Out of the closet

I finally told my boss and the other members of my team that I have MS. I've been having some memory problems lately, and they've affected my work. I've got a call into my neuro's office to ask about ALCAR or a prescription alternative. Everyone on my team has been very supportive. It turns out to be a good thing I 'fessed up--one of my co-workers was thinking that because the mistakes I made aren't understandable for someone "as smart as you are," she thought I had a drinking problem.

Coping with all of this lately has been hard, and last weekend, I allowed myself a good long wallow in depression and self-pity. That's pretty much over, but in today's mail there was one more reason to be grateful for all of the love and support I get from friends and family.

The back story:

Earlier this year, my friend Kogi did a gorgeous mug for a customer that was black and covered with roses. The pics were beautiful, and at some point after I saw them, I was on the phone with Kogi, and said that I wanted a rug with moses on it for myself. She said I might get one for Christmas and we kept talking. A minute or two later, the penny dropped, and I interrupted Kogi to ask "Did I just say I wanted a rug with moses? I meant a mug with roses!" Kogi had to stop and think about it, because she'd heard what I meant to say, not what I actually said.

Today, when I got home from work, there was a box from Colorado on my doorstep, containing the most beautiful rug with moses that I have ever seen. I'll take a picture and post it at some point, but right now, I just have to cuddle my present and think again how very lucky I am.

Dear Snickers,

Damn you, you horrible man. Okay, granted, I lent you some of my Terry Pratchett books, the ones about Death, but that did not call for such an extreme level of retaliation!

I have been pretty much safe from reading science fiction since Ender's Game and its sequels. I adored those books, but I thought there wasn't much new out there.

Did you really need to send me a copy of Hyperion? It was so good that not only did I finish it today, I did something I am not supposed to do under any circumstances.

I went to Borders.

Yes, I went to an actual brick and mortar bookstore, and worse, I paid retail! *gasp of horror*

To make matters worse, I couldn't just buy the two books that complete the Hyperion series. *bitter laugh* No, I bought four other books.

Why did you do this to me, Snickers, WHYYYYY?

Technical difficulties

We're sorry, the Jammies you are attempting to reach is experiencing a shortage of goodmoodedness. If you wish to reach the grumpypuss bitchy Jammies, please leave a message after the beep.

Grrr--parents!

Yes, I'm lucky to still have them and to have a good relationship with both of them.

However, sometimes they are, in a lovely Regency phrase, the outside of enough.

Flannel Jammies decided back in August that she and I needed to power-wash my house. Plaid Jammies agreed to let us use the little electric pressure-washer and come over long enough to show us how to use it. After thinking it over for a while, he decided that it wasn't powerful enough and would take to long, so he needed to come along and bring the big gas-powered washer. They were supposed to arrive Saturday morning at 10. At 9:30, FJ called and said there was an oil leak in the pressure-washer, and they'd be coming on Sunday. There followed a short discussion about scheduling, owing to the fact that I had to work Sunday morning at FJ's office.

I spent Saturday under the influence of large amounts of Benadrool, and didn't manage to do any laundry or cleaning because I discovered after I had taken said Benadrool that I was out of salt for the water softener (and was unable to drive to the store and get any). Sunday morning I was up at 6:30, dropped off some boxes at the house Mom & I are slowly cleaning out, went to her office and worked, hit Home Depot for softener salt, mulch and spray paint, and got home about three minutes before my folks arrived.

Pressure-washing is fun but it's work. The worst area of mold and yuck was on the west wall of the house, which gets almost no sunshine. Cleaning that wall took about an hour, after which Plaid Jammies decreed it was time for a lunch break. Over lunch, he just happened to mention that he's having hernia surgery on Thursday.

Hello? Surgery in four days? Were you PLANNING to tell me at all? Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

I refrained from smacking him and just ate my Sun Chips, but seriously. My parents' secrecy about medical matters drives me bonkers sometimes. Anyone who would care to send some good vibes to the curmudgeon who sired me, the surgery is Thursday morning, outpatient with a sedative and local anesthetic. They can't do it laparoscopically because they need to insert a piece of mesh, apparently, so it's going to be done via incision.

After casually dropping this bombshell, the folks were ready to go back to work. Dad actually let Mom & I do any washing that didn't involve being up on a ladder, and although it is immodest for me to say it, I was much better than Mom. She's too slow and she doesn't get up under the folds in the siding. After hearing about her insufficiences from Dad, she took my ladder and started cleaning the outside of the windows on the walls we had washed. I discovered this morning that she had also washed all the windows of my car--no more dog snot (or as Zayrina prefers to call it, puppy kisses).

We ran out of time owing to the late start, so Dad agreed to leave the little electric washer with me. I did the front of the house all by myself (yay me!) and then had a quick lesson about how to use the little washer, complete with instructions on not getting the plug wet. Right, Dad, I was gonna wash that, too. *eye roll*

Overall, the house looks great (the one wall that didn't get done was the east wall, which no one but me can see anyway), I found out about Dad's upcoming surgery, and we mostly had fun and didn't kill each other.

I will say that as miserable as I was this morning, I would not recommend that anyone with a sinus infection pressure-wash her house on a cold autumn day. I wound up leaving work slightly early to go to the doctor and get a 'script for a Z-pack.

*snork*

*kicks universe*

I am so sick of lousy scary things happening to people I care about. Khover getting fired, my dad being diagnosed with diverticulitis, and now some news from a friend that is just horrible on top of what has been a lousy fifteen months without the recent news. I can't help anyone, can't do anything, can't even suffer for them.

*kicks universe again*

Edited to respond to Sherri's comment:

I hope I didn't come off as thinking this was about me, because it's not. In fact, I'd rather this was happening to me as opposed to the people it IS happening to. I know that I have wonderful, loving friends, and my thanks go out to all of you for all the support over the miles and the years. Sherri, thank you for the practical suggestion about how I can help at least one friend.

And the universe continues to be shitty--another forum friend just found out her husband has a tumor in his lung, and a former co-worker was finally diagnosed with MS after two years of doctors' visits, tests and whatnot. Oddly enough, the latter is actually semi-good news, because the penultimate diagnosis was Parkinson's, which is harder to deal with at 46 than MS. I need to pack up all of my "first year with MS" books and things and take them to her when I take the pups in for their 12,000 mile tuneup in two weeks.

It helps to take refuge in the practical things.

*sigh*

One of my very first work friends, someone who became a friend friend, was fired today. I don't know why and I didn't get to see her--apparently she did a whirlwind imitation in cleaning out her cube and left. :(

Very belated JammiesFest Photo Album

But first, a quick thanks to anyone or anything who may be watching over my friends, as Zayrina came through her surgery just fine today and called to talk to me while under the influence of good drugs.

On to the pictures!


Cantina de Jammies:



Bikini Chicken:





Mariachi Coco, home of the white chili con queso Imp dreams of:





Final group picture on the last day of JammiesFest:

Project Walk

is going well. Tonight, Mom & I walked part of a trail at Sand Run Metro Park. Dampy, that's the park we went through on the way to lunch during JammiesFest. We walked for almost an hour, and wore both dogs out. Bigfoot was extra tired, but bless his little heart, he did his best to keep up. Littlefoot will be wearing his Gentle Leader on the next walk, as he about pulled my arm out of the socket trying to play with every dog he saw, and the one he did start to play with, he was going to play rough the way he does with Bigfoot.

I always enjoy talking with Mom, and tonight was no different. She told me about her weekend up at the lake with her group of female attorneys, asked how work was going, and we chatted as we walked. She did say one heretical thing to me--she said (appropos a purchase made by middle little brother) that nobody needs four new books.

Ahem. Everyone needs new books!

When we were done walking, Mom was disappointed that I wouldn't let her hand out puppymonster treats, but as Littlefoot had a soft stool while we were walking and Bigfoot hadn't finished his dinner, I was firm with her. We are definitely going back to Sand Run for our next walk on Monday.

For Z

To cheer you up: Cake Wrecks.

Vehicular Snobservations

To the idiot in the grey car with the Starfleet Academy bumper sticker: Yes, when you drive a grey car in the morning rain and fog with no lights on, it's like your own personal cloaking device. I-77 is a lot smaller than space, however, and on this planet, the Klingons drive great big semi-trucks which will squish you if you invisibly enter their space. Turn your lights on, numbnuts.

To the guy in the Outback wagon: It's just precious that your car is the same color as your little waiter's polo shirt. You're so cute we can't stand you. It was bad enough when you slowed down traffic onto the interstate because you were looking in the rearview mirror and patting your cute little hair. It's inexcusable when you did that in the left lane. Get a damn alarm clock, set it, and get up five minutes earlier so you can groom before you get in the car.

To the elderly couple in the white land yacht with Florida plates: I don't know if you were visiting or moving back to Ohio or what, but if you can afford that car, there are a few other things you should think about buying or renting. First, a U-Haul or your own trailer so you don't overstuff said land yacht with your personal possessions to the point where the rear window is completely blocked. Second, a GPS. It's more than a bit irritating to be stuck behind you as you creep along at 10 MPH, constantly changing your mind about which side street you need to turn left on. Finally, buy a clue. You're too damn old to be trucking a carfull of crap around. Give it all to Starfleet geek or waiter dude, go back to Florida, and stay there!

Finally, to the guy riding shotgun in the pickup truck. This is Akron, not New Orleans or Indianapolis, so there's really no situation where yelling "Show us your tits!" is appropriate. If you were serious, you're a little scary, and if that was meant as humor, you're lame. Oh, and btw--yes, I was wearing a camisole under a half-buttoned shirt, but that one inch of cleavage you could see was really all the good bits. Trust me, if I take off the clothes and the architecturally-structured undergarments, you wouldn't like the result. Go browse the interwebbinetz for boobs to look at, mmkay?

Dayumm, Jammies!

I may not have gotten promoted, but I certainly made my co-workers happy today. Maresche's work baby shower was today, and even though she's on another team, I was invited. I made Jan Hegel cookies as my contribution to the potluck lunch.

Mom's recipe makes a huge cookie sheet full of cookies, so I brought the leftovers upstairs and let my team know to come have some. Everyone liked them, several people had seconds, and three people said, "Dayummm, these are GOOD!" in tones of reverence.

I may have to take some to ImpFest 2008.

ETA: The admin assistant who took a cookie up to her third floor desk yesterday stopped down to see me today and said, "It's too bad you can't bake at all, and may I have the recipe?" *grin*

*insert bad language here*

The co-worker who started two weeks after I did and is 18 years younger than I am got promoted.

I didn't.

*looks for something to kick*

"Some women bond over martinis"

said Flannel Jammies to me as we stood in the rain in my driveway. "Not us!"

We spent most of the day together, from 8:30 this morning until 3:00 this afternoon, cleaning out a Ward's house. We made three trips to Goodwill, donating about $600 worth of clothing and household items, filled two trash cans, and filled my car up with things that might sell (costume jewelry, fur-collared wool coats, handbags and scarves and such). We talked while we worked, got the giggles a lot, and got grossed out once or twice--why do old ladies keep partials in with their jewelry? ICK! In the bathroom, I found a one-liter bottle of old liniment, which was pure isopropyl alcohol mixed with wintergreen oil. Mom poured it down the drain and put the bottle in the recycling bag, and when we left, the house still smelled like a breath mint explosion in a distillery.

It poured all day and gas is back up to $4/gallon, both of which seem to be the effects of Gustav and Ike on Ohio. Since I don't have the Weather Channel (or any cable, for that matter), I am relying on info I pick up on the Internet and from friends. My heart goes out to the people who've had to evacuate, and to the people who should have but didn't.

It's entirely possible that I am too tired for a bath tonight.

Okay, the troll thing

Yes, I have referred to myself as "photographing like a troll."

Yes, I sometimes would like to be a troll and hide under my bridge and let the world go by (an occasional tribute of gold would be nice, but no goats, please).

No, this does not mean I go around thinking of myself as ugly and made of stone. It means that I know that I am not photogenic. I can look in the mirror and think I look nice, or good, or some days, even pretty, and then that's not what the camera sees. To me, it is a fact of life. It's also genetic. My paternal grandmother was a bubbly, giggly, loving person who was a flapper in her youth and in her sixties liked to sprawl on the sofa and watch football while keeping her granddaughter from tickling her feet. In all but one picture we have of her, she looks cold and forgiving, and the two trenches on either side of her mouth don't seem to come from smiling as much as she did.

So to some extent, when I use the words "troll" or "trollish" about how I come across on film (or digital media, whichever), I am identifying myself with a woman I'd have loved to get to know as an adult and who left a marvelous legacy.

And I'm also acknowledging my own tendency to retreat from time to time.

That said, apparently the words offend or upset some of my friends, so I shall make a conscious effort not to use them.

Ahhhhhhhh, now I feel like fall is here!

Okay, so it's still in the 80s every day and I still have to water my tomatoes. Nonetheless, when I went to the grocery store this weekend, they had my beloved girly Harmony Bay Autumn Spice coffee. I know most people think flavored coffee is rubbish, but I love the maple-cinnamon flavor of this coffee, and I spend most of the fall buying 3 times as much as I need so that I can drink it all year.

Tonight, I was thinking about Becs' touching entry about her kitty Dylan. Bigfoot was crying for something, and when letting him out for twenty minutes and refilling the water bowl didn't quiet him, I tried petting him and then giving him a second dinner. It was food that he wanted, and he snarfed it all down, and then came up to lean on me. I ruffled his ears and laid my cheek on the top of his head, then said, "Are you happy? Happy puppies make me happy."

He burped at me. *chortle* Damn, I love that dog.

Late Lunch with Lioness

Very much on the spur of the moment, Fiery Lioness arranged a mini meet & sniff as she was returning to Michigan from Columbus. We met at the Rte. 18 exit from 71N, and headed for Miss Molly's Tearoom in Medina. We got lost on the square with its silly one-way streets and had to call Kogi, who got us the actual address, directions and the phone number.

We made it to the tearoom just as they were closing down the kitchen, so we quickly ordered lunch. Then we could open presents. FL got me an adorable otter and made me a very professional-looking book of otter pictures from her recent zoo visit (Imp, she reminded me of you--she went to a zoo on her honeymoon).



I got her assorted bath products and a very creepy BPAL version of Neil Gaiman's short story "Snow, Glass, Apples." As a side note, that's got to be the perviest version of Snow White I've run across, and not the good kind of pervy, either.

There was much perfoom on the table, and much sniffing was done as we talked.





I found out that Sea of Tranquility, a discontinued scent, is FL's Holy Grail and she doesn't have a bottle. Happily, I remembered that Tangoing Owls has a bottle for sale at a very reasonable price. I felt like a BPAL matchmaker, and was sorry I hadn't worn black with a head scarf. *grin*

As we were finishing our sandwiches, a group of women filed past us to line up for picture-taking in front of the fireplace. We offered to take pictures so that they could all be in them, and it was easy to see that FL has recently experienced a wedding photographer, as she herded the ladies into just the right position for me to take 2 pictures with each camera.

After that, all that remained was for us to pack up the precious and have our picture taken. As usual, I photograph like a troll, but we were having so much fun I'm thrilled to have the picture as a reminder.

Thanks, I needed that.

Work was just peachy until about 2 p.m. when Manufacturing exploded at me and got my boss involved. When everything was fixed up and done, I was just thrilled to get the heck outta Dodge and go walk with my mom and my dogs.

We went to the same park, but tried some different routes on the trail and got in a good forty or forty-five minutes of walking and climbing. I fell once, but thankfully I landed on my fat ass, so no damage was done. Bigfoot lost his footing once and sat down hard, but after Tuesday evening's walk, he was the only one not limping, so I think he's in better shape than I am.

Now that I'm home, I'm debating whether or not tonight calls for one of my hoarded Lush Marathon bubble bars. They're a little stinky, but a lot effective for sore muscles, and stupid Lush is discontinuing them. I have six left, which is twelve baths, and I'm campaigning like mad to get Lush to put them on the Retro menu. That's where they offer small amounts of discontinued items and I definitely will always need my Marathon!

"Chuckery" ≠ "Oxbow"

It has now been over a year since I started at Hyphenated Corp, and while I've settled in well, I do miss my pretty much daily interaction with my mom and friend, Flannel Jammies. About ten days ago, she called with a suggestion that she expected me to dismiss out of hand--we should get together twice a week and exercise. I surprised her by responding to "Don't say anything, just think about it," with "Well, I was going to say yes, but if you want me to wait a week before I do..."

*grin*

We agreed that we would start with walking before we lose the warm weather and the late-day sunlight, and that we would start the day after Labor Day. After several phone calls on Saturday and Monday, I was certain that we were meeting at the Oxbow area of the Summit County Metro Parks promptly at 5:15.

I came home from work, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, loaded the dogs into the car and was in the parking lot by 5:14. At 5:23, I did a quick drive through the other two parking lots in the Oxbow section and didn't see Mom. I returned to the parking lot nearest the trail and the 'Foots and I got out of the car. I walked them around a bit, trying to stay within sight of the parking lot. At ten minutes to six, I stuffed the dogs back in the car and told myself I would do one more circuit of the other two parking lots and then give up and go home.

As I was coming out of the second parking lot, Mom pulled in. She'd been sitting at the Chuckery Area since 5:15, because it was the first branch of the park she saw as she was coming from work. She admitted she hadn't even looked at the sign, just pulled in and waited. It took her 2 phone calls to my house and half an hour before she wondered if she was in the wrong place, and she was actually heading for my house when she saw the Oxbow sign and pulled in.

So we were a little late, but we had a great walk. The trail is 1.2 miles long, edges the Cuyahoga River in a couple of places and is pretty much always within earshot. It did have one stretch that was essentially "Climb this here big hill and we'll put in some railroad ties you can't really pretend are steps," but hey, that's good for the calf muscles!

Mom and I talked as we walked, and laughed a lot, and she kept apologizing until I wanted to smack her (she stopped when I told her that!) and generally had a great time. I'm looking forward to doing it again Thursday night, but without the bit where I drive around parking lots in a car full of panting, smelly 'Foots.

Oh, and both of them drank a bowlful of water each and then crashed out for the rest of the night. I still had to water the plants, bathe, set up the coffeepot and make my lunch for today. Rough life those dogs have...

Anxiety dreams

Friday night: dreamed that I had giant zits in five different places on my face.

Saturday night: dreamed that the waterline into the house was broken and flooding the basement and when I finally got it shut off, I had no water for days.

Ugh.

Note to self

Idea for work pumpkin-carving contest: "I got a rock."