicine but something felt instantly wrong. My forearm became extremely cold, like numbingly cold, painful cold. I said "Oh my arm, my arm, what tha?" And the nurse said "that's just the medicine traveling up your vein". But I knew something wasn't right, what could I say though? She didn't understand what I was feeling and my head hurt so bad I couldn't articulate what was wrong. Slowly it started to fade and the actual migrane cocktail began to take it's sweet affect. I'm fairly certain it was a combinaton of Benedryl and Toradol and maybe something else? (You medical folks can fill in the blank). Well before long I was passed out sleeping off my discomforts.
When I woke, they unhooked me and gave me very specific instructions on what sysmptoms to watch for, they were afraid I had menengitis (sp?) due to it's sudden onset and lack of anything serious on the C.T. I refused the menengitis test (have you heard what's involved there??) and opted to head home feeling much better, albeit quite sore in my right arm. I remember that was Fourth of July weekend, the Friday before the holiday. That weekend we planned to have some friends over on the Sunday before the Holiday and bar-b-que some of my husband's famous ribs. It was also at the very end of some home projects we were working on, all we had left to do was finish cleaning the house from all the construction. I remember I soaked all the blinds in bleach that weekend and spent most of my time hunched over the bathroom sink scrubbing the dust off of them. Probably not a good idea since my arm felt like it was broken. BROKEN! Pain scale sailing far beyond anthing I had ever felt before. A possible 15 on the pain scale. My arm was red and very swollen and it was all I could do to manage and get through the weekend. After our friends had left (and after a mild kitchen mishap where I sliced a piece of flesh off my knuckle while shredding carrots for the salad.) I looked at my husband and said with a heavy sigh "I think we have to go back to the E.R. something is not right with my arm." And so we went. The P.A. who had attended to me two days earlier was working again and she said when she saw my name on the chart her heart sank because she thought I was back with more headache issues. To her surprise I held up my arm and asked her what the hell was wrong with me. She explained that what had happened was the Saline they used accidentally got pumped straight into my arm as opposed to the vein. Therefore my arm was swollen with Saline and it needed time to work it's way through my system. She gave me a script for anti-inflamatory and anti-biotics and sent me on my way. We spent the evening in the parking lot at the Walgreen's watching the fire works while waiting for the Pharmacy to finish up. I was advised to follow up with my Family Practice on the next business day, which unfortunately was on the following Tuesday due to the holiday break.
When I saw my Family Practice he advised me to get a brace for my wrist, gave me pain killers and a note to stay off work for a full week. He explained that if I used my hand too much I risked the saline causing a blood clot that could travel up my arm to my heart and causing severe damage. Thanks for freaking me out even more Doc. Anyway the point of the story is that this was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Somewhat similar to a major tooth ache (of which I've had a few, and something I do not wish on my worst enemy). So by comparison the pain I felt after working out quite a bit was not as bad as this, but still enough to make me stay off the Eliptical until I could see my doctor again and discuss my issues.
Very typical of any Doctor, when I explained my problem he said "Well if it hurts, don't do that." Something I grew up hearing my Dad say who is a P.A., however, unfortunately not very helpful. He then suggested getting traction done at Physical Therapy. But again, being the chicken shit that I am and hurting as bad as I was I was afraid to go. I was afraid it would make it worse and I was already limping and really couldn't handle anything like traction at the time. Now that I'm feeling more healed from that I may give it a try but it will depend on how this Epidural works out. My thoughts for finally going through with the shot was that maybe it would mask any hurt I feel while working out. I won't go all G.I. Jane on it, but hopefully it will allow me to continue this healthy change and eventually maybe I will have done enough that I won't need the shot. It's my hope anyway, it may be total flubber but it's helping me make it through.
So I scheduled an A.M. appointment for today, my arrival time? 7:45am. If you've read my previous blog you know I am not now nor will I ever be a morning person. Second downer? No eating or drinking for 6 hours before the appointment. I was so partched by the time the proceedure took place I was caughing a lot. I had a damn tickle in the back of my throat. Nothing to do but try and tough it out. So I've barely slept, and I'm dying of thirst and I'm about to go through with something that has scared the crap out of me for months. They took my blood pressure when I got there it was 115/75 which is a bit high for me. I've been trying to pay attention to these things as of late. I was clearly anxious. Thankfully my husband was with me yet again, he not only held my hand as we walked in, but gently kept his hand on my leg while I waited. He knew I was very nervous and was very sweet about it. He's a good guy.
When they took me back to the X-ray room where the proceedure was to take place I was trying to calm myself by taking deep breaths and staring at the ground. I could hear the nurses talking to me, telling me what they wanted me to do and what they were doing (lay on your stomach, scootch down, I'm going to lift your shirt up a bit and pull your pants down, I'm going to clean off your back, this will be cold...etc.) The Doctor talked me to briefly, he explained the proceedure to me and talked to me about my pain and where it was localized so he could pin point the best place for the injection. Due to the fact that my pain starts on the right side but gravitates to my left he thought two injections were in order. Yes. Two. One on each side. Did I mention they pulled my pants down to the bottom of my bottom? So my cheeks are just out there, getting cold and feeling insecure while two female nurses moved around me quickly and the Doctor began the proceedure.
Doctor: "One prick and it will sting and burn for a few seconds"
Me: "Ok" and then "Ouchhhhhhshhhit." Followed by me squeezing my eyes shut.
Doctor "And scan that" a pinch to my skin "And scan that" another pinch "And scan that" and then "Ok this is going to feel like pressure on your back and it will go down your leg"
Me: "Great." Eyes still pinched shut.
This repeated on the other side and then thankfully it was all over. The Doctor said it went nicely and they rolled me onto yet another gourney and offered me a soda. They knew I was thirsty as hell and I eagerly accepted the cold Pepsi. They had to take my blood pressure two more times before they would let me leave, I asked my husband to read it off to me the first time it went off 109/70, already more normalized. I was feeling better albiet quite numb. The nurse to checked me out asked me to rate my pain again but I couldn't on account of the fact that I couldn't really feel anything in my back at all. Just discomfort but nothing serious.
The drive home was a bit worse, I guess sitting like that didn't help anything but I started to feel more and more uncomfortable and every time I moved I felt a pinch of some sort near the injection site. Probably the band aid pulling my skin. I was told that I would need to take the day off of work to heal. But no one could tell me what it would be like, this recovery. No one from my Ortho Doctor to the Nurse specialist who scheduled the appointment to the nurses doing the actual proceedure could explain it in any way that made sense. When I told them I just felt weird they resonded by saying "until you've been through it, it's hard to explain what it feels like" Yea, no shit. Its like the worst kind of aching. My whole lower back just aches and aches. No position is comfortable; sitting, laying down, standing it all sucks and I find myself adjusting every few minutes. And yet, I'm still hopeful that this will help. Apparently it can take as long as 2 full weeks for the steroid to take full affect and for me to feel better (so much for instant gratification), and still, I'm hopeful. Maybe I'll be one of those people that gets results after only a few days. Here's hoping. So I've spent the day in varying degrees of pain and discomfort hopful that I will feel better tomorrow after I've had a chance to sleep it off.
After a flustered post on Facebook I received a call from my Dad (the aforementioned P.A. or Physicians Assistant) to discuss my proceedure and give me some advise on moving forward. I have always counted on my Dad for sound medical advice and I view his opinion in much higher esteem than any of the other doctors I have seen recently. He was not too keen on my having had the shot citing that it's only ever a temporary fix and can make the situation worse. He gave me some ideas for different types of physcial thereapy to try; Alexandria Technique, something that has been very affective for professional athletes and dancers. I am a former Highland Dancer and it's very possible I have a long standing injury as the style of dance is extremely aggressive and hard on your body. I will check it out, at this point I just want to do what ever I can to make my situation better. I need to get through my every day life without pain or at least reduced amounts of pain. I will give anything a shot at this point, hense the shot.
And so there it is. Some of my current medical conditions coming from the mind of someone uneducated in these things and hopful for things to get better.
Ok...But why are my arms numb? My arms feel like they fell asleep hours ago into some kind of coma that they refuse to get up from. Highly annoying. If it gets any worse I'll head back to the E.R. as suggested by my P.A. Father, otherwise I'll call the Doctor's office tomorrow and let them know the situation.
C'est la vie.
Also some of you may or may not know that I have a rather irrational fear of Doctor's, Hospitals, Clinics what have you. I become very anxious whenever I have an appointment for anthing and I very rarely have reason to actually go to the E.R. As they used to say in my family "if you aren't bleeding you're fine". My blood preasure tends to rise when I get closer and closer to an appointment and it truly makes no difference what I am there for. A head cold/strep throat? Sweaty palms. A blood test for health insurance? Racing heart. Gynocologist exam? Are you kidding me? Racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach etc. So it goes without saying that I am always anxious when I have an appointment with my Orthopedic Doctor, he's a very nice gentleman with kind eyes and a genuenly simpathetic outlook. The only thing I don't like about him is his handshake. My Dad tought me that you can learn a lot about the person by the grip of their hand when it shakes yours. My Doctor is rather wimpy. This is what I gather from his hand shake. He's a very tall gumpy sort of man, light brown/blond hair, big square glasses and this very unfortunate hand shake. Regardless I felt comfortable with him in every other aspect, and due to his very unthreatening persona I felt he was a good choice due to my irrational fear.
It was my husband who finally convinced me to have my back checked out. Either he was truly concerned for me, or else he was just sick of hearing me complain about it. So I finally got up the courage to schedule an appointment with my regular family practice doctor - a very different sort of man. My family practice doctor reminds me of Santa Clause; full head of white hair, a gray/white beard and a jolly figure. He's kind of short and I think he lost most of his bedside manner 40+ years ago after he started this profession. I'm not saying he's mean or anything, just very straight, no nonsense to the point, you're in and out of there in 15 minutes tops. His office is also very busy all the time, so perhaps he just doesn't have the time for niceties. Anyway, he did some X-rays and after seeing those suggested I go and see an Orthopedic Doctor with more experience in my particular area of need.
I've been seeing my Ortho doctor for about a year now and I've done every thing he's asked me to do. Physical Therapy for a while, medications, various home systems that come from physical therapy (EMPI), home calestetics, more medication, MRI (nerve racking but painless), EMG (nerve racking, literally, mildly painful, not as bad as I feard) and finally what we are trying now - Epidural injections of steroid. A quote from the Lumbar Epidural Injections hand book they gave me: "There may be even more pain at first" and "When to call the office; increased numbness in arms or legs". Well crap. I have been avoiding getting this proceedure done for a few months because I am a chicken shit. I was very afraid of what the shot would feel like and how my body would react to the injection. I am scared to death of pain, like a little girl is scared of the Boogie Man. But I had an epiphany and this is what made me decide to get it done; I've started really working out. Actually taking heathy living seriously and putting it into action to help change my life. A sort of New Year Resolution if you will. I decided my current choice of lifestyle wasn't working for me any more and I am now in a good head space to make a significant change.
Due to my new outlook on life I had started by working out approximately 30-45 minutes every other day, doing a combination of cardio and calestetics at my home. But I had a problem; both my Eliptical machine (which jars your hips back and forth) and doing standard sit-ups and crunches were creating a huge pain issue for me. It wasn't "oh I worked out and I'm sore" I know what that feels like. It was more "holy shit get that knife out of my hip!". Very accute to one side and as I built up my work out routine and it's frequency it got worse and worse to the point I was limping. Unable to lift my right leg the way I wanted to when I walked. It was pretty horrible. Pain scale was about a 7 on a scale of 1-10. 10 being the absolute worst pain you've ever experience and 1 being a fall on a fluffy pillow. I've had a 10 before. Actually it was more like a 15. I had an explosive head ache one day while at work. It came like a freight train out of no where, my head thumped so badly my vision was blurred. I was on the phone with my husband at the time and all he remembers me saying is 'oh my God my head, my head, my head". When it finally lost some of it's grip I drove myself home and headed to the E.R. fearful of what was causing this incredible pain (pain scale was approximately an 8). I get mild head aches from time to time - it comes with my job. But nothing like this. This was violent. It scared me.
The E.R. is no better for me than any other Heath Care location - racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully my husband was with me and held my hand the whole time. When they rolled me into the C.T. room all of the nurses were very nice to me - probably because my husband fixes said C.T. when it goes down so he knew them all. They kept the lights on low and gave me a wash cloth size towel to put over my eyes. It was sweet and I appreciated it. Later in my room the nurse was attempting to insert an I.V. of their special Migrane Cocktail, however she was having difficulty finding a vein that would cooperate. 4 pokes later she called in the "expert poker" nurse who got it in one try right on top of my right hand. They started to pump the medicine but something felt instantly wrong. My forearm became extremely cold, like numbingly cold, painful cold. I said "Oh my arm, my arm, what tha?" And the nurse said "that's just the medicine traveling up your vein". But I knew something wasn't right, what could I say though? She didn't understand what I was feeling and my head hurt so bad I couldn't articulate what was wrong. Slowly it started to fade and the actual migrane cocktail began to take it's sweet affect. I'm fairly certain it was a combinaton of Benedryl and Toradol and maybe something else? (You medical folks can fill in the blank). Well before long I was passed out sleeping off my discomforts.
When I woke, they unhooked me and gave me very specific instructions on what sysmptoms to watch for, they were afraid I had menengitis (sp?) due to it's sudden onset and lack of anything serious on the C.T. I refused the menengitis test (have you heard what's involved there??) and opted to head home feeling much better, albeit quite sore in my right arm. I remember that was Fourth of July weekend, the Friday before the holiday. That weekend we planned to have some friends over on the Sunday before the Holiday and bar-b-que some of my husband's famous ribs. It was also at the very end of some home projects we were working on, all we had left to do was finish cleaning the house from all the construction. I remember I soaked all the blinds in bleach that weekend and spent most of my time hunched over the bathroom sink scrubbing the dust off of them. Probably not a good idea since my arm felt like it was broken. BROKEN! Pain scale sailing far beyond anthing I had ever felt before. A possible 15 on the pain scale. My arm was red and very swollen and it was all I could do to manage and get through the weekend. After our friends had left (and after a mild kitchen mishap where I sliced a piece of flesh off my knuckle while shredding carrots for the salad.) I looked at my husband and said with a heavy sigh "I think we have to go back to the E.R. something is not right with my arm." And so we went. The P.A. who had attended to me two days earlier was working again and she said when she saw my name on the chart her heart sank because she thought I was back with more headache issues. To her surprise I held up my arm and asked her what the hell was wrong with me. She explained that what had happened was the Saline they used accidentally got pumped straight into my arm as opposed to the vein. Therefore my arm was swollen with Saline and it needed time to work it's way through my system. She gave me a script for anti-inflamatory and anti-biotics and sent me on my way. We spent the evening in the parking lot at the Walgreen's watching the fire works while waiting for the Pharmacy to finish up. I was advised to follow up with my Family Practice on the next business day, which unfortunately was on the following Tuesday due to the holiday break.
When I saw my Family Practice he advised me to get a brace for my wrist, gave me pain killers and a note to stay off work for a full week. He explained that if I used my hand too much I risked the saline causing a blood clot that could travel up my arm to my heart and causing severe damage. Thanks for freaking me out even more Doc. Anyway the point of the story is that this was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Somewhat similar to a major tooth ache (of which I've had a few, and something I do not wish on my worst enemy). So by comparison the pain I felt after working out quite a bit was not as bad as this, but still enough to make me stay off the Eliptical until I could see my doctor again and discuss my issues.
Very typical of any Doctor, when I explained my problem he said "Well if it hurts, don't do that." Something I grew up hearing my Dad say who is a P.A., however, unfortunately not very helpful. He then suggested getting traction done at Physical Therapy. But again, being the chicken shit that I am and hurting as bad as I was I was afraid to go. I was afraid it would make it worse and I was already limping and really couldn't handle anything like traction at the time. Now that I'm feeling more healed from that I may give it a try but it will depend on how this Epidural works out. My thoughts for finally going through with the shot was that maybe it would mask any hurt I feel while working out. I won't go all G.I. Jane on it, but hopefully it will allow me to continue this healthy change and eventually maybe I will have done enough that I won't need the shot. It's my hope anyway, it may be total flubber but it's helping me make it through.
So I scheduled an A.M. appointment for today, my arrival time? 7:45am. If you've read my previous blog you know I am not now nor will I ever be a morning person. Second downer? No eating or drinking for 6 hours before the appointment. I was so partched by the time the proceedure took place I was caughing a lot. I had a damn tickle in the back of my throat. Nothing to do but try and tough it out. So I've barely slept, and I'm dying of thirst and I'm about to go through with something that has scared the crap out of me for months. They took my blood pressure when I got there it was 115/75 which is a bit high for me. I've been trying to pay attention to these things as of late. I was clearly anxious. Thankfully my husband was with me yet again, he not only held my hand as we walked in, but gently kept his hand on my leg while I waited. He knew I was very nervous and was very sweet about it. He's a good guy.
When they took me back to the X-ray room where the proceedure was to take place I was trying to calm myself by taking deep breaths and staring at the ground. I could hear the nurses talking to me, telling me what they wanted me to do and what they were doing (lay on your stomach, scootch down, I'm going to lift your shirt up a bit and pull your pants down, I'm going to clean off your back, this will be cold...etc.) The Doctor talked me to briefly, he explained the proceedure to me and talked to me about my pain and where it was localized so he could pin point the best place for the injection. Due to the fact that my pain starts on the right side but gravitates to my left he thought two injections were in order. Yes. Two. One on each side. Did I mention they pulled my pants down to the bottom of my bottom? So my cheeks are just out there, getting cold and feeling insecure while two female nurses moved around me quickly and the Doctor began the proceedure.
Doctor: "One prick and it will sting and burn for a few seconds"
Me: "Ok" and then "Ouchhhhhhshhhit." Followed by me squeezing my eyes shut.
Doctor "And scan that" a pinch to my skin "And scan that" another pinch "And scan that" and then "Ok this is going to feel like pressure on your back and it will go down your leg"
Me: "Great." Eyes still pinched shut.
This repeated on the other side and then thankfully it was all over. The Doctor said it went nicely and they rolled me onto yet another gourney and offered me a soda. They knew I was thirsty as hell and I eagerly accepted the cold Pepsi. They had to take my blood pressure two more times before they would let me leave, I asked my husband to read it off to me the first time it went off 109/70, already more normalized. I was feeling better albiet quite numb. The nurse to checked me out asked me to rate my pain again but I couldn't on account of the fact that I couldn't really feel anything in my back at all. Just discomfort but nothing serious.
The drive home was a bit worse, I guess sitting like that didn't help anything but I started to feel more and more uncomfortable and every time I moved I felt a pinch of some sort near the injection site. Probably the band aid pulling my skin. I was told that I would need to take the day off of work to heal. But no one could tell me what it would be like, this recovery. No one from my Ortho Doctor to the Nurse specialist who scheduled the appointment to the nurses doing the actual proceedure could explain it in any way that made sense. When I told them I just felt weird they resonded by saying "until you've been through it, it's hard to explain what it feels like" Yea, no shit. Its like the worst kind of aching. My whole lower back just aches and aches. No position is comfortable; sitting, laying down, standing it all sucks and I find myself adjusting every few minutes. And yet, I'm still hopeful that this will help. Apparently it can take as long as 2 full weeks for the steroid to take full affect and for me to feel better (so much for instant gratification), and still, I'm hopeful. Maybe I'll be one of those people that gets results after only a few days. Here's hoping. So I've spent the day in varying degrees of pain and discomfort hopful that I will feel better tomorrow after I've had a chance to sleep it off.
After a flustered post on Facebook I received a call from my Dad (the aforementioned P.A. or Physicians Assistant) to discuss my proceedure and give me some advise on moving forward. I have always counted on my Dad for sound medical advice and I view his opinion in much higher esteem than any of the other doctors I have seen recently. He was not too keen on my having had the shot citing that it's only ever a temporary fix and can make the situation worse. He gave me some ideas for different types of physcial thereapy to try; Alexandria Technique, something that has been very affective for professional athletes and dancers. I am a former Highland Dancer and it's very possible I have a long standing injury as the style of dance is extremely aggressive and hard on your body. I will check it out, at this point I just want to do what ever I can to make my situation better. I need to get through my every day life without pain or at least reduced amounts of pain. I will give anything a shot at this point, hense the shot.
And so there it is. Some of my current medical conditions coming from the mind of someone uneducated in these things and hopful for things to get better.
Ok...But why are my arms numb? My arms feel like they fell asleep hours ago into some kind of coma that they refuse to get up from. Highly annoying. If it gets any worse I'll head back to the E.R. as suggested by my P.A. Father, otherwise I'll call the Doctor's office tomorrow and let them know the situation.
C'est la vie.
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