Category Archives: health

A Mini Update

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The car is ok.

The issue was that the new battery wasn’t connecting to the car properly! I never looked – I should have – panic over nothing. Fixed free of charge, and a hook up to the computer to see if anything else is error-messaging. All clear!

Hubby went to work today, he is fine but a bit tired (and got lots of comments on the fact he lost visible weight while in hospital. Worst crash diet ever). He is right now getting the exhaust tied on tighter via a LocalLad Redneck Repair service – otherwise known as a friend with car-ramps and, oh yes, an engineering degree. This could be very good, or very bad!

The car is vital – not just everyday, but this week especially so, for me. On Saturday, I finally get to meet one of my blogging buddies in person! It’s so exciting. There are so many of you that I’d love to laugh in person with. After four years of doing this blog (the anniversary was early last month, whoops), and my not being able to travel the whole time for financial reasons, someone is finally able to come here! She hasn’t posted in ages so I won’t link back, but we’ve had a few Skype and land-line phone conversations and I just think she’s the bee’s knees. I get the feeling we are going to embarrass our respective husbands – sure hope they get along as I think we are going to regress to silly mode right away.

Things are looking up! Wait, what: was that me just being positive? I don’t have a photo for that…

  
…maybe I do? Enjoy some happy Irish heather that I dug out of a bog and moved to my garden, enjoying October sunshine. 

Ugh, Life

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I’ve been MIA lately. Hubby has had a bad scare with his kidneys, out of the blue, and ended up hospitalised for a week. We still don’t know what happened to cause the injury to his kidneys, and he isn’t out of the woods yet – but is improving – albeit slowly.

It’s been scary – he is only 42 – and being in the hospital here isn’t fun. Not that it is fun anywhere, ever. I’ll just say that the nurses are fantastic, the doctors not so much.

We’ll know more next Wednesday.

In other news, our 2003 Mini (with over 140,000 miles) has now developed a new problem, which I think is a dead alternator. Two short trips, turning off the engine each time, and the third ended with click-click-click when turning the key. A new battery died immediately after another short trip, and then a longish drive to charge it up had the headlights dying, the wipers stopping mid-wipe, and the radio turning itself off. Has to be the alternator.

Poor iDJ was the one behind the wheel for all this, too. He’s barely been out of the house for a week, and this was his first time in the car by himself in two weeks, and this shit piles on his head. 

I had this same thing happen to me in the early 90’s (maybe actually in 1990) when I was hundreds of miles away from home trying to make money for my family doing a shitty jewlery sales job and driving my 1979 Datsun 210B station wagon. A dead alternator kills your car. I bought a newish one and installed it myself. No google back then, either. 

I have to go to work on Monday, and we need to go food shopping tomorrow – with no car. I really wish we had something like that old Datsun so I could make it all better with scrapyard parts, but a Mini engine compartment is so crammed with gear there isn’t any room to work. Not to mention all the computerised everything.

I guess I’m officially old when I remember the days we could fix our cars ourselves. Even when being a female with very very limited tools.

A post from me isn’t a post without a photo – so here is our first snow of winter 2015.

  
Isn’t it pretty? Do you see the whirlwind circle like I do?  

Ganglion Aft A-gley

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I went to the doctor today for the lump in my wrist. Said lump has come and gone for years. Usually it hangs around for a week or two and goes back into hiding. Well, this time I have had about five months of looking like I have a second ulna-knob. Hehe, I said knob. It has been aching at work, and if I whack it on something I don’t cry (I do not cry) but I get angry at the pain, which isn’t fun for anyone. 

On Sunday I tried to open a jar and not only did it bloody well hurt, it kinda popped inside my wrist in a very unsettling way. That was enough for me to give up and go for professional help. If I can’t open a damn jar, how can I do my job safely with all the lifting and pulling?
  
Like my new socks? How about the doggie feet? Action shot!

Doc says it is a ganglion cyst. Not the biggest she’s seen, but not the smallest either (I have another on the side of my right wrist and don’t care about that one as it is sooo weee). 

Ganglion cysts are pockets of thick goo that grow on the sheath to your tendon. Sounds fun! I can’t find the website Doc showed me, but basically you can aspirate it (suck the goo out), or you can pop it (drop a heavy-ass book on it and hope! Doc did make a quip about Bible-bashing, I swear she did! Awesome). But in either of those options, the pocket is still there and likely to refill.

So – surgery it is! It doesn’t worry me, and dudes dig scars, so I’m now on the waiting list. The question is – what should we name my passenger before I cut it out? 

Ha! No the real question is – how long is the wait? Might as well ask how long is a piece of string. I’ll know when I know, and probably with only a few days to a week of notice. Of course I had to post about it today as proof of the time frame. It will be much more interesting to see how long it takes!

I really hope I can take pictures. I totally want to see what this bad girl looks like. Any glimpse of the rest of my wrist-mechanics is also a draw for me! Stay tuned, kids!

Throwing my Weight Around

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I still haven’t gotten another chance to go firewalking, and I’ve been so damn bored around the house. Sure I have projects I could do – but cleaning mildew off the bathroom ceiling isn’t nearly as fun as goofing around online and/or/while drinking beer.

I’ve been wanting to do something physical. I can’t play team sports worth a hoot, or run far, and cycling is not of any interest to me (I’d rather look at the scenery up close than see it as a blur). Swimming means a drive and a massive dose of chlorine, or a drive and a wetsuit that won’t keep me from freezing my proverbials* off. Plus its still dark when I get home from work, ugh.

(*proverbial balls. I don’t literally have them, so I call them my proverbials.)

When one of my coworkers – who is also a FB friend – put up a notice that he would be teaching a self-defence class starting at 6:30 in the evening, I jumped on it. I could get there just 15 minutes late each class, if he didn’t mind? ‘Not a problem.’ Anything I need to buy or know in advance? ‘Not a thing.’

So I jumped online and did some research on the type of art he teaches. It is called Krav Maga. Here’s the Wiki definition:

“Krav Maga or “contact combat” is a self-defense system developed for the military in Israel that consists of a wide combination of techniques sourced from Boxing, Judo, Aikido, and Wrestling along with realistic fight training. Krav Maga is known for its focus on real-world situations and extremely efficient and brutal counter-attacks. It was derived from street-fighting skills developed by Hungarian-Israeli martial artist Imi Lichtenfeld, who made use of his training as a boxer and wrestler as a means of defending the Jewish quarter against fascist groups in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia in the mid-to-late 1930s. In the late 1940s, following his immigration to Israel, he began to provide lessons on combat training to what was to become the IDF, who went on to develop the system that became known as Krav Maga. It has since been refined for civilian, police and military applications.”

Well, hell. That sounds okay to me. Not exactly what I was looking to do, but it’s something! Deciding factors: I like that it was developed to help the oppressed, I know the trainer, I can get there nearly on time, it isn’t on a awkward day of the week, and it sounds bad-ass.

Who doesn’t want to be a bad-ass?

While I can’t (at this time) see myself going for belts and whatnot, I have had two classes now and have enjoyed myself immensely. I’m pretty strong from walking 10+km per day and hefting boxes five days a week at work, and pretty much everyone knows I have excess aggression to work off. That said, I’d never worn boxing gloves or thrown an actual punch in my life until last week. Proud to say I’m not timid about it: I only go lightly until I think I have the move down and then I try to hit as hard as I can! I find if I stop focussing on the pad and look at the human behind it, I hit harder and more accurately.

I think that means I want to beat people up, not objects. Or maybe I just really get the point? I do see quite quickly the reasons why you do or do not move a certain way – how you can leave yourself open, for example. This is not polite dancing around, this is the stuff that teaches you to break fingers, arms, legs, poke out eyes, rip off testicles. I never saw the need to fight nicely, so it suits me. If someone comes at me, they should pay for it.

I’ve discovered that I don’t care for being the body that is used for examples. My wrists are flimsy and thin – wrists and fingers are some of the main points you use against an attacker – amazing how many ways your wrist can be bent that makes you fall to the floor in agony. I also bruise easily, so in addition to the numerous bumps and whatnot I magically seem to grow on a daily basis, I also have new ones from being pinched in the bingo-wing (holy crap that hurts: a good move if you don’t really want to beat the shit out of your opponent but stop them cold).

I really enjoyed the sparring, fists only, during my first lesson. I bet if anyone had taken video, I had a smile on my face the whole time.

I’m better at the kicks, for power only. My accuracy sucks. My left leg is only really good at side-kicks, so far. I think my wonky back makes it hard for me to move certain ways, too. I’ve gotten quite good at ignoring my back over the years. My right shoulder decided to give me shit after the first lesson – never had that happen before. Rotator cuff? I didn’t baby it during the second class when I did an elbow punch that let me know right away that that was what my shoulder didn’t like the week before. The Boss said I could stop but I did another, and I think I feel better this week. Screw you, shoulder!

Other than that, I’ve not been very sore at all after a class. Either The Boss is taking is easy on me, or I am ignoring the aches and pains as I’m used to doing, or I actually don’t hurt. Hard to say.

This week, I learned how to keep someone off me while flat on my back on the ground. This involves lots of spinning about on your spine while holding your head up to see. My neck got quite sore during, but what got me the next morning was my lower back. I felt bruised to the touch. So last night, I asked hubby dear to have a look at my lower back to see if there was a mark.

Him: “Yep, you have a Tijuana Licence Plate!”

Me: “Say what?”

Him: “A tramp-stamp of a bruise!”

Maybe I should get it tattooed on – I get the feeling I’m going to have a lot more.

A Picture Speaks a Thousand Words?

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I’m super low on energy as I have some sort of upper respiratory infection.

Also, coming down off the Paddy’s Day festivity excitement is slightly depressing.

Also, I always get a little weirder than normal in the spring. Even as a child, spring has messed with my head. All that potential life and energy and just plain potential, stored up and waiting to burst into…. well, I never quite managed to burst into anything particularly special so maybe that’s why I get a bit bummed out.

Anyhoo – I got a wee ceramic watering can and some narcissus bulbs for Christmas. I planted them and left them on my kitchen windowsill to grow.

And they did, of course. And they also looked like Spottie’s favourite snack – a long stringy thing. After he had a good munch, I moved them to the fireplace mantle, which is out of reach and too crammed with stuff for Spot to consider jumping up.

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I thought I was just taking a picture of my flowers. But what I saw was a little snapshot of me and who I am, displayed above my fireplace. Shall we have a tour?

Left to right: The plate is one made by my dad and his wife. She is a potter, amongst many other talents, and for several years they made Celtic pottery and toured the USA selling their wares at Irish festivals. Absolutely stunning work, and I’m very happy and proud to display their craft where it can be seen immediately. I’d love to share a link, but sadly they have retired from pottery-making.

The skulls – in old Ferrero Rocher chocolate boxes, no less – are ones I found myself. Top is a fox, bottom is a groundhog. I have a cat and an opossum, too – they just aren’t in the photo.

Well, the flowers of course. The wee watering can actually works as one, so it is pretty efficient at getting rid of excess water, despite having no drainage holes at the bottom (ye know, where they normally are). If you have time to stand around holding it at an angle to drip while keeping the long leaves from breaking. Meh. Will move the narcissus elsewhere I think.

The wonderful Celtic-carved skull! Man I love that thing. I bought it at the Cleveland Irish festival one year when dad came to sell their wares. I just fell in love with it. I believe I got it from Gaelsong – be warned, they are more than happy to send you catalogs full of drool-worthy items. I don’t see much stuff of their quality even over here. Maybe they just have an awesome photographer…

The wee white thing is a Philips IMAGEO LED candle light – we have them in red and blue and just love them. That’s the US/Canada link, but of course they sell them in Ireland and the UK (not sure about Australia/New Zealand). Cheap to run, charge quickly and cheaply, can be used on the charge base while lit, and give nice flickery light for hours and hours with no fire danger. I’d give them a 10 out of 10.

There is also the tiniest bit of a postcard that Socks sent me from her vacation to Maine in the fall of last year. ‘got lobstah?’ Hahahaha! I’d love to go to Maine.

Last – because it is not the least, not by any means – is the Ouija board.

I wrote so very much about that board that I think I will have to take a better photo of just the board and do a separate post. It’s incredibly important to me and deserves an explanation.

What treasures do you keep in a place of honour?

Ugh!

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This sponsored ad started showing up in my Facebook feed yesterday.

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Is that picture on the left of a fat girl? NO. Is that picture on the right of an emaciated, bony, bitchy-looking girl? YES.

I have no idea why anyone would want to look like the girl on the right. She was happy enough to be seen in a bikini in the first shot, right? So why go for the half-dead, oh here are my hipbones, don’t cut yourself! look?

And why they hell is it being suggested to me? I follow more pubs than hair salons (and only the salon that is owned by a good friend). I don’t make friends of fashion sites or diet sites or makeup sites, etc, etc. FB needs to try a little harder, because this ad pisses me off. “Woman Daily” is a big fail-y. Using a pic of Posh Spice’s skeletal frame with her built-in silicon airbags is also a huge turn off. What is wrong with the people who think this crap is attractive?

Mushroom Mutt

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Uuuuugh.

Had a slight panic earlier this evening. iDJ was running the BBQ, so I didn’t have much to do but shuttle plates, when needed. I had sunshine for a bit so was out front soaking it in, but when the sun set behind the mountain, I moved to the back yard to be with hubby, his beloved Weber grill, his music, and the very annoying dog.

I expect the dog to be very annoying when we grill. 1: The amazing food smells 2: The hubby feeling guilty about subjecting her to amazing food smells and giving her a ton of treats (usually carrots – but she knows he’s a pushover and works it) 3: Hubby is in and out and in and out and she has to, has to! follow him everywhere.

The last is actually the most annoying factor. She’s an indoor dog, really only outside to do her business in the tiny-ass garden, and for walkies. As such, she’s never unsupervised. But she doesn’t really want to be outside – not unless daddy is outside too. I am not her favourite human, probably because my hands are not made of treats.

Anyway.

The food was nearly done, and I had one eye on the dog who was snuffling around my strawberry / raspberry patch. Hubby and I got talking and I noticed that Neko was near to us and still snuffling. Then she wandered away, and I spotted that something was missing.

There had been a little group of mushrooms in the grass, and now they were gone.

Ohshitohshitohshit.

Our food is cooked and getting drier by the minute, but we both rush to do what we can: me to find my fungi identification and Irish Wildlife books, and hubby to scour the back garden with a flashlight, tongs, and plastic bag for evidence collection. He also did Internet research to see what signs of trouble we should look for.

Neko seems perfectly fine. She ate normally, she’s sleeping normally, and I hear no sounds of intestinal distress (a sign we know well, with her). The thing is: this damn dog loves veggies. Carrots are her favourite treat. Radishes? NOM! The ends of celery, the trimmings of courgette (zucchini!), the rind of a watermelon? Yes, please, and thank you!

So, it really should have occurred to us that she might go grazing in our back garden. It has: but only to the point where we didn’t want her to realise that blueberries are awesome. Or raspberries. She’s already figured out tomatoes, dammit. We never thought she’d realise fungi could be edible…

Not sure if she’s dammed stupid, or dammed smart.

I had a bit of playtime with her, with the intention of sussing out her mental state.

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She always splays her forelegs out like that, and yes, she always looks that pleadingly pathetic. No wonder hubby is the big sucker of the family.

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That just does not look comfortable, mushroom-highor not.

Anticipation

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Greetings and salutations.

My beloved sunshine is taking a holiday this week, so I’m stuck inside again. I don’t care for it, nosiree. All I can see inside is all the crap that needs done – dust and junk everywhere, paperwork needing filed, dishes to wash, blah blah blah. I do a bit when I can face it. It’s pretty overwhelming.

I fixed the sliding glass door as it kept sticking, but it is sticking again. I fixed hubby’s sneakers but they haven’t been tested for durability yet. Um. I’m sure I’ve done more but my powers of concentration are pretty weak. Someone gave me Kryptonite apparently. Or it could be the depression, or the happy pills trying desperately to work. We will see. I’ve been let off work until June 29. Wow. I didn’t think I was that bad. Doc thinks I am. And while I can’t get fired, I am only getting €84 a week for being out sick. That means I’m worth about €2.10 an hour, or about $2.80. With no tips on the horizon. Pretty much I’m running the household into the negative just by being alive. Ah, I’m all cheered up now.

So! My theme today is anticipation. Me getting better is something I’m still unable to see myself. So I’ll have to go with my garden and all the exciting things about to happen out there, in the slow, green, growing world. Good thing – that’s about the most excitement I can handle right now. I got the shakes just from a dentist appointment – and I’m a very good, non-terrified dental patient.

Anticipation of these babies from last year, whatever they are. iDJ’s uncle knows but I’ve forgotten.

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Sorry, I forgot these first pics were taken on our new superduper camera, a Nikon D3100. I can barely use it, so these pics are probably friggin’ enormous.

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Smaller, I hope. They all are the same size on my iPad! My blueberries are all a bloom and attract so many bees. Bumblebees, but I’ll take what I can get.

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New raspberry plants are just starting to bloom.

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…and we just had a small nuke go off in the house, because I broke my only, and 99.8% full, bottle of rum. It went everywhere, as liquid and broken glass are wont to do. Sigh. Won’t be anticipating another rum and Pepsi, I guess. Back to plants. Something’s got to cheer me up. How about a rosebud?

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Or a teeny-tiny baby carrot?

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My daisy-like weed about to bloom, backed by the mystery plant which now has red blooms to go with the cream and bright yellow?

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The orange lilies are getting so close – they are in a big pot and live outside all year around.

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The black lilies and whatever else I put in here are growing like mad – up to mid-thigh on me now! We are back to iPhone pics now, as I was getting frustrated with the fancy-pants camera (it was set to shoot raw, by the way. So accidentally I took really sophisticated pics of not-blooming plants).

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My California poppies – I swear two days ago there were no flower stalks. Now they are nearly ready to go!

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My last photo is not anticipatory. My iris have, boom bam wow, bloomed overnight. And I’ve never seen them so tall!

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A diary type of post

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Let’s see. Today, for me, started at midnight when I had a very late dinner of hot chicken wings, and then decided I would sleep in the hammock. I put out two blankets, one on top and one underneath, and my pillow. I also wore a long sleeved shirt, sweatpants, and socks just in case it got cold or there were midges aprowl.

I passed out quite quickly, as I normally do. This time it was without the help of a book or my ipad, as I didn’t want any settling dew to ruin either. I woke up all the way just once during the night, and looked up to see the Big Dipper overhead. I cuddled into my blankets happily and went right back to sleep.

About 5 am the sun was coming up, and it seemed that the dew point had finally been reached as I felt distinctly damp. I was also resting most of my arse and back on the ground. I guess the cotton of the hammock stretches more when damp, or it had finally given up on holding my substantial self off the ground. I brought my covers and pillow inside, and found hubby still asleep on the couch. I chased him off by talking utter nonsense, he told me later, and I didn’t wake up until 10am. Yikes: I’m normally up at 7, 7:30.

From the couch I can’t really see if the sun is out; can’t see if it will be a good day. I got up, had some water, drank the last of my iced tea, went outside for about 10 minutes and realised it was too hot, already – so I went back inside and watched a truly terrible episode of Stargate SG1. Just when I started to fall asleep I made myself get up and go back outside.

It was actually, truly, HOT today. By 5:30 it was 31.7 out – or 89 in American money (as hubby likes to say). I spent most of my day in shorts and a bikini top, and even then I had to move out of the sun quite often. I went to the shop once, for smokes, and took a shower (dammit, I’m peeling – I really did get some sunshine). After 3 I walked to the doctor and found out I get another week off work.

Hubby is doing a BBQ tonight – he goes a bit mad and tonight we have three kinds of sausages, chicken wings, pork chops, and maybe some corn (just for me). No, we don’t have company over. He just really likes to cook. He brought me a sampling of wings and a sausage a few minutes ago, as I sat out front getting the last rays. What a lovely thing to do. I feel terrible that I’m out front and he’s out back.

Oh, I should show you my tan. It’s especially funny compared to hubby’s Irish complexion:

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Is that not bloody amazing? I love how he only has freckles up to where a short-sleeved shirt ends, and then he’s alabaster white above that line. Me? Even the paler underside of my arms, or my palms, aren’t as white as he is. He truly is the whitest man I know. Who loves hip-hop. Go figure.