A Bit of an Update

Thanks for your emails and good wishes. Reminds me that I still have some peeps out in the cyber world. Now. If you are big bosomed, and ever thinking of reduction surgery, do it. I've had no pain at all, minimal discomfort, and overall, a very easy time. They tell me this is normal. But what is normal? I know have C cup boobs now, they assure me. So now I can see how huge I really was before. (DDD) yes, I can stand up straight and pull back my shoulders, no trouble. I can lean over the sink to brush my teeth and not have to hold my boobs up and out of the way. Looks like I'm in for an adjustment, but an easy and amusing one. Starting today, I guess I'll see how big my clothes really are. And my next mammogram should show a clear picture of everything. It's all good.

Hello?

It's official: I haven't posted here in a million years, so if anybody's reading this, Wow, you are beyond loyal. Thanks very much.

So, in brief, I'm having a bit of surgery tomorrow that I'd rather not advertise on FB to former students, college friends, distant relatives, and the like, but I thought I'd let anybody still scanning here know about. I'm having breast reduction surgery. I'm not nervous, but getting a little antsy now that all my pre-syrgery tasks are done. I probably won't post here tomorrow, but if you see a hello or some such on FB, you'll know it's over and I'm fine, which I thoroughly expect to be. If you should choose to comment there -- you're very nice people, after all -- let's keep it our little secret. If you have my email, or want it, that's okay, too.

Defintely a lot of weirdness surrounding this on many levels, but all of it good.

xoxo

Uh ...

I somehow assume that you all know I'm still here because I read your posts every day. This is perhaps not my shining intellectual moment. Be that as it may, I'm here, I'm reading, and I'm sort of composing entries to you guys in my head all day long, I just never get around to typing them.

Random thought of the day: In all my cleaning up -- I'll get back to that -- I've come across a big framed print my mother had of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Katie says she'll take it for her apartment because a) it was Grandma's, and b) she knows Grandma liked Don Quixote. What does she know about Don Quixote? Something about windmills. (Although she could probably give an off-the-cuff hour-long lecture on Spain, the Inquisition, the conquest and settlement of Mexico, and such.) I would like to explain to her what Don Quixote meant to my mother, but where to start?

It started, of course, with Man of La Mancha. My parents were both big fans of Broadway shows, especially my mother, who had started going when she was a teenager living in the Bronx. (Her father had started taking her to operas when she was nine or ten.) La Mancha may have been her favorite musical of all time, and this is someone who saw the original cast production of every big-name show from Oklahoma in the forties and up through the late 1980s. The music spoke to her. Although I often say that her favorite song was John Lennon's Imagine -- a word I have tattooed on my leg for that reason, among others -- that was really one of her two favorite songs. the other was The Impossible Dream, especially as sung by Richard Kiley. She and I played the album over and over and over.

I wonder if the kid is willing to sit for the whole story. What I'd really like her to do is listen to the soundtrack. She'll be my prisoner on Thursday, since she's coming her to get her car serviced. (She's smack in the middle of a two-week winter/spring break at the moment.) Anyway, I'll share the lyrics with you below.

In the meantime, I have FINISHED CLEANING MY ATTIC, YES I HAVE TOO. I even vacuumed up there. I also got most of the crap out of the upstairs crafts room that was laying around, and I even have a pattern laid out for cutting. What about the basement, you ask?

The basement is ... maybe half done. You may have heard about flooding in New Jersey last week; my house is elevated and right in the middle of the two rivers that border Bizarro Town, so we don't get flooding, but the basement does get wet in heavy rains, and it did this time, too. I had started the job before the rains, though. I had a junk removal service come and take stuff away, and now I'm building a second pile for them. I've re-arranged shelves and stuff on them, and there is nothing on the floor now that isn't plastic or plastic-covered shelf feet. No more rain worries for me then. What I really can't believe that I'm doing is washing segments of the basement floor as I un-clutter them. In some cases, on my hands and knees; my grandmother is kvelling wherever she is. Hey, both of them are.

It's been very springlike here the last few days; I've even seen a couple of ants in the house, which, yuck, but it's a definite sign of spring. I've been reading a lot, and making bread almost every day. My trip to Harry Potter World with my friend The Other Chai has been postponed until the fall, but I'm thinking pretty seriously about a trip up to Maine in September. (I would be driving up with The Other Chai and E to visit the Chum, who has a summer home there.) We're all retired now! How unreal.

Still dreaming about school, but not as much.

Tomorrow I'm going to the baby shower for my nephew's wife. Little Jake is due in about a month and a half. I'm so excited! I'm trying to decide what I should have him call me in time. My oldest nephew called me by my first name, but the others all called me Auntie, and my kids called their aunts Auntie as well. But I think my niece has first crack at that if she wants it, yes? since she's Jake's direct, first-level aunt. I'm thinking Tante, which is Yiddish for aunt (and curiously, also French, although pronounced differently.) The only other option, is Maxx (double x), which I had the twins call me one summer when they were between Auntie and my name.

Well. My kids are good, Robin turned 30 the other day. And as I promised at her wedding, this year I didn't bring up the number of hours I was in labor with her. Heh.

The Impossible Dream

Lyrics by Joe Darion

In this song, Quixote explains his quest and the reasons behind it ... in doing so,
he captures the essence of the play and its philosophical underpinnings.

To dream ... the impossible dream ...
To fight ... the unbeatable foe ...
To bear ... with unbearable sorrow ...
To run ... where the brave dare not go ...
To right ... the unrightable wrong ...
To love ... pure and chaste from afar ...
To try ... when your arms are too weary ...
To reach ... the unreachable star ...

This is my quest, to follow that star ...
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far ...
To fight for the right, without question or pause ...
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause ...

And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie will lie peaceful and calm,
when I'm laid to my rest ...
And the world will be better for this:
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach ... the unreachable star ...

Recuperation: Complete

I'm declaring te recuperation period after my surgery officially over. In other words, it's time to get off my butt and start getting things done. I have stacks of papers on my desk that need tending to, I have food to freeze and food in the freezer to cook, I have an attic and a basement to tend to.

Since my surgery, I've been doing things that don't require a whole lot of physical activity, or, let's face it, mental acuity. Yesterday, I had lunch with my kids and mentioned something about needing to clean out the attic (which is small, but also sloped, so hard to get in and out of) before I can do the basement, since I need the attic to store certain things in, and Robin said it sounded like a procrastinating tactic to her. Hmmm. Too true. So tomorrow morning I take a look at the attic and see what I can do. Step one.

As for the mental acuity, it's mostly that I don't remember everything I should remember because if I haven't accessed the file, so to speak, in a long time, it's just hard to get back. For example, who were my next-door neighbors growing up? Margie was my friend, and her brother and sister were David and ... damn, I had that one before. Elaine. Okay, and their parents were .... it took me about six hours to remember Yetta, but I still have no idea what the dad's name was. I want to say Steve, but then I remember that Steve was the dad next-door neighbor when we lived in the apartment, when I was about seven. Okay, so Steve, wife Ruth, son Stanley -- hated him -- and their daughter, my adorable sweet little blonde playmate was ... damn.

Most of our snow is finally gone, but there's another storm coming tomorrow, although not a big one. So they say.

I was aware all day yesterday that it was the anniversary of my father's death, eight years. But when I talked to Katie this morning, she put it in different terms. She said that at one point in the day yesterday, she happened to glance at a calendar and see the date, and she suddenly thought "Oh! I haven't seen Grandpa in eight years!" Even now, I'm choking up; I certainly did when she told me about it. I've been dreaming about him a lot lately, just ordinary dreams. Sometimes he tells me, okay, I can take his car out, or no, I still can't get a dog. I guess I'm dreaming of him when I was teenager. Sometimes I dream about my mother too, but not always the n the same dream.

Speaking of which, I think I'm still dreaming about the high school and/or library every night. (Sometimes my parents are there.) I definitely could use some kind of dream analysis. Anyway, at dinner tonight, the thought hit me for the very first time that maybe I'm ready to go back. For a visit, I mean. Maybe that's what I need to exorcise the whole thing, eh? No idea what I would claim for the excuse for the visit, although my library aide's birthday is next Saturday, so I guess I could drop in Friday morning for a birthday surprise. This whole thing will require some serious thought, or perhaps, some focused dreaming.

The Firsts

As Mary suggested for herself, maybe this will help me get back in the groove a bit:

First Job Other than babysitting, or getting paid a comic book to put stamps on the mail in my father's office on a Saturday morning, my first real paying job was in a fabric store in the business area at the edge of my neighborhood. I think I worked there for most of my junior year of high school, after school two days a week, Friday night, and all day Saturday. I learned a lot because I was into sewing then.

First Favorite Politician I remember watching JFK's inauguration on TV about a week after my 7th birthday. The first politician I had stickers and buttons for was Eugene McCarthy in 1968, and then Hubert Humphrey, same year.

First Car The first car I got to use as my own was the 62 Oldsmobile Super 88. I used it for two or three months until that year's insurance on it ran out, and then my father sold it. It was powder blue, had nice fabric seats, and seatbelts had been installed in it in 1963, so our first car with seatbelts. I could drive six or seven kids home from school in it -- it was my junior year, I think -- including several big, hulking guys. But every so often the car would refuse to start unless my father's hand was on the key. It loved him.

First Record/CD I had two or three kiddie record, including a story of Pinocchio, which I would act out as it played. My first 45 was Running Bear. My first real album was Meet the Beatles, for which my mother had waited on line at the nearby department store all morning and then brought me home as a surprise.

First Sport Played I played kickball -- good at it -- and dodgeball -- not so much -- in school, and then whatever else we did in gym over the years. The only sports I've attempted outside of school were tennis -- very not good at it -- and racquetball. I could play racquetball, but I never won a game, even when my opponent was someone I had taught to play that very day.

First Concert I saw Little Stevie Wonder in Central Park when I was about 12, maybe 13.

First Foreign Country Visited My uncle took us all on a day visit to Tijuana when I was 7. Skeevy is the word that comes to mind. I went to Canada with a camp group when I was 15. I went to Europe when I was 21, landing in Brussels and spending two weeks in England and Wales.

First Favorite TV Show TV was the background of my life as far back as I can remember. My true firsts were The Mickey Mouse Club and Howdy Doody. For a little later on, I'll go with The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

First Favorite Actor In keeping with the previous question, the first "actor" I wanted to grow up and marry was Cubby O'Brien from the Micky Mouse Club. After that, I always had a crush on someone: David McCallum, Paul McCartney ... you know. I think the first actor I appreciated for his work was Spencer Tracy.

First Favorite Actress The first actress whose work impressed me was, not surprisingly, Katherine Hepburn.

First Girlfriend/Boyfriend After Robert Chewsky in secnd grade, I was single until my first kiss, which came from Mark Weiss on our way home from a school trip, so, on a bus. I wasn't with Mark long, because after a month or two, my true crush asked me out. That was Bob; we were a couple for about a year and a half. So he was my first real boyfriend.

First Encounter with a Famous Person I think that when I was a kid and we were in the city for a show or something, my father and grandfather would say hello to any famous people they happened to see walking on the street. The governor of New Jersey once passed our car in his limo on the New Jersey Turnpike, and my father rolled down the window and said hello. When I was in DC on a class project, I spoke to the Speaker of the House (Mike McCormack), and ran into Adam Clayton Powell on the elevator. A few years later, I met Alan Alda buying ties in Bloomingdales.

First Brush with Death They say I was close to death at two weeks old, with a very high fever, and was saved by this new drug that had recently been made available to the general public, penicillin. The first real brush with death that I'm aware of must have been the brain surgery, though.

First House Owned It's the one we still live in. We moved here in November, 1985.

First Film Seen The first one I specifically remember is my father taking me to see Old Yeller. I may have been three or four. Around that same time, my parents let my sister take me to the movies on a Saturday afternoon. I remember seeing, among others, Sink the Bismarck! and Operation Petticoat.

First Favorite Recording Artist The Beatles, man!

First Favorite Radio Station There were two big top 40 stations out of New York City. We first listed to WMGM (Wee Willie and the Morning Show!), which then became, I think, WABC. We (my sister and I) listed to that one forever, until the format changed, which was maybe when I was in college.

First Book I Read I had Little Golden Books, and have recently (I think) told the story of how my father taught me to read with one. The first book I took out of the library was The Five Chinese Brothers.

First Meme I Answered on My Blog Possibly a Friday Five; I did those a lot. But more likely it was something I saw on someone else's site.

How I Spent the Snowpocalypse

So far, retirement turned out to be a good idea because

1. It gave me time to prepare for my kid's wedding,
2. I didn't have to take time off from work to have surgery and recuperate from it, and
3. I don't have to go out in the snow if I don't want to, which generally I don't, and as you probably know, we've had plenty of snow (and probably so have you, wherever you are.)

So there. Between the snow and the sharing a single car with the Hubs, I'm spending quite some time here at home, where I am not yet cleared for -- or interested in -- heavy work, like basement and/or attic cleaning. Here's what I've been doing:

Reading

I just finished a sort of series by Connie Willis about time-traveling historians, and I LOVED it and I was totally caught up in it and driven to finish them all, which I had the time to do because of the above referenced weather from hell (so to speak.)

DVDing

Long story short, I'm converting DVDs that I've recorded from TV back into files that can be read by iTunes, or QuickTime or something so that I can watch movies on the iPad, which has no DVD drive. I probably have 150 or so of these, and I'm maybe 20% done. I do other things while the computer is running the conversion, so it's something I tend to every couple of hours or so.

Baking

Yes, boys and girls, I do know where the oven is. I've been making various kinds of cookies, for one, and bread for another, although that's not necessarily an oven project. I brought the old bread machine up from the basement, where I had carefully wrapped it, all clean, some years ago, and when I unwrapped it, it was basically disgusting, so I figured hey, a hobby is a hobby, and during Saturday's respite from snow I went out and got a new breadmaker. Years back -- 15, 16, 17? -- I was very big into the breadmaker, made at least one loaf a day, and now, I have time to do it again. Yesterday I made Italian bread on the dough cycle and baked it in long loaves in the oven, but otherwise, it bakes in the machine. Although I think tomorrow I will try some pizza dough in the machine.

Crafting?

Okay, not so much into this yet, but I did just get the fabric I want to use to make a quilt for my great-nephew, who will be making his world debut in May. I cannot wait to meet this little guy! His father rode home from the hospital in my arms, when people still did that and carseats for newborns weren't so common.

Lottery

No, I did not win the lottery. But you knew that.

If I Had a Million Dollars

I've got a ticket for tonight's Mega Millions drawing, so naturally, I'm thinking about what I would do with my winnings. The jackpot is something like $51 million, with a cash payout of $32 million. I would certainly take the cash payout, because why would I want the state to hold onto my money and pay me over 20 years? I can't even be certain at this point that the state will be solvent long enough to pay out the pension I earned from them, so I am for sure taking the cash.

$32 million. Half of that, let's say, goes to taxes.

$16 million. Now, if I won, say, $50 thousand in the lottery, I would keep it all and use it. But by prior agreement, a big lottery prize gets split with my sister, right down the middle.

$8 million. At this point, I get some really good money manager who understands how to deal with this magnitude of money. I arrange for $2 million to be put in accounts for each of my kids. (Lucky me, I have two kids. My sister has four to split hers up for.) Leaving me with

$4 million. Dollars. American.

I think if I put aside $1 million into whatever banking mechanism the financial advisor tells us to, that should generate enough income for us to live nicely for the next 20 to 30 years, assuming that we even live that long. Not that I understand finances in any way, shape, or form, but I think that should do it.

$1 million for a new house and whatever goes into it. Maybe toss in some more if we want to put in solar power and all kinds of other green technology. And I would really, really like some way to heat the sidewalks and driveway so that the Hubs never has to shovel snow again as long as he lives. If that technology doesn't exist -- and I'm pretty sure it does -- we'll invent it or figure it out. I really want that. And the new house will also have a well-designed and fenced yard so I can get a DOG.

$2 million left. Or let's even say $1.5 million.

$1 million to give away. I have two local charities in particular in mind, one an excellent children's cancer hospital and the other a soup kitchen/homeless shelter/training center. That leaves

$.5 million. For incidentals. You know, pay off current outstanding stuff, get a couple of new cars, take a trip or two, have a really big party for anyone I've ever known. Hire someone to clean out my basement.

*sigh*

Meme

I think I'll do the meme from The Saturday 9.

1. Where did you grow up? Where do you consider home?
I was born in the Bronx, New York City, and moved to New Jersey when I was two. We lived in a garden apartment complex with about a million other WWII vets and their families. We moved to Fair Lawn, on the west edge of Bergen County, when I was 8, and I've lived here, more or less, since then. It's where I consider home.

2. If you could paint your car any color with no loss in value, what color would it be?
My current car is black, which is actually okay with me. But a red car is nice, or a dark blue. I've always wanted a dark blue car but somehow was never able to get one.

3. What do you think comes after death?
I picture it kind of like the Nexus in the Star Trek Generations movie, where at any given point, you're living some happy memory from your life, with the people you want to be with from that moment. If that's it, then my first moment after death will be walking down the stairs to the den in my parents' house, I'm 8 or 9, and Grandpa is sitting on the yellow sofa, setting up the Meet the Presidents game for us to play. In fact, I think that life after death is just living people remembering you. As long as your memory is alive somewhere, you're living after death.

4. Name a TV show that should NOT be renewed for another season.
I'll go along with The Jersey Shore or Jerseyliscious or any of that crap.

5. If you could have a free subscription to any online service, which would you like to have?
iTunes. Unlimited free iTunes access would be pretty nice.

6. Where did you think you'd be at the age you are now?
Funny question. I don't think I ever pictured where I am now. I pictured where I'd be in 2000 -- age 47 -- and possibly retirement at age 60. But now, retired at 58, I'm in a place I didn't quite envision. Having said that, I would have thought it to be pretty much like it is, but with more money.

7. What did you want to be when you grew up?
I always wanted to be a teacher. It was the only thing I ever considered seriously. During my childhood, I occasionally re-thought what I wanted to teach, and then I landed happily and permanently as a school librarian. I could have been happy teaching English or history as well.

8. If you were to suddenly become famous, and were forced to change names, what would you choose as your stage name?
My nom de plume, selected decades ago, would have been Robin Samuels. Not too flashy, I know. My grandpa's name was Sam Robin.

9. What is the first book that you can remember reading by yourself as a child?
We had no hardcover children's books in our home, other than a hardbound set of Grimm and Andersen's tales, and we had maybe a dozen Little Golden Books. My sister read these to me, and I had them all memorized. In August, 1958, my father sat me on his lap after dinner one night and said that I was a big girl and would be going to school soon and so it was time for me to learn to read. He took my favorite Golden book -- I think it was called Baby's Book, with drawings by Eloise Wilkin (I looked that up; I didn't remember the illustrator) -- and he took his mechanical pencil, which fascinated me, out of his shirt pocket, and showed me how the letters that spelled the word BABY had sounds, and the sounds made the word, etc. Within a few minutes, I was reading the whole book, sounding out the words, solving the mystery. It's the first book I read by myself that I was really reading. The first book I took out of the library, a month or two later, was The Five Chinese Brothers.

Hey

Nothing substantial to report here, just rolling along. Saw the surgeon on Tuesday and that went very well. He said I'm healing on schedule or ahead of, took off the remaining bandages, and said I can eat anything that doesn't make me sick and do anything that isn't painful. So, no crunches yet, but I can start other exercises. My incisions are actually only sensitive to the touch (like when jeans, which I am back to wearing, rub against them), and otherwise I have no pain at all. And of course, the weight that I lost, a big 7 pounds, is starting to come back as I eat more.

I'm considering mall walking. It's not a bad thing in terms of giving my days some structure, and it's good exercise. I have to decide which of the two close malls to use, the smaller one with the skylights (Paramus Park) or the bigger one with more walking distance and a choice of two levels (Garden State Plaza.) I wonder if they both have a Dunkin Donuts, or a Starbucks? And where the bathrooms are? And which one doesn't play its muzak too loud so I can hear what I'm listening to on my earphones. Something to investigate. It may also be time to look into the kettlebell. I have one -- two, in fact -- but I'm not sure if I have a good DVD to go with them. They're supposedly the hot exercise item of the moment, good for everyone and a good workout. Yeah, yeah, we'll see.

I did order my recliner last week, but it's back ordered, so I won't have it for another few weeks. I also got a terrific sleeping bag from Amazon, cotton and very roomy, and oh so cozy to sleep in. And even brown, which is the color of the recliner and essentially of the whole room. And I picked up a floor/reading lamp at Target yesterday that I can stand behind the chair so I'll have a nice, focused reading light while I'm lying in the lap of luxury there.

I've started reading some SF time-traveling novels by Connie Willis, which I'm so far enjoying. So far, I've read about late 21st century historians going back to witness the London Blitz and medieval England during the Plague. An interesting concept, a pleasant writer. Oh, I also just finished A Lesson Before Dying, by Ernest Gaines, a book that's on every high school reading list but I never got to before, and it was excellent.

And that's my story for today. Oh, I had a birthday on Wednesday, which went by very quietly due to the snow that day and not having a car at hand (not that I would have driven frivolously in the snow anyway.) The Hubs persistently gave me a lovely plant, which I immediately relinquished to his care. He says he's going to keep buying me plants until we find one that lives.

Rant Alert

I can't imagine that there is anyone who doesn't think that yesterday's shooting of the Congresswoman in Arizona was appalling, repulsive, and completely the opposite of everything America stands for.

For those who like to cite the Constitution -- I'm one of those -- here's the first amendment:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

We can all see that what the Congresswoman was doing -- what she did most weekends, I've heard -- was peaceably assembling with her constituents, as was her and their Constitutional right. Yes?

Here's the second amendment:

A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

I have never understood why this is so hard to understand, or how on earth it justifies any idiot with a grudge from getting his hands on a gun. In colonial times, everybody did have a gun, mostly because they hunted for their food, and in times of national emergency, these people came together, brought their guns, and defended the country. As part of a well-regulated Militia. So how does this sound?

Let's really tighten up our gun laws so that people who want to hunt or legitimately use guns for recreation (skeet, target shooting, etc.) can still get guns for those purposes, but without creating arsenals. Let's make guns either really expensive, or hard to get, or something. Prohibition of alcohol didn't work, but look how nicely cigarette smokers are being turned into outcasts. That kind of strategy might work with guns, too.

But here's the really important part. Theoretically, we will still need a well-regulated militia. Anyway, I think we do. What's the difference between a militia and the armed forces? I believe that over time, the distinction has come to be that our armed forces are deployed around the world. A militia is deployed here at home. In colonial times, they thought militia before they thought standing army because they were only fighting here at home. Where is our militia now?

You know where they are. Each of our states (I believe) has its own militia, generally known as the National Guard. They serve many functions. If there is a natural disaster, the National Guard is sent in to help citizens in trouble. I remember that during the riots in the 1960s, the New Jersey National Guard was widely deployed in our cities to keep peace. And now, National Guard units from all over this country are deployed in the Gulf. Who is protecting us at home?

So, let us have some nice new laws, and perhaps a new amendment, that makes it illegal to deploy National Guard troops outside the United States. In fact, no Guard troop should be deployed outside its state without the special permission of that state's governor and/or legislature, for example, to assist in a crisis in another state or even in a nearby country. (Each state would have to pass its own rules and legislation for that.)

A well-regulated militia, then, firmly established in each state. The armed forces of the country could still be deployed elsewhere, sent off to war, if Congress so decides. What if there aren't enough of them? Well. Maybe someone will think twice before invading anyone if we don't have enough troops to get it done. More to the point, maybe someone will think twice before invading us if they know we have plenty of troops to defend the home front.

Honest hobbyists should be happy to continue to own guns legally, once the militias are established. The Second Amendment would stand, fulfilled.

What the hell is wrong with that?

(As for that other little detail in the First Amendment, Congress shall make no law ... abridging the freedom of speech, well I may get to that later on today or tomorrow. It deserves its own rant.)

Am I Crazy, Or What?

Perhaps too open-ended a question.

Anyway, I've been sleeping on the couch for the last few years, basically because I sleep better that way. But the couch is shot, and I've been considering what to do about it. I decided to get a recliner to sleep in.

There's a nice one at a good price at JC Penney which I will go and look at and sit on and such on Saturday. If it's good, I'll have it in a couple of weeks.

I have sat in recliners before, short-term, and may have taken a nap in my father's recliner once. (He didn't become a recliner-head until after we were married and out of the house. In fact, it's the first thing he put in my room after I'd left it.) Sleeping all night raises certain questions for me, especially about bedding. How does that work? I don't want to sleep right on the recliner fabric every night -- ew -- and I don't want to be fighting to keep my feet covered. How does this work, all you recliner sleepers out there?

I fell asleep last night pondering the problem, and woke up with this in my head: sleeping bag. So I went downstairs and checked out what we still have. I think we had six or seven at one point, not counting slumber party bags, which is interesting when you consider that even with the cats, there were never more than 6 of us. But R, who was big into hiking and camping at one point, probably had three, depending on the weather and such. I can't explain the others.

Anyway, I found a nice purple one -- bonus -- that was still in the plastic from the last time I had it cleaned. I took it out and it smells fine, not icky, and currently, it's airing out in the bedroom. (I wanted to check it today to see if it needed to be cleaned again.)

So, crazy. Yes, no? Better ideas are welcome. It's the only thing I could think of.

Welcome to 2011

My resolution for the year upcoming is to have none of my internal parts exposed to anything external. I'll go as far as having a mole or two removed, if needed, and I've got a tooth I'd like pulled out, but I'm ending it there. (All that breast reduction I'd been thinking about it out, unless I can get it done without surgery or recuperation, i.e., by magic. Which seems unlikely.)

So now I'm living retirement to the fullest, at least for the next week or so, and staying in the house, lying around on the couch watching TV. But not eating bonbons, or much of anything else yet. My current haute cuisine is cream of rice, with an occasional side of vanilla yogurt or jello pudding. I hope to be up to scrambled eggs by the end of the week, and in fact, I'm taking a trip to the supermarket with the Hubs tomorrow.

My only complaint at this point is that the incisions are sore (of course) and my throat is still sore, but not hellaciously so as it was in the hospital. Otherwise, no pain or discomfort. And the tape marks, the tape marks will never come off my arms and hands. I'm not even considering when they'll come off my belly, probably in a year or two, since I know I'll be reluctant to scrub.

So, I'm coming along. The pathology on this thing, btw, was exactly as anticipated, benign. No worries on that score.

That's that. Just another Saturday night for me.

My Mazel

Just my mazel.

We are under a freaking blizzard warning until 6 pm tomorrow. Which totally wouldn't matter to me in the least, except, of course, that I need to be at the hospital at 8 am for surgery.

Shit. Drek.

I'm hoping that my intrepid husband will get me there, and experience tells me that he will. However, I reserve the right to stress over this until I see that the doctor and his entire team are there, too. Sadly, they cannot really on the Hubs for transportation.

I'll let you know.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

It's Thursday

I cannot possibly get everything I need to get done by Monday done. And yet, I suppose I will. And what doesn't get done doesn't. Que sera, etc.

Tomorrow I will be cooking and/or setting up all day for the evening's Christmas Eve meal, at which we will be joined by R's new in-laws. Folks, I have a weeny little house, but I do have a nice new table and chairs, and a whole mess of Fiesta Ware, so it will be what it is. My daughter the gourmet helped set up the menu, but I am making all of it. Cute, eh? Never mind. It's a very Italian-themed meal, and I think it'll be fun to make. I just have to keep out of my own way.

Christmas itself will be a whole new thing this year. My own ILs are in their new place, it's only 20 minutes away, and none of us are cooking, we'll be eating in a private room at one of the on-site restaurants. We could be home before dark.

Christmas will be over the second we get home, and I will go right into prep for surgery mode. Not only will I be on a liquid diet all day Sunday, I'll be getting things ready for when I get home, like moving my computer to where I'll be lying down, putting crutches nearby in case I need help getting up, getting my pj-type wear where it'll all be convenient for other people to grab it for me, like that. All of my laundry will be done and put away before I leave for the hospital.

I'm not so much nervous about the surgery as I am about the unknown aftermath, diet and strength and so on. Tonight, the Sibs and I are going to test our Skype connection, since she's still housebound with her broken leg for a few weeks. I know Skype's been down, but like everything else, what is is, and I'll see how it goes.

As for me, I'm going to make another cheese sandwich on Wonder Bread, nectar of the freaking gods. I've been eating lately as if each thing I eat is for the last time, which could be. More likely, not for a long time. They told me at the surgeon's office that I won't be able to eat meat for maybe a year. Now, I could care less about steak, so it didn't sound so bad at first. And then I thought: what about a BLT? (On white toast, with swiss cheese and mayo on the side, please.) No bacon? And no sweets, they tell me? What else won't I be able to eat forever?

Ok, sandwich. I probably won't post till after the surgery, but I'll get K to post a "Mom's okay" if I can.

So.

So here's what's new:

My surgery has been moved up to December 27 because the surgeon had a cancellation. That means I can get it done sooner than later, and not on next year's insurance with the deductible all in one chunk in January. Cool. The downside is that this is just over two weeks away (!), in which time I have to Christmas up the house, have Christmas Eve dinner here with R's in-laws, go to my own in-laws' new place on Christmas, then go on a liquid diet for a day, and then there we are. Before I go to the hospital, I want everything set up here so I don't have to have other people move things for me (like my computer) when I get back. I expect that I will be taking the tree down in April or thereabouts.

My sister broke her leg the other day. Actually, I think she broke the same bone in her knee that I broke four years ago, but worse. She's immobilized, and according to her doctor, in bed for four to six weeks. So, her keeping me company during my recuperation is out. As is her making me her boffo rice pudding when I'm up to grainy food. I'm guessing we will actually not see each other for several weeks, being both house-ridden, and even when I can go out, I'm unlikely to make it up her narrow, steep staircase to the second floor right away, and she can't come down. Interesting. I should investigate the whole webcam thing before the surgery, eh? We both have Macs with webcams, so I guess it can be done.

We are all about minimizing Christmas this year, and I think we will continue to do so. Not that we ever do it up big, but this year, almost all gifts are gift-cards and the like; there's practically nothing to wrap, and I'm wrapping what I have in handkerchiefs and scarves, no paper. But the tree will go up, and it will be decorated. I like that a lot. I'm going to put my small tree with the mini-ornaments in the family room this year, too, so I can enjoy that. (Before the surgery, and for a while after, apparently.)

Yet tomorrow at the crack of 7:00 am, I'm hitting a few stores before that get jammed because I have a handful of terrific coupons, and I realized earlier today that all the yoga pants I sleep in have holes and exposed elastic, which will not be so cozy for the recuperation time. I'll see what I can do. It looks like I have enough Kohl's coupons and offers to get what I need and have them pay me.

A Tale of Two ... Three Menorahs

So as it turns out, I have three menorahs. I thought I had two, but when I was looking this morning for the one I wanted to light, I have three.


The one on the left, the brass one, is one that I bought about twenty years ago because I thought it would be nice to have a menorah that I liked, that I picked out, which I had never had before. It's the one I light every year. The one on the right in the picture has a story.

My Grandpa Sam was an Orthodox Jew, but he compromised on a lot of the details over the years because he was poor. If he had to work on Saturday, well then he prayed for forgiveness and he was sure that G-d forgave him. (In the context of my grandfather, I'll use the Jewish convention for putting the name of the Almighty into print.) I was told that when my mother was a child, her mother lit the Sabbath candles on Friday nights, but I never saw her do that, and I never saw my grandparents light a menorah on Chanukah, but I think that was because they always came to visit us on Chanukah and helped light ours. I assume they had one, but since I was never in their home when it came out, who knows?

In 1970, a young man in the Soviet Union petitioned his government for the right to emigrate to Israel, and was turned down. Following that, he refused to accept this decision and was deported to Israel (?) and he later came to New York and staged a hunger strike outside the United Nations to try to get his family released as well. He was the first "refusenik", as these Russian-Jewish would-be emigrants were called; his Russian name was Yaakov Kazakov. He was my grandmother's nephew -- her sister's grandson, actually -- and when he came to New York, he brought this menorah from Israel as a gift to my grandparents.

My grandmother, as she did with any nice things she had, wrapped it up and put it away "for later." She gave it to me, unused, when I got married, and so it was the menorah I had and lit every year until I got the brass one. It's in an Israeli-art style that I never liked, and although I liked the story (and Yaakov, whom I met, and his grandmother Sonia, when she later came to visit from Israel), I just didn't care for this menorah. But my kids loved it, it was our menorah, it came from my grandmother, we HAD to use it every year! So some years, I lit both.

I didn't even remember that I had the little one in front, the third one. I'm guessing it must have belonged to my parents, although it's not the one we lit when I was a kid. That was a cheap tin menorah, with all the candleholders loose, but it was the same shape and format as this one (but not in the Israeli enameled style.) This must have been the menorah my mother wanted, and bought after we grew up.


I have so many boxes of candles because I buy a box every year but I never remember to light the menorah each night for eight nights, so I have extra. This year I'm using the nice beeswax ones on the upper right. I've never used beeswax before. The candles are lit at sunset, the center one first each night, and then that one is used to light the others, one the first night, two the second night, and so on. The candles melt down and burn out in a half hour or so; they're one-use-only.

I found this paper today, too; I didn't realize I had it. Despite her father's Orthodoxy, my mother wasn't raised that way; anyway, girls didn't go to Hebrew school or have Bat Mitzvahs in her day. So when she lit the candles every year, she had to read the prayer, and this is the cheat-sheet she read it from. I'm sure she had this before I was born, and I saw it in her hands -- later in mine -- every Chanukah of my childhood. We have always read aloud the transliterated Hebrew prayer, which is to say, it sounds like Hebrew, but we read it in English, like this:

Bo-ruch atoh a-do-noy, e-lo-he-nu me-lech ho-o-lom ...

Do I still read it when I light the candles? I do. I don't do it because I believe in G-d so much as I do it because I believe in the history and traditions of the people of whom I am one. The English translation appears below the Hebrew on the page:

Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by thy commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Chanukah.

Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who wroughtest miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season.

Hey There, Hi There

Yes, it's me again, in less than a month. I go, girl.

So, I'm in the midst of a scan at the hospital, except I'm home now, having been shot with nuclear dye, and I get to go back in a few hours for the scan, and again tomorrow for a repeat of the scan. Somehow, a lot of red tape got mixed up in this, and I'm pissed off today, which I haven't been for a long, long time. I also can't eat all day until the scan is over. I'm not happy. I am hungry.

The Empress did a book meme yesterday that I'm going to do some of here. First question:

Hardcover or paperback, and why?

Well, well, well. I have no preference, generally, between hc and p. I do have a preference for e. Yes, I've enjoyed the ebooks since they were first available, but now, I'm going to say it's my preference. Here's why. I like that they provide their own light source (the iphone and ipad do), which means I can read in the dark, which I love to do. I like that the font size can be changed to suit the reader. And lately, I've become more aware that really, e is the ecologically sound way to go. The only drawback to the e is that you have to buy them, you can't borrow them easily, so ts expensive. I try to find cheap books, or use discount and such.

The author, alive or dead, that I would love to have lunch with, and why?

First, Shakespeare. I've got a lot of questions for Shakespeare. Next, probably John Steinbeck or Ernest Hemingway, likewise, questions. For a nice, pleasant, funny lunch, however, I'd have to go with Fannie Flagg.

The smell of an old book reminds me of ...

My library, of course. And the bookshelf in the spare bedroom at my Aunt Rose's house when I was a kid.

If I could be the lead character in a book, I would be ...

Jo March, of course, from Little Men. She's the teacher and nurturer I always wanted to be, even, when I first read the book, consciously.

No answer to the favorite quotation question; there are too many to list.

Excuse me, I have to go hydrate now for the scan later. I have to be well-hydrated and empty (it's a stomach scan); they told me to take a laxative the night before, but hey. I have Crohn's Disease, laxatives are my mortal enemy. I'm a walking laxative. (TMI?) I'm not liking these hospital people so much at the moment.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all

Dear god, nearly a month since I last wrote here! Bad, bad girl. Well, everything's done in the kitchen for now, until the turkey comes out, I've showered and dressed, and it's time I tried to catch you guys up a little, assuming anyone is still reading. I still read what you post and I follow on FaceBook, although I rarely write there. For today, I've got some stuff that I don't want to put on FaceBook because I don't want feedback from everyone I ever knew, but I'll get to that.

First, the newlyweds. They're back from two weeks in Hawaii, back at work, settling in, all is well with them. I just love my boy, E. He is as good as gold, as sweet as pie.

My K is happily teaching along, burdened with work and planning and papers to grade, as most teachers are, but especially as all first-year teachers are. Her little baby cat, Otto, is the cutest cat ever, and still very kittenish, running around like a mad man.

My in-laws did indeed sell their house and they moved up closer to us last week. They're about 20 minutes away, so, YAY, no more holidays spent on the Garden State Parkway. Moving was quite a traumatic experience for everyone involved, which I may get back to another time, but they're in, they still have boxes to unpack and always will. The downside of having them close is that apparently they think they can call on their children -- the Hubs' sister is 20 minutes away in the other direction -- for ridiculous little things, like to come over and look through all the boxes for something stupid, like a particular screwdriver that no one needs now, the FIL just wants to know where it is. *sigh*

Next Thanksgiving, we will have a little one at the table -- AT LAST! -- as my Good Guy nephew and his lovely wife are expecting in the spring. Baby Jacob is to be named after my father, who preferred to go by Jack, but Jacob was his actual given name. First baby in the family on both sides, so this little guy probably won't touch ground until he's three. Want to bet his first word is going to be "Down!"?

As for me, in the neverending saga of new doctors to see and rare conditions to have, I have a tumor in my stomach that is "carcinoid" which possibly means "cancer-like" but isn't cancer. (Not too clear on that part.) It's a particular type of cancer tumor that occurs in the stomach but doesn't behave like cancer: it doesn't spread and it doesn't grow. (Although I suppose it grew somehow to what it is now.) The doctors, and there are three in on this case, are adamant this is NOT stomach cancer, although it is a cancer (-like) tumor in my stomach. ? Anyway, I have no symptoms of anything, I feel fine, and I'll be having it removed on January 3, when my surgeon comes back after teaching his technique around the world. I'm having robotic surgery -- another time for more on that -- and a partial gastrectomy, which means they don't so much remove the tumor as they remove the part of the stomach that has the tumor on it. I've been assured that if I don't live to a ripe old age, this won't be the cause; they're getting it out and I'll be fine. So that's that.

However, on Monday, the day before my wonderful Dr. Resnick, clarified all of this, I figured I'd be having traditional surgery (lousy, long recuperation) and it would probably turn out to be cancer, so I got myself a present -- as I do for big life challenges -- and now I'll be fine and all, but I'm keeping the iPad.

Excuse me a moment -- first basting of the turkey.

I've been oddly laid-back about Thanksgiving this year, although I did finally get a farm-raised fresh turkey, as the kids have been asking me to do for years and years. Usually, I have everything we need laid out on the table so it's right at hand, but this year I've been going down to the basement for pots and serving pieces as we need them. This is always a day of continuous dish washing and drying for us, so I just worked that in. (And the drainboard is clear now, as it should be.) We're off to Wonderful Niece's later on, all of us meeting there, since she has the biggest dining room. (She also has doggies for me to play with, although her cats stay in hiding the whole time.)

I still don't have much better wedding pictures, but any that I have are at FaceBook, so if you know me there, you can take a look.

I'll keep in touch.

Settling in

First, this is the only semi-decent picture I have (it's the same one I put on Facebook.)


I can't believe that absolutely no one has sent me any pictures. If I hadn't given my camera to a friend for the ceremony. I wouldn't even have this.

Two quick tidbits today, one also alluded to on Facebook. When I shop, if I see something small that I know one of my daughters would like, I pick it up. Like world flag pushpins for the bulletin boards in K's classroom. A $3 DVD of a movie I know R loves. A cute t-shirt or funny slippers. A candy bar.

I was in Target this morning at 8:02, looking for a few things, and I stopped for a minute to look at the character-shirts in the men's department. At last! A boy to buy stuff for! (One does not gve the Hubs random gifts, or even birthday gifts. It makes him mad. [sigh]) And now someone new to get to know to get stuff for. What candy does he like? Would he wear a Kermit t-shirt? And so on.

(BTW, even though he really is my son-in-law now, I've decided to stop referring to him as the SnL. The pair of them together are now R/E. He alone is /E. In my head, I say this as "and E", and so I could just refer to him as Andy, but that would just be confusing, especially since Andrew is his middle name.)

Second cute moment of the morning. Coming home from Target, I passed the elementary school down the street, and of course, the kids are all in costume today. Every child is accompanied to school by a parent, or multiple adults, today in particular. (We have no busing in Bizarro Town, so every child is expected to walk -- all the schools are within walking distance of the kids who go there -- so most parents accompany them.) Anyway, I couldn't help but notice the looks of confusion and awe on the faces of the Russian grandparents this morning. If these people are in their sixties, they probably don't work in this country, but both grandmas and grandpas provide childcare for their double-income hardworking children. And you can be sure that they saw nothing like Halloween at school in their USSR Cold War childhoods. I saw one man whose face seemed to say that he couldn't decide is this was incredibly cute or incredibly ridiculous.

Nearly ten o'clock, which means more stores are opening and I have more tasks to do. When I wake up at four, I have to wait and do things in the house, but sometimes I need to get something to finish what house thing I have to do. Thanks for Home Depot, which opened at seven this morning!

The Madness Has Ended

It really was a lovely wedding and a great weekend. I'll share more details later, and better pictures, when I get some. (I have nothing good of the bride, at the moment, but I should have some soon.) For now, I have two strips of pictures of me from the photobooth, which was the "favor" at the wedding.

With my eldest nephew, who flew in from San Diego, where he is a musician and general community personality, from what I gather.


and with my baby, K, the maid of honor par excellence:


As for me, what can I say? I am not a troll, but my facial paralysis only ever really shows in pictures, so when I see pictures of myself I always think "Gah! Is that what look like?!" The answer is that actually I don't look like that. In person, moving and alive, I actually look better. Yesterday, I probably looked better than have since my own wedding.