The 8th Nerve

- Locked my keys in my car. I walked down the street, in the rain, and enlisted some guys from the nearest gas station. This eventually resulted in the lovely sound of the door unlocking. Neither would let me pay them.

-Picked up some frozen pizza and a bottle of wine. All for me.

-If you drink and then blog, you are not drinking alone.

-Lit candles in various rooms to freshen over the odor of Man and Dog Working from Home.

-Stared intently into the dog’s eyes and ordered that he drop the dish sponge. Dog looks back with an expression that says Bring it and clamps down.

-I am useless, despite a number of lessons, given with barely contained patience, in How to Unhinge the Dog Mouth.

-Eventually ripped the sponge out and let him eat the remaining bite in his mouth.

-Pajamas and slippers. And dark chocolate.

-Watched the 400th episode of the Simpsons recorded on DVR.

-Now it’s time to curl up and read.

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May 30th 2007Everyday life

The view from the Adirondack cottage:

Current generation:

Next generation:

The original Native American name for Lake George meant “where the mountains close in”:

View from the hike to Inspiration:

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May 28th 2007Friends & Pictures & Trips

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May 24th 2007Friends & Pictures

I went home this afternoon with a fever and by the time I got to the doctor I had a 103 degree fever, and my throat was killing me. I was relieved to hear that it was strep throat. A sore throat and fever was how my 6 week stint with bronchitis started and the thought of coughing for another six weeks was enough to get me to set up a doctor’s appointment within hours and be willing to sacrifice my soul for some powerful antibiotics.

Fortunately it was just strep throat. When I was a kid I got them all the time and by the time I was a teenager my tonsils looked like the surface of the moon. The “pink medicine” I got to take each time I had strep was yummy though and the only medicine I’ve ever known to taste good.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the growing occurrence of being seen by doctors that appear to be my age.

Steve and I took a spontaneous trip to Montreal and stayed overnight this past weekend. We definitely need to go up there more often. I’m intrigued by how flat the land becomes as soon as we cross the border. Makes me wonder how much the landscape determines the boundaries between states and countries.

We found a hotel right around the corner from Rue St Catherine for a really decent price and big continental breakfast the next morning. The downside appeared to be that you had to request an iron and ironing board from the front desk. None of the rooms had their own. I calculate that 45% of their job at the front desk must consist of going up and down the elevator with the iron and ironing board. “All the irons were busy” when we requested one and we had to wait. Otherwise, great deal. If only I had known about this hotel all those other times I’ve been to Montreal! I would be hundreds of dollars richer.

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May 21st 2007Misc & Trips

I attended an amazing training two weekends ago. I am still processing and haven’t found a way to write about it yet. The thing that strikes me most perhaps is how comfortable I felt after telling my story, and after everyone told theirs I felt like I knew them better than most of my friends. I wonder about everyone’s story. I wish this kind of in depth engagement and realness occurred regularly.

Other than that I have been kayak shopping and driftwood painting and getting back into running. After work Lucky and I head out and the stress melts away as we walk the peaceful, tree lined roads. Everything is green and blooming and alive and the walk back overlooks the hills and the wide river.

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May 15th 2007Introspection & Pets & Pictures

(I forgot to close the battery compartment on the middle and last aids but whatever)

The hearing aid on the left is the analog behind the ear. I wore this kind from age 2 to age 23. This type of aid amplified all sound to the same level. Everything was just… loud. Just about every situation that was not face to face in a quiet room was a struggle.

The aid in the middle is one of the first generation digital aids. These aids could be plugged into a computer and programmed with the results of my audiogram. In a sense, the aids were custom made for my specific hearing loss. Plus, this aid had a switch specifically for situations with background noise, like a party or restaurant. When I put it on the switch, the aids turned the direction forward and reduced the sounds behind it. Instead of 360 sound, I got 180 sound. The aids were also able to pick up certain unnecessary, non-verbal sounds and mute them, like the drone of the car or a fan.

All of this was a huge help. I was able to follow conversations in environments where I never could before. I wore these for six years. Hearing aids are like a car, after about six years they start to break down and there is no telling how expensive it will be or how long it will take to fix. The technology is amazingly consistent though. I’ve never had to send these away to get fixed. They worked every single day of my life without fail.

The aid on the right I just got today! Of course, health insurance did not cover the cost whatsoever which is fucking appalling. I still have to read the booklet that came with it, but based on what the audiologist told me this thing has a mind of its own. There are no buttons or switches. The aids are programmed by the computer based on my audiogram and constantly working to adapt to the environment and have specific settings for the phone, background noise, and music. The aids sense and switch modes automatically.

Things sound different. I still have to try them out in a variety of situations. It is a big mental and physical adjustment, but it’s exciting too.

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May 7th 2007Hearing loss

“I agree completely. Especially in light of the really nice, non-objectifying picture of your boobs your husband just posted over on his site.

www.stevemaas.com/fog”

To which my response was: “Yeah, but those boobs are REAL.”

This was countered by: “Oh, I see. So it’s OK for men to objectify women as long as the boobs are REAL ; )”

To which I thought long and hard and replied thusly: “If it [REAL BOOBS] is the genuine authentic article, it is always deserving of recognition and praise! Like legitimate antiques and original works of art. Fake boobs on the other hand…that’s just false pretense and imitation. Like Pottery Barn and Olive Garden. When you view an original work of art, you should appreciate and admire for as long as you wish because it is making you a better person. However, if you have a meal at Olive Garden, you may enjoy the meal but you feel disgusting and less human afterwards because you just SOLD OUT (:”

That’s the difference. I think my previous entry also stems from a personal feeling of how there are handicaps and traumas of many different sorts that cannot ever be changed. One must spend a lifetime reconciling to it, but some people are going to take perfectly fine boobs and make them bigger any way they can because they don’t think they’re good enough or they need some sort of validation? Seriously, talk about spoiled.

I signed up for a 2 and a half day Diversity training. I know the trainers will make it a very thought provoking and enlightening experience despite the fact that it is a difficult and weighty topic. So I signed up, even though it is all weekend long. It’s going to be good.

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May 3rd 2007Misc

When I take Lucky for a walk, he’ll sometimes grab a bone to carry in his mouth for the entire walk. On the walks when he takes his bone along, he trots along like a dog on a mission. He does not stop to smell his usual smells. Cars and people that pass by (not that many, this is Vermont after all) must wonder what is sticking out of his mouth like a giant doobie. Never fails to crack me up.

PET PEEVE CORNER

I’m in one of my moods where I just want to vent and fume about things.

FAKE BOOBS. I can’t stand it when girls talk about getting them or think that they need them. For the love of God, boost your vain, immature, superficial ego some other way. Get into therapy and work on your insecurity issues and get to the root of your real complexes. Is your self-worth so low that you only feel good if men openly objectify you and other women hate your guts? Do you really want to look that disproportionate? If your body is not meant to have Barbie doll breasts, it is not meant to have Barbie doll breasts. There’s more to life than your appearance.

Are women with fake boobs even still capable of breast feeding? What happens when they get older and everything starts sagging except their pads of silicone? Even worse to contemplate, what is the life expectancy of silicone pads? If you get hit hard enough in the boob, will it pop? If you get old enough, will it spring a leak and gush into your bloodstream? I hope so.

PET PEEVE CORNER OVER.

Time to go walk Lucky. Let’s see if he takes his bone this time.

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May 1st 2007Misc