post-raphaelite sisterhood

funky, funky friday

2012-02-10T05:55:00.000-05:00

Wow. Bubbaville has made the national news.

One of the incongruities that hits me, as an outsider in these parts, is the way these life-loving, God-fearing people can be SO FREAKING NASTY. Of course, as today's featured song illustrates, these sorts of vile, violent, and senseless crimes have been going on for probably as long as humans have been around. And I suddenly remember that not so long ago, in my own family up North, there occurred a family murder-suicide worthy of a murder ballad, too.

Wherever and whenever these events take place, the senselessness stuns us, draws us closer to our loved ones, and makes us grateful for each day we have together....

Keeping Abreast of Things

2012-02-04T16:05:00.001-05:00

Squashed Boobs

I have a left boob and a right boob, but unlike Congressional left and right boobs, mine present a united front (particularly when squashed into a sports bra). When it comes to achieving the greater good, my left and right boob team up and get results, neither one taking more or less credit for their accomplishments. Also unlike political boobs, mine know when it's appropriate to keep a low profile, and when it's expedient to stand out and make a statement. There is nothing worse than boobs that get the wrong kind of attention, at the wrong time. Politicians could learn a lot from my boobs.

Tit-for-Tat

This week the Florida Primary featured a prominent display of boobs. Candidate Santorum sagged badly in the polls leading up to the race, and despite claiming the moral high ground, fell flat with only 13% of the votes cast. Gingrich, considered by many to be the biggest boob in the race because of his inflated ego, only came in second place, giving primary winner Romney the media spotlight. Gingrich and his supporters were uplifted, however, when Romney's "I don't care about the very poor" remark popped out during a CNN interview. No wonder the spirits of moderate Republicans are drooping, as it seems no candidate can measure up to their expectations. But any boob should realize that there's no such thing as one-size-fits-all, and lacking a stand-out contender, the Republicans seem likely to come up empty-handed in November's election.

These boobs should sue Komen for infringement.

Media attention snapped momentarily from the presidential race to a matter close to the hearts of many Americans regardless of political affiliation - breast cancer awareness. It was revealed that the Susan D. Komen Foundation, under pressure from an anti-abortion group, unhooked its backing for Planned Parenthood, a major provider of health services to low income women. This is not the first time Komen's tactics have raised eyebrows -- the group has also made headlines for seeking financial restitution against lesser-endowed advocacy groups who adopt Komen's "for the cure" tag in their own fundraising drives. Mixing politics and women's health issues leaves a bad taste in the mouths of those who've lost loved ones to breast cancer, so many considered it a victory when Komen later announced a reversal of its decision. Still others are glad that Komen's questionable financial and policy tactics were exposed, and hope to nip partisan quibbling over the issue in the bud. (Boobs are people, my friends!)

I'm sure there were lots of other boobs in the news this week, but for now I think I've milked this topic for all I can.

Weinerdog Wednesday, Crank it Up edition

2012-02-01T06:09:00.001-05:00

One of the delights seen during my last trip to Boston in August -- a hurdy-gurdy player with his weinerdog! It was like having my cake and eating it and having a weinerdog and hurdy-gurdy player to share it with!

monday meh

2012-01-30T20:20:00.000-05:00

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
-- Langston Hughes, "Dreams"

Photo snapped at a local antique shop; don't worry, gentle readers - the bird is not real.

Weinerdog Wednesday, Auld Lang Dog edition

2012-01-25T19:02:00.001-05:00

This braw lad is kilted up, hoping a wee bit o' haggis finds its way to his doggie bowl on this Burns Night.

Scottish poet Robert Burns was born on January 25, 1759. His songs and poems celebrated the Scottish countryside, romantic ideals, equality, and the rights of the common man. Some of his verse is remarkably relevant today, such as these lines from "Ode on General Washington's Birthday" --

Here's freedom to them that would read!
Here's freedom to them that would write!
There's nane ever feared that the truth should be heard
But they wham the truth would indite!

Funky Friday, Farewell to 2011 Edition

2011-12-30T23:13:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the end of a calendar year finds me wistfully wondering where the time has gone, bemoaning the lack of accomplishments under my belt, and getting all introspective about missed opportunities and such. But frankly, I'm glad to see 2011 go, even if it means the Mayan Apocalypse is fast upon us. (Just please don't let me spend the last day of all time sitting in the customer lounge at the Volvo dealership while my suspension is getting repaired, ok?)

It's not that 2011 was a total wash. I had the opportunity to become more intimately acquainted with various local health care establishments, and lived to tell about it. Career-wise, I held the hands of 42 more summer institute participants as they immersed themselves in the latest research in our field - and in the New River. My travels took me to both coasts, and even to central Virginia where my new friends Billy and Apple live, along with their human. (So far, Billy's the only one I'll let sit on my lap, but that may change in 2012.)

Nevertheless, and in spite of all the things that could have but didn't go wrong in 2011, I'm more than ready to move on. And I don't necessarily believe that 2012 will be all bright and shiny and full of good fortune (I've learned that the best way to avoid being disappointed is to have very low expectations). Maybe I just like the idea that after midnight Saturday, I will have an entire year to get done all the things I put off doing this year. And that makes me feel rather optimistic. Almost giddy, even.

Here's wishing you an adequate New Year.

'Twas the Post Before Xmas...

2011-12-24T08:36:00.000-05:00

Merry holidays to all my blogging friends -- may your days be festive and funky, and your chocolate chip cookies be chunky. Mmmmm....

The intelli home is decked in lights and tinsel. Cookies are baked, stockings await stuffing, and intellikid and I still haven't had time to watch that Mr. Bean episode that means Christmas is truly here. I'm slow in getting the holiday spirit this year, maybe because I've been so frikkin' busy. Or maybe I'm in denial that another year has managed to zoom by....

Meanwhile, those presents aren't gonna wrap themselves.

Peace, joy, and love to you and yours!!!

Weinerdog Wednesday, Chanukah Edition

2011-12-21T08:44:00.000-05:00

As Andy Borowitz says, let's celebrate this most American of holidays, when we celebrate burning oil we don't have.

Happy Chanukah, y'all.

I still can barely stand it...but...

2011-11-19T14:27:00.000-05:00

Ok, so it's probably, definitely, bad form to bash a job that let me fly to San Diego for a conference last week and allowed me to finagle a weekend visit with my cousin who lives in Santa Monica. Still, the fact that my co-workers and I haven't had so much as a cost-of-living increase in the past 3 or 4 years, combined with the gradual paring away of benefits, makes me feel somewhat justified in taking a tiny bit of advantage of the so-called perks the job entails. And it wasn't all sunshine and beaches, ya know....

This is the view from my hotel balcony at the conference. The serene beauty of the Mission Bay marina at sunset, however, belies the harsh reality that at 4am an amorous and/or hungry sea lion barked just outside my hotel room.

The architecture geek in me was not disappointed with SoCal's iconic Art Deco and Spanish edifices. One night my group dined al fresco just across from the Gaslamp Theatre in downtown San Diego. A young woman played cello on the sidewalk, and the passers-by were entertaining, too.

I didn't have the foresight to arrive in San Diego a day early to enjoy some sightseeing, and it was already dark when my train for LA departed at 5:55pm last Friday evening. Aware that stunning coastal scenery was zipping by just outside my window, I consoled myself with overpriced beverages from the club car. It would have been cool if the trains were of the same vintage as the stations, but then it would've taken longer to make the trip....

My cousin works for the Getty, and has curated an exhibit in the LA Public Library downtown. The photo of the lobby and chandelier don't do justice to the fabulousity of this space, so use your imaginations.

"The Mexican Revolution Revealed" shows photography from the Revolution and civil war, and ends with some images that have been, er, adapted for more recent purposes.

Hard to believe I was having breakfast on the beach last Sunday. This establishment had some unorthodox staff busing the tables, but at least they didn't hover over our shoulders waiting for us to finish.

This designer chicken coop is at the site of a non-profit organization that teaches horsemanship to at -risk teenage girls. Then again, as my cuz said, "all teenage girls are at-risk." We spent the afternoon at their open house.

I always miss the mountains when I travel to East Coast cities. That wasn't so much of a problem out west, even if the peaks weren't as high or green as those in my backyard at home.

I wasn't prepared to like SoCal as much as I did. Even if I can't find a conference to go to out that way again, I may just have to return for a vacation one of these days. Whenever I have time for a vacation, that is.

Funky Friday, DIY edition

2011-11-04T05:38:00.001-04:00

Hey kids -- I'm afraid you're going to have to funk yourselves for the month of November. I am a way too busy wench, what with taking two classes, working at a job I can barely stand, parenting my mother, and preparing to hit the road for a conference on the left coast next week. I have December 6, my last day of class, circled and highlighted and glittered on all my calendars...it's just the stuff between now and then that's not so shiny.

I wouldn't want to leave ya'll without some guidance in the funk-it-yourself department, however, so I've put together a little playlist of some ditties I like. There's one for each Friday in November, plus one. Shuffle, fast forward, whatever you like.

I'll be around...just even less than I have been.

monday meh, where is everybody? edition

2011-10-31T09:35:00.000-04:00

This is weird. It's after 9:30 a.m. and nobody else is in the office yet. Not even any zombies.....

Funky Friday, ZOMBIES

2011-10-28T06:44:00.000-04:00

It's the time of the season for zombies -- and these guys are still touring! -- maybe they really are Zombies....

My Friday is off to a funky start indeed. The road between Bubbaville, where I live, and Collegetown, where I work, is closed due to two separate icky wrecks -- one involving a liquid nitrogen spill (someone erroneously reported a "nitrous oxide spill" on facebook -- tee hee!) and the other a diesel fuel spill. I think it's a good day to work from home....

Weinerdog Wednesday, Halloweener edition

2011-10-26T05:48:00.000-04:00

Scooter Pie was looking quite devilish in this picture circa 2005. Happily, in the ensuing years she has not killed us in our sleep.

Funky Friday - Octubafest Continues!

2011-10-21T06:25:00.000-04:00

Y'all can ease into the weekend with some smooth tuba jazz . . .

I love big brass!

Weinerdog Wednesday, O Diese Dakel! edition

2011-10-19T06:09:00.000-04:00

What would Octoberfest be without some Bier und Wurst? German artist and illustrator August Roeseler (1866-1934) captures dachshunds (Dakel) in the pursuit of these treats.

(via Read, Seen, Heard)

Monday Meh

2011-10-17T06:12:00.000-04:00

I guess this would be the opposite of pandamonium.

It was a fabulous weekend in Bubbaville and environs -- now I have a case of the Monday Mehs . . . especially when I look ahead to Wednesday's (snowy?) forecast.

Fnuky Friday: Fnugg (Celebrating Octubafest)

2011-10-14T08:27:00.002-04:00

He had me at the double tonguing.... Øystein Baadsvik performing "Fnugg" (which is a Norwegian word for something so small as to be almost invisible).

Monday Meh, Breaking Up Ain't So Hard Edition

2011-10-10T05:45:00.001-04:00

Via Lotta Agaton

Not Friday, Not Funky - Listen Anyway!

2011-10-08T08:13:00.000-04:00

(Via WataugaWatch)

The young musician who wrote and performs this song is a former student from the University where I work - pretty cool. It's also pretty cool to see so many younger people involved in the "Occupy" movements -- certainly none of the political parties seem to be invested in seeing that this upcoming generation has a level playing field to start their lives on. Or at least a field that isn't planted with ideological fodder that's corporate-sanctioned, genetically-modified, and barely digestible to those of us who can still think for ourselves. There is still some educating to be done, though, when too often it seems that half of the students on campus are willing to let themselves be walking billboards for the corporations that are, in one way or another, part of the problem.

Weinerdog Wednesday: Octubafest Edition

2011-10-05T06:04:00.000-04:00

This isn't the wurst weinerdog photo I've ever seen....

(Via The Long and Short of it All)

Funky Friday, R.I.P. Summer edition

2011-09-30T06:08:00.000-04:00

That Stanley is such a show-off!

R.I.P. Summer -- they are even forecasting snow flurries -- SNOW FLURRIES!! -- for the mountain tops this weekend. W.T.F.?

Weinerdog Wednesday, Wagging the Dog edition

2011-09-28T06:55:00.000-04:00

In my search for artistic depictions of weinerdogs for this weekly feature, I learned about Ammo the Dachshund, who is a dog artist of a different breed. If you follow the links to Ammo's store, you can purchase works by the dog himself, as well as works by the Painting Ponies.

With the critters' original artwork priced at $60 and up, I'm thinking Scooter Pie, with her long, fluffy coat, would make a mighty fine paintbrush....

Monday Meh, After the Party edition

2011-09-26T05:47:00.001-04:00

We end the month with another critter stuck in a tree:

A homeowner in southern Sweden got a shock when he found a drunken elk stuck in his neighbour's apple tree. (Note: Europeans call moose elk. I don't know what they call elk.)

The animal was apparently on the hunt for fermenting apples when she lost her balance and became trapped in the tree.

Per Johansson, from Saro near Gothenburg, found the elk making a roaring noise in the garden next door.

He called the emergency services, who helped him free the boozed-up beast by sawing off branches. She spent the night recovering in the garden.

The next day she took herself off into the woods with her hangover.

It is not unusual to see elk, or moose as they are known in North America, drunk in Sweden during autumn, when there are plenty of apples about.

Other residents of Saro had seen the elk on the loose in the preceding days.

Mr Johansson said the elk appeared to be sick, drunk, or "half-stupid", the Associated Press reported.

(Original article appeared HERE)

Funky Friday

2011-09-23T06:29:00.000-04:00

I forgot to tell y'all -- on my way back from Boston last month, I picked up my daddy's bass fiddle, which a cousin in PA had been keeping in storage. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the thing -- a friend who plays bass is going to tell me if the bass needs any work. If it is deemed playable without any immediate investment of cash for repairs, I'm thinking of taking lessons for something to do this winter. Not that I'll ever hope to sound like these guys....

Weinerdog Wednesday

2011-09-21T06:32:00.000-04:00

I guess PETA wasn't around to protest the use of this unwitting weinerdog to promote a biography of Gypsy Rose Lee. I also wouldn't have thought that it would only take one dachshund to cover Gypsy's assets....

Monday Meh

2011-09-19T08:17:00.000-04:00

Feeling kinda stuck...

Funky Friday, Do You Remember? Edition

2011-09-16T06:17:00.002-04:00

I remember.

Weinerdog Wednesday, Put On Your Party Hat Edition

2011-09-14T06:12:00.000-04:00

That's right - it's party time this week. Scooter Pie's 12th birthday is on Friday. In lieu of gifts, Scooter Pie is thinking of those doggies less fortunate than she, and asks that you donate to your local animal shelter. Remember that two-legged critters aren't the only ones feeling the pinch from these hard times.

Monday Meh, metaphorical edition

2011-09-12T05:34:00.000-04:00

Figurative headaches, while no less irritating than their corporeal counterparts, have fewer viable treatment options.

2011-09-11T07:26:00.000-04:00

Black Square by Kazemir Malevich

Today deserves a day of silence.
Anybody who has profited from the events of ten years ago should be ashamed.
Any innocent life lost in the ensuing wars should be remembered.

Peace, my friends.

Funky/Funny Friday, Don't Lose That Number edition

2011-09-09T06:32:00.008-04:00

About two and a half weeks ago I got the following text message:

Hey baby its ricky

this my nanny phone

it cost for me to

text i love you

please text back its

been so long
Nanny

I thought how lucky "baby" must be to have such a suave - and thrifty - suitor as "ricky" and disregarded the message, briefly wondering if this "ricky" was the same person who was trying to get me to accept his call from the Washington County Prison a few weeks earlier...

The next morning when I woke up there was a voicemail from ricky -- he loved and missed me and implored me to call back. Hoping to nip this in the bud, I texted back, "You have the wrong number."

A few ricky-less days followed, but...as intellikid and I were driving Bostonward, ricky called again. Intellikid answered and tried telling ricky, "Dude, you have the wrong number." After listening to ricky's protests for a while, she hung up on him. He called back again. And again. Finally, against my "no talking while driving policy," I answered and told ricky myself that I didn't know him, he had the wrong number, and he needed to stop calling. The young man insisted that he had been texting this number for two months and wouldn't admit to any error on his part -- even though it was obvious to all but ricky that he must have transposed numbers from his "cost me to text" phone to his "nanny phone." Possibly under the influence of some intoxicant, ricky became belligerent...so I hung up. And after ignoring the ringing phone for several minutes more, I had to turn it off for the duration of that day's driving.

That evening I turned the phone back on, and listened to ricky's final angry voicemail promising/threatening to come by my house when he got back to Tennessee. Something to look forward to! Presumably, either Nanny took her phone back and/or ricky figured out his error, because all has been quiet the past two weeks.

Hold on....someone's at the door....

Wienerdog Wednesday, Because I Asked for It edition

2011-09-07T06:33:00.000-04:00

Today's wienerdog is a jadedj original. Since jj lives in a place that is probably even more boring than Bubbaville, he has time to do artsy things for his blogging buddies. I hope that one day he'll be able to upgrade to one of those big-screen monitors, however, so that he doesn't have to do all his artwork in pieces.

Thanks, jj!

Monday Meh, Where's My Pool? edition

2011-09-05T09:46:00.001-04:00

Meh. I'm spending the holiday doing laundry and sorting through the week's mail - and your blog posts. (Note to readers: Do not tailgate a hurricane when you go on vacation.)

All in all, all is well. I didn't have a very organized itinerary for my trip North - and back - the consequences of which were some scrambling for hotel accommodations a couple nights as refugees from Irene sought rooms with running water and working lights while they awaited restoration of their own utilities.

Enroute back from Boston, I stopped at Old Sturbridge Village because I like old buildings and history, and I had a coupon for $3 off admission. Ironically, the electricity and plumbing was working just fine at this recreation of a 19th-century New England community. Also ironic to be reminded that "Long before the revolution, most New England towns were required to tax themselves to provide tuition-free schools for children," while today vast numbers of citizens hold dear their right to be ignorant.

I guess if the populace can't spell freedom, they won't know when it's gone.

Funky Friday, What Did You Expect? Edition

2011-08-26T06:31:00.003-04:00

Yep. I had to do it.

...and goodnight to my dear readers. Tomorrow is a travel day as intellikid and I head Boston-ward once again. I'll be back after Labor Day. Or Labour Day, for my Canadian friends.

UPDATE: I decided not to drive into a tropical storm, so plan to spend another day in Bubbaville. I hope everyone in Irene's path is safe!

Wienerdog Wednesday, Monday Meh Edition

2011-08-24T05:55:00.000-04:00

Knocking out two days with one post. From this site.

All in the same boat

2011-08-21T20:43:00.009-04:00

"Women and children first" has gained a warped new meaning as congress snips and snipes away at the country's spending. And as much as I've been ignoring the media lately, I've not been able to ignore a certain gnawing unease, the feeling that all isn't right with the world, and it's only going to get worse.

The university where I work is holding RIF (Reduction in Force) information sessions as a lead up to what we are told are inevitable layoffs. While I've been assured that my own job is secure (oh, good), things don't look great for those who will be unemployed. (You can bet it isn't going to be any of the six-figure salaried coaches getting laid off, either.)

I sit back and wonder how I - and all those others whose wages have stagnated, if not disappeared entirely - will continue to afford buying gas and groceries as prices go higher. I worry about my self-employed friends and family whose livelihoods depend on regular folks having the disposable income to purchase the products and services they offer. I nudge my daughter to at least minor in a field where she'll acquire marketable skills and not just a diploma to hang on the wall when she finishes college in 2 years.(Especially if she wants that wall to be in Boston and not back here in Bubba County.)

Meanwhile I do catch sound bites wherein presidential aspirants affirm that they are going to do everything they can possibly do to see that more money keeps flowing to those poor deserving corporation-persons. They want us to believe that we the people owe it to the billionaires to see that their standard of living is preserved. Politicians, and a disturbing number of otherwise sane folks, tell them and us that's also the way to create jobs, revive the economy, and maybe even create a slice of heaven on earth, at least here in America.

"Bale" Out Scheme

And I have to remind myself to breathe . . .

But then I read Maggie's recent entry in Flying the Coop , and my whatever-it-is was suddenly put into words. Although Maggie is writing from (and most often about) the idyllic Tuscan countryside, she articulates the malaise I feel here in Appalachia. We seem to share a tentative yet tenacious hold on the good life as we know and define it, in regions geographically disparate yet equally beautiful, looking off to the distant other side of this mess the world is in.

"...[E]verywhere we go people are communicating their fear about where our world is heading. I mean, really, everyone is talking about this: in the butchers, the fruit and vegetable shop, the farmers and retirees on the streets of our village, in the towns and cities, at the dinners I recently spoke of and at Gianni' s house almost daily. We are all talking about the fragile state of the global economy, the dangerous state of global warming, and the pitiful state of government," Maggie writes. She also talks about "common sense" -- common in that it is something widely held -- and shares an e-mail that expresses what I struggle to bring to the forefront of my own consciousness: We can do something about this, and not let them paralyze us in fear of what's to come. We can insist that our elected representatives stop being corporate whores and instead legislate for the many, not the few.

The e-mail Maggie quotes goes so far as to propose a "Congressional Reform Act of 2011," which, realistically we cannot expect to be acted upon because, well, it would take an act of Congress. But I do acknowledge the need for more of us to get involved, to have our voices heard, and to expose the posers who try to come off as one of us during daytime campaign stumps while bedding down with their moneyed puppetmasters every night.

Regardless of what you believe, we are all in the same boat. And it's a big enough boat that it won't matter if there are more of us on the left or the right -- that won't make a difference in whether we sink or not. What matters, it seems, is all of us paying close attention to where we're heading...

Funky Friday, Fur Hat Edition

2011-08-19T06:50:00.000-04:00

Hey, gang -- here's a little something for my drummer friends. It's Ginger Baker's birthday today. Just look at how young and, er, young they all looked back in '68.

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-08-17T06:26:00.000-04:00

Dachshund collage by Peter Clark, via Izzy Loves...

This nifty piece of wienerdog art inspires me to fetch my scissors and those old magazines that haven't made their way to the recycle bin yet, and try my own hand at collage. I don't expect the results to be as spectacular as Peter Clark's, but I do expect it might be quite therapeutic.

Monday Meh

2011-08-15T06:47:00.001-04:00

After a long night of debauchery, emobear only wanted to go home and sleep it off. But where was home?

UPDATE: OK, I can now properly attribute the photo to Baltimore, MD photographer Patrick Joust

Grammy Joins the 21st Century

2011-08-14T20:44:00.001-04:00

Our mother has stubbornly resisted all of my & my sister's attempts at encouraging her to become more active in the community. Knowing that social isolation is a prime contributor to depression among our elders (don't tell her I called her the e-word!), I decided to buy Mom a new notebook computer when out doing intellikid's back-to-school shopping the other week, in hopes that having a virtual connection to her friends and family would make moot any insecurities that her mobility issues and hearing difficulties present when navigating real-world interactions.

Mom has a 20-year-old Compaq PC that is fine for playing solitaire, composing irate letters to her insurance company, and creating greeting cards - but configuring it to work with our high-speed internet was out of the question. Now I'm learning that configuring my Mom to work with the internet is more daunting than I first thought, too! I didn't take into consideration that when I'd tell mom to "right-click" she would move her hands to the keyboard to type (write) the word "click."

We got all that straightened out now, and after e-mail 101 was finished, Mom sent off two brief messages to friends of hers. She also saved a photo from an e-mail to her pictures folder, and perhaps most remarkable of all, neither one of us swore during the entire lesson!

It'll take some time to explore all these new communication possibilities together, but I'm really looking forward to the day when Mom can have a video "conference" with baby Madison, her new great-granddaughter, who's now some 600 miles away in Orlando.

I'm not looking forward to the day when Mom discovers where the Fox News web site is, though....*sigh*

Funky Friday, Something a Little Different Edition

2011-08-12T07:19:00.000-04:00

Wish the quality was a little bit better on this one, but being an afficionado of the Hammond B3 (it's my favorite organ, next to the pancreas), I had to share.

Summertime is still in full swing here in Bubba County and environs. Taking the day off today, and intellikid and I are going to see if any blackberries around Bass Lake have survived the heat - and the other blackberry-lovers.

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-08-10T06:14:00.000-04:00

"Hogs" - a 1964 Roto News Service pic - Via The Long and Short of it All

I read somewhere that dachshunds are the only dog breed known to eat itself to death. Maybe it just takes a while for the "full" signal to travel all the way from stomach to brain in these critters. Scooter Pie certainly doesn't give her kibble a chance to get stale in the bowl!

Monday Meh, Party Like It's 1929 Edition

2011-08-08T06:39:00.002-04:00

Dorothea Lange: Daughter of Tennessee Coal Miner Living in American River Camp Near Sacramento, CA

Potato Salad Three Ways

2011-08-07T17:41:00.002-04:00


Red Potatoes with Garlic Scapes in Chinese Bowl by Judith Lamb

I don't own a grill, so my dinner table has seemed bereft of summer-type foods this season. To remedy the situation without investing in an outdoor cooking device that would only end up getting stolen, I decided to make potato salad, a quintessential summer dish if ever there was one.

I was going to make Russian potato salad today, to go along with the ribeyes I bought yesterday at the Farmer’s Market. I learned about Russian potato salad from a former co-worker, Tanya, who was from Georgia (not the one on Ray Charles' mind) and made the most delicious potato salad with fresh green peas, minced onion, diced carrots and lots of dill mixed in. It was so much better than “American" potato salad, I added it to my culinary repertoire. But my daughter doesn’t like mayonnaise, and the Bubbaville Food Lion doesn’t sell my preferred substitute -- fat-free sour cream -- (since losing 30 pounds earlier this year I didn't want to use the full-fat sour cream --and besides, I might need those calories for a margarita later), so I made French potato salad instead.

This is the potato salad I grew up eating. My father -- a Paris-born Norwegian with a disdain for the sort of culinary horrors that were foisted upon the American public during the 1960s -- would make "French" potato salad. For years that was the ur-potato salad as far as I was concerned. Creamy redskin potatoes tossed with a vinagery-garlicky dresssing and sprinkled with parsley -- I would have happily skipped hotdogs and corn-on-the-cob and all the other cookout standards if I could fill my plate with Daddy's potato salad.

I remember the first time I prepared what I thought was a faithful interpretation of my dad's recipe and served it to him, anticipating great praise. As it turned out, I actually had to solicit my father's feedback, and was told that I didn't get it quite right. At least I think that's what he actually said, but I heard, "it's not good enough," and so years went by before I attempted to make potato salad again.

Today's effort is good enough, in spite of not adhering 100% faithfully to the recipe I remember Dad using. And damn the olive oil in the dressing, I'm going to have that margarita, too! I have a lot of summering to catch up on....

(Oh, the third tao of the potato salad is my step-father's mother's version, a Pennsylvania Dutch interpretation with a hot, spicy, mustard-y dressing. I don't think it would pair well with my margarita, but maybe next week, with a beer and something sausage-y....)

French Potato Salad

- Boil 2 pounds redskin or other "waxy" potatoes, unpeeled, until just fork-tender. Drain.

- When cool enough to handle, skin the potatoes and slice. Place in large bowl.

- Whisk together:

1/4 cup olive oil

3 Tbs. wine vinegar

1 Tbs. Dijon mustard

1 tsp. salt

fresh ground black pepper

1-2 cloves minced garlic

(Dip a potato slice in the dressing and taste, adjusting seasonings as necessary.)

- Pour dressing over warm potatoes. Toss with 2 Tbs. chopped parsley. Serve room temperature or chilled, but try not to eat your share right away!

Funky Friday, FAA Edition

2011-08-05T06:55:00.000-04:00

A bit of nostalgia, for today marks 30 years since Ronnie RayGun fired 11,000 striking air traffic controllers. That ol' bastard and his cronies dumped a lot of crap that's still sticking to our shoes today.

Sometimes I miss the '70s.

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-08-03T06:34:00.000-04:00

Canadian artist David King renders the dachshund form in abstract.

Monday Meh

2011-08-01T06:42:00.000-04:00

Who would've guessed that even a Roy Lichstenstein painting gets annoying phone calls?

Stick a fork in me....

2011-07-30T12:23:00.000-04:00

I'm done!

Done with the cat-herding, teeth-gnashing, nail-biting, head-banging, bum-kissing phase of my job that consumes 4-5 weeks of my life each summer. It doesn't matter how many years I've done this previously, there will inevitably be some new challenge that tests my patience, diplomacy skills, endurance, and creativity. I didn't entertain any hope that this summer would be any different, therefore I was not disappointed.

One of the activities that traditionally appears on the institute calendar is a canoe trip. I've been able to ~~weasel out of~~ cancel this activity twice, claiming that drought would make the trip more of a hike than a boat ride. This year, however, the rain gods have blessed our corner of the Appalachians (sorry, Texas!) and so it would take an active thunderstorm or utter lack of interest to be able to credibly call off the outing. Strike three...and 16 of us are caravaning to an outfitter on the headwaters of the New River for a relaxing afternoon.

Or not.

My first mistake was in offering the participants a menu of activities to choose from. I personally didn't want to do the 6-mile canoe trip, which involves a portage around a low bridge. My still-hurting knee would not be happy with lugging a 100 pound boat up and back down a muddy river bank. Floating in an innertube, however, sounded delightful.

At the river bank, everyone was excited to get on the water and get some relief from the afternoon sun. Everyone except Ann, that is. Ann stepped out of the van and stood motionless, staring at the stretch of river in front of us. Regardless of the fact that this far upriver, the New basically looks like this:

...Ann thought it looked like this:

Despite my assurances that the river wasn't more than knee-deep most places, Ann was sure the raging 3mph current would sweep her away (even though she claimed that she could have qualified to be a lifeguard in college). I knew Ann was one of the more senior members of the group, but she was in good shape, and even my limited experience with the river gave me the confidence that she could handle a float downriver. I mean, if you think you're going to fast, just stand up and walk to shore!

Once I assured Ann that she would be able to touch bottom at any point in the trip, and that I would be happy (I lied) to take an abbreviated, one-hour float with her, she decided to give it a try. Hearing that a one-hour tube trip was now an option, Linda wanted to join us, too. Linda is around my age, but that is about all we have in common. An African American from Houston, Linda declared that she needed to quit thinking she could be a nature girl. She was game for a float down the river, but would not leave her "Highland Hiking Stick," purchased the day before at the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games, behind in the van. And why was Ann still in her jeans...?

Thankfully Ann had worn a bathing suit under her clothes - but she kept her socks, sneakers, hoodie, and visor on for the ride upriver. She kept them on after slathering herself with sunscreen, too. And, thus attired, she stepped into the river once the three of us had finished our lunch.

Holding on to the brush along the riverbank, Ann hesitantly sat on the edge of her innertube and exclaimed that this wasn't so bad. I got in the river next, then Linda, walking stick in one hand, tube in the other, puzzled how to settle herself into the innertube while retaining a smidgeon of dignity. I helped her get settled in, and the three of us were off for a bit of fun.

Well, two of us were off. As Linda floated to the middle of the river (a creek, really, in my opinion) and I followed, Ann was inching her way along the shore, pulling herself along branch by branch, afraid to sit back in the innertube and let the river do the work. I stood up, pulling my tube over to Ann and said, "Look, you can stand here. You'll be fine if you let go!" I'm not sure which concerned me more, the fact that Linda, who confessed to not being that great a swimmer, was drifting further downriver, or the fact that Ann's style of "tubing" would turn the one hour trip into a half-day ordeal, or the likelihood that she might find a snake or two in the brush as she proceeded hand-over-hand down the river.

I convinced Ann to let go of the trees and hold on to my innertube instead...and we soon caught up with Linda and her stick, and more or less relaxed for the next hour or so as the current carried us. It dawned on me that I'd been responsible for taking these two women way outside their comfort zones, and I'd also be responsible for seeing that their fragile confidence wasn't shattered by anything more devastating than a bit of sunburn or a mosquito bite or two. It was hard work seeing to it that they had a relaxing float down the New.

At several times we were passed by canoers, and I imagined that we must have made quite a sight. But the three of us laughed, shared stores, and had so much fun -- so what if it looked as though we'd escaped from a group home somewhere upriver?

I may not have had the relaxing afternoon I'd hoped for, but for the next few days, whenever Ann excitedly talked about how much fun she had, and Linda triumphantly said she knew she'd be okay even when she (somehow) flipped her tube over (in hip-high water), I felt that I paid a small price for giving those two women the confidence to challenge themselves.

I'm determined to get my lazy float down the river one of these afternoons, though. But this time I'm only taking intellikid along!

The Circle of Strife

2011-07-24T09:05:00.000-04:00

I crossed the finish line, but I still have one lap to go. Friday I sent my institute participants home. I will have adventures to share with you soon enough. Today, however, is the start of a week-long "mini" institute. Let's hope I only have mini headaches to deal with!

At last, some good news!

2011-07-09T08:46:00.000-04:00

Thanks to my niece, the family has gained a new member -- welcome news in light of the losses we've suffered this year.

Happy to have you on board, baby Madison!

Post No. 222

2011-07-03T08:55:00.000-04:00

Wherein the author posts her annual rant (see here and here) about the trials and tribulations of a program director charged with the happiness and well-being of several dozen adults who spend a month attending the professional development institute she manages. As different and diverse as every group of attendees is, they bring the same irritations with them year after year. You're staying in a university residence hall, folks, not the Marriott. Not even the La Quinta, for that matter. What do you expect in the way of amenities? Didn't the FAQ page, the blog, the email and the letter we sent all recommend that you should bring your own clothes hangers? Oh, and you were provided with information regarding transportation arrangements back in January, so why are you surprised that, because you chose to fly stand-by, there is no smiling university motorpool driver to greet you when you arrive at the airport a day late?

I am no better at exercising patience when asked the same question a gazillion times, and my attempt at using humor to de-fuse the stress a colleague was feeling backfired terribly the other day. And I have an awful feeling that the worst is yet to come . . . .

Now, Where Was I . . .?

2011-06-05T13:14:00.001-04:00

I wasn't raptured. And I wasn't around to notice the alleged Blogger quirkiness some have reported. I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco, nor my brain in Boston (although I may have dropped my motivation somewhere along I-81 in Virginia). I haven't been contemplating a run for public office. No, I guess the only explanation/excuse I have for not posting lately is that I'm sitting in a big ol' pile of meh and it's just too much trouble to dig myself out of it.

The unseasonably hot weather isn't helping any. Being a pale Nordic type, I am disinclined to engage in anything more strenuous than holding open the pages of a good book once the temperatures rise above 80. So at least I've been doing a fair bit of reading (Art Life Chooks, The Tao of Pooh (again), The Lost Continent...)

Another part of the problem is feeling overwhelmed by the number of un-checked-off tasks on my to-do list. (But hey, at least I got the Christmas decorations put away before Easter!) But I've been working on this, choosing to believe that focusing on one task at a time will yield greater success than trying to do it all at once. Of course this means prioritizing those tasks...

Maybe a simplified "To Do" list is the answer:

Funky Friday, Pre-Rapture Edition

2011-05-20T06:23:00.003-04:00

I decided not to worry about getting back on my diet just yet -- not that I expect to be Raptured or anything, but I know the owner of my favorite bakery is a pretty devout Christian, and I would like one more cinnamon roll, just in case...

Wienerdog Wednesday, Welcome Home Edition

2011-05-18T06:47:00.005-04:00

Scooter Pie at ~~the kennel~~ doggy camp.

It's good to be home, although it means returning to work tomorrow. The Road Trip Without a Name went well, high cost of gasoline aside. I survived the first difficult leg of the trip: 400+ miles in the car with my mother, 3 mostly sleepless nights on The World's Most Uncomfortable Couch, and even avoided eating my way through Central Market, although a peanut butter whoopie pie did find its way into my basket somehow.

Boston was good, too -- reunited with intellikid Thursday evening, she treated me to a belated birthday dinner and then, since my knee was behaving, we walked around Brookline's Coolidge Corner neighborhood. If money and job and karma ever so dictate it, I'd move there instantly! In the meantime, I've got 2 more years of daughter dear's college career to make bi-annual pilgrimages to Beantown and environs.

M isn't just for "Meh"

2011-05-08T07:07:00.004-04:00

Happy Mother's Day

Alas, no breakfast in bed for me this Mother's Day -- intellikid is busily preparing for finals (I hope), while I prepare to pack for the trip Bostonward to retrieve her. Last year at this time I was wrapping up the Magical Mystery Midlife Tour, a solo sojourn that was celebratory in nature. This trip, my mother will accompany me as far as Pennsylvania, where she'll have some time to spend with family there, and likely make a sad final visit to her sister Lois's house, where Mom spent every summer for the past 6 years. I hope there will be moments of celebration for her, too.

If you've been following along here for a while, you already know that I share a house with my mother, and of course intellikid still parks here during school breaks. The 3 generation household (plus one dog) has suited us fairly well, although there have been minor power struggles between my mother and I, who differ ideologically on many matters. For some time, though, I've been working on honing that unconditional love thing, trying to be more accepting of the differences that in the end don't really matter. It's a good thing, too, because I think I'll need all the self-control and inner strength I can muster to keep sane while spending the day in the car with Mom tomorrow.

I hope I have 6 hours' worth of Vivaldi, Mozart, Bach, and Chopin ...

I said, enough already....

2011-05-03T21:07:00.003-04:00

RIP Grandpa.
95 years young.

Hope, Redux

2011-05-03T06:07:00.005-04:00

I wasn't sure if intellikid would be a participant in the revelry that broke out on many college campuses early Monday morning following the news of Osama Bin Laden's capture. But there she is, along with several thousand other students from BU and other schools, taking to the streets of Boston in a . . . what? What was it they were taking part in, exactly? Another BU student explains:

We have been given reasons to be cynical, and the rally represented a brief departure from that. We were not celebrating the death of an enemy. We were celebrating because, ten years later, after a childhood spent being told that our futures looked bleak, we have something to celebrate about.

Monday Meh, Enough Already Edition

2011-05-02T06:25:00.004-04:00

May Basket, by Andrew Wyeth

In light of the late night news yesterday, maybe a Surrealist painting would have been more appropriate this morning...

Any celebratory impulse has been tempered by the loss my family experienced - a dear Aunt, my mother's eldest sister, passed away Sunday morning. This is the aunt whose son died of cancer earlier this year. I believe that she put her own needs on hold while dealing with my cousin's illness, and it was just too late when she finally sought attention for the ills that had been troubling her.

Her death is going to leave a huge hole in my mother's life -- the two of them talked on the phone at least once a day, and my mother would spend several months each summer at Lois's place in Pennsylvania. I had been planning to make the time to visit when intellikid and I drive through on our way back from Boston in a couple weeks...damn.

I know that I would be inconsolable if anything happened to my sister, so I'm keeping within hugging distance of my mom.

Funky Friday, Metaphorically Meteorological Edition

2011-04-29T05:42:00.001-04:00

We had some heavy weather here in Bubba County Wednesday night. No sooner had I fallen asleep, just after midnight, when that line of storms that kicked ass in Alabama meandered up through East Tennessee and Southwest Virginia, giving my house a good shaking along the way but fortunately doing no nearby damage except downing some already dead tree limbs and decorating the neighbor's yard with trash can lids from all around the block. It was pretty scary nonetheless. The real destruction took place a few miles west of me, where a tornado touched down and rearranged not just folks' furniture, but their whole houses. And their lives. This small community is mourning the loss of two residents, and who knows what else.

My heart goes out to all who have been dealt a blow by the relentless Spring weather this year. Let's hope we can catch our breath before....hurricane season arrives!

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-04-27T06:15:00.000-04:00

Via Weimar:Art and Modernity
Dynamism of a Dog on a Leash, by Giacomo Balla (1912)

Monday Meh, by Munch

2011-04-25T06:53:00.001-04:00

Norwegian painter Edvard Munch is surely the master of meh.

Looking Inward

2011-04-23T20:15:00.001-04:00

First things first: my wonky knee seems to have decided that, as long as I treat it with respect and lots of TLC, it just might behave. Fortunately, the orthopedist I met with this week agrees. Since I've been mostly pain-free for the past several days and can now pretty much walk any distance so long as I've got the time to get there, I'm willing to pursue self-care and alternative therapies. Hence the illustration: I'm visualizing a healthy, happy knee joint. If I can see it, it will BE!

My intuition tells me that treatment should also include oral administration of several ounces of vinum rufus daily. (Since overdosing can adversely affect balance, I do need to exercise caution!) (Oh, and I need to cautiously exercise.) It goes without saying that I'm happy the S(urgery) -word wasn't recommendation number one. I understand that rehabbing a knee is not an overnight accomplishment, but I'd just as soon skip the cutting and scraping and 20% co-payment if letting time heal yields the same result, anyway.

While various medical practitioners have been peering into the innermost workings of my left knee, I've been also been looking inward -- and backward. A family friend, the man who introduced my parents to each other, has been going through his massive photograph collection and sending me pictures from the past thirty years or so. Ron was the self-designated documentarian of every social gathering he attended, and even if his ever-present camera was sometimes mildly intrusive, I am really touched that he has saved all his photos and is sharing them with the subjects now. His latest batch to me included a photo of my pregnant-with-intellikid self and TMFKAH*, which I could have done without adding to my collection, but the rest of the pics are priceless. (* = The Man Formerly Known As Husband)

Because my father is a subject in many of the shots, and because his death occurred around this time some seven years ago, I've been prone to bouts of melancholy this week. Why now, after all these years, does it feel like I need some sort of closure, and how the heck do I go about getting that? Maybe it's the sudden flood of photos and memories bringing it on, this feeling of not having done enough while I had the chance. Yet I know that my father was an adult, made his own choices with a more or less lucid mind. Still, I am angry that one of those choices was to let his phone bill go unpaid and cut off the one means of communication my sister and I, living 400 miles away, had. I'm also angry that his friends and brothers who lived nearer to him didn't intervene when they saw the hoarding getting out of hand and the house literally falling apart around him.

Last but not least, I'm unsure of what role I might have played in my father's decline. He and I weren't especially close, but we hadn't had any fallings-out, either. I suppose I should have seen his addictions as a symptom of something larger, rather than as an extended mid-life crisis; then again, what could I have done differently?

Deep down, I know the answer is, "Probably, nothing." My father was a notorious marcher to his own drummer, and of course his individualism is one of the traits I loved about him. I guess that Ron's photos and memories that accompany them are just making me realize that I still miss my dad, and of course that's an okay thing. Even if I wasn't expecting it.

"Harald with kitten in pocket, 8/30/79"

(This is weird - I just realized that I'm older now than my dad was in this photo.)

Funky (Good) Friday

2011-04-22T07:18:00.002-04:00

...and Happy Earth Day, too!

I've not been in a very bloggy mood lately, but I'll get over it. Meanwhile, I've got a 3-day weekend to begin squandering.

Wienerdog Wednesday, Rich and Famous Edition

2011-04-13T09:24:00.003-04:00

A young Elizabeth Taylor, possibly on the set of National Velvet, taking a break with her wienerdog buddy.

The question on everyone's mind by now must be, "What famous person has not owned a dachshund?"

Monday Meh, Limited Visibility Edition

2011-04-11T07:07:00.002-04:00

Tree in Fog

While searching for an image to convey the foggy conditions here this morning, I discovered the work of North Carolina artist Jerry Lee Kirk. The fog is definitely causing vision problems for me. I can't see myself going to work today. I'd rather stay home and look at art on the Web.

Funky Friday, Globalize Yourself Edition

2011-04-08T06:39:00.002-04:00

An "Acoustic Africa" concert is happening on campus this evening; African guitarists Habib Koité (in the video above), Oliver Mtukudzi and Afel Bocoum will no doubt have me tappin' my toes.

I think that from now on, we should require that all of our politicians be musicians as well. Then we would be reasonably assured that soulless bastards would be ineligible for office, and our representatives would already be acquainted with the concept of playing well with others.

But if they went on tour, I still probably wouldn't buy the T-shirt.

What the flock?

2011-04-07T06:30:00.005-04:00

C'mon over to Hen's Teeth, where the chicks are clucking over matters taxing. My alter-ego, Layla Eggers, weighs in on the deductibility -- or not -- of family pets.

Last one there's a rotten poultry progeny!

Wienerdog Wednesday, Pre-Raphaelite Edition

2011-04-06T07:14:00.004-04:00

Via Dog ArtDog, Laura Sotka reinterprets the work of Frederic Leighton.

(A similar scene, single dachshund version, can be found at the intelli home on Sunday afternoons.)

Funky Friday, It Happened One April edition

2011-04-01T06:43:00.001-04:00

I think I've got the US Blues, too. There's probably no approved treatment for that covered under my health insurance, though.

I did get word today, however, that I finally have an appointment for an MRI on my knee. At 6pm Saturday. Not sure if it's worth shaving my legs for -- what do you think?

Wienerdog Wednesday, How do you take yours? edition

2011-03-30T06:58:00.002-04:00

I have no idea what assignment the Life photographer was on when he/she snapped this photo of a leggy lass grinding coffee beans while being supervised by a dachshund. I'm definitely going to be a coffee hound today, though...and I take mine black, please.

Monday Meh. Meh.

2011-03-28T07:10:00.002-04:00

I wish.

Funky Friday, don't-believe-everything-you-read edition

2011-03-25T06:52:00.002-04:00

Decades ago, I figured out that as long as I didn't believe in hell, I didn't have to worry about going there. I've had a much better quality of life as a result.

Of course I realize that just because I don't believe it, it ain't necessarily so ... but I'm okay with being surprised later.

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-03-23T07:02:00.005-04:00

Dachshund Jedi warrior by artist Brian Rubenacker.
See more of his fun canine creations HERE.

mondah meh, all things being equinox edition

2011-03-21T07:02:00.003-04:00

Sad Spring, Wilhelm Lachnit

Spring, as only a German in 1933 could see it.

Funky Friday, Yesterday & Tomorrow Edition

2011-03-18T06:28:00.002-04:00

In observance of Thursday's St. Patrick's Day and Saturday's "Mega Moon" I wanted to post a video of Irish singer Van Morrison performing "Moondance." As iconic as this is however, video pickings on YouTube are very slim.

I was happy to find THIS very cool but un-embeddable video of an all-star jam of the song where Morrison is backed by Carlos Santana, George Benson, Dr. John, Tom Scott, and Etta-freakin James. Go watch it now, then come back and thank me. Go on.

So, what do you think: Is the Mega Moon going to wreak havoc across the planet? Will you go outside after dark and howl? Can I just have one more Moondance with you?

Wienerdog Wednesday, 15 minutes edition

2011-03-16T07:38:00.003-04:00

What is it about wienerdogs that has inspired another great 20th century artist to give them their 15 minutes of fame? As far as being a muse goes, my own Scooter Pie provokes impatience, not inspiration. Oh, well...

My religion

2011-03-15T07:04:00.003-04:00

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

--- Wendell Berry

(I stumbled across this poem and it really resonated with me. The photo is of intellikid at Roan Mountain Bald, around 10 years ago.)

Monday Meh

2011-03-14T14:27:00.002-04:00

Adventures in Health Care

2011-03-13T09:09:00.000-04:00

The future is now. At least the scary-socialized-medicine-the-pundits-warned-you-about future is already here. Or so it seems from my recent adventures in health care.

Call me a freak (it's ok, I've been called worse), but I've been fairly lucky, and fairly healthy for the past decade. Unless there is organ failure or bleeding from a major artery, I tend to take a less-is-more approach when treating any physical maladies I experience. No doubt this behavior was something I adopted during the years 1999-2006, when I was also without health insurance. Anyway, as a result of my relative good health, I don't have a "Primary Care Physician" but instead visit the nurse practitioners at the local one-stop medical center when suffering from something that Ibuprofen, rest, and the judicious consumption of whiskey won't cure.

When my knee recently decided to go rogue, however, I decided it was probably best to go shopping for a physician. I had run out of good knees. And I had turned 50. Probably time to let someone have a look under the hood, so to speak. After all, I have employer-paid health insurance now! Better use it or, the way budgets are being pruned these days, they might decide I don't "need" it! Anyway, finding a physician in Bubba County who would accept a new patient within the week - or the month - wasn't going to happen, but I was able to get an appointment with the nurse practitioner.

I arrived in plenty of time for my 1:30 appointment and took a seat among the dozen or so others waiting. I was thankful for the free flu shot I'd received, and hoped there were still antibodies swimming around my bloodstream from that upper-respiratory "thing" I had in February to protect me from the, er, mucousity of my fellow patients-in-waiting. I wished I had brought a book to pass the time -- there was no way I was touching any of the reading matter there! Instead, I memorized the fliers posted on the receptionist's window and practiced some slow breathing so as not to inhale too much of the unsavory ambience.

At about ten past 3 - that's no typo, folks - it was finally my turn to be seen. Various measurements were taken, my knees were poked & pushed, and it was determined that an MRI should be had to determine the extent of the damage. I was told that the my insurance company's approval was required and I would get a call when said approval was obtained (or not). Meanwhile, with continued self-care, my knee continued to feel and work better, but I don't feel I can "trust" it to do what I need it to do, consistently and reliably. It is my hope that I will get sent to a brawny physical therapist so I can properly and expeditiously rehabilitate this wayward joint, and hopefully avoid future injury, too. But first, they need to know what the heck is wrong with my knee.

At my follow-up appointment two days ago, the obviously overworked nurse pulled out my chart and found the insurance company's denial form. The MRI was not approved, they said, because there was no diagnosis code on the request. The nurse scanned the forms and said that yes, there was a diagnosis code, and they would resubmit the request. That makes a ten day wait - plus however much longer I'll have to wait while the forms are resubmitted and re-scrutinized. It's enough to make a person sick!

But after all, I am one of the "lucky" ones - my mostly sedentary job also permits me to work from home on occasion, and in addition to health insurance, I have paid sick leave. If it was the dead of winter and if I wasn't tired of spending so much quality time with the couch and "House" reruns on hulu, I'd say let 'em take their time. Still, I hope I never have to "test" the system while suffering from anything more serious. And I'm going to look for a physician in the town where I work, in NC, in hopes that someone there will accept a new patient sometime before I'm eligible for Medicare.

I've just learned, though, that if I do need to be hospitalized, at least at the same facility (not in Bubba County, TN but in Charlotte, NC) where my boss recently had surgery, I will be asked to bring my own towels and washcloths. I guess nobody told that facility that kind of thing only happens in Cuba, or so say opponents of health-care reform.

The health of our health care system is enough to make you sick. Just make sure you get pre-approved.

Funky Friday, fill-in-the-blank edition

2011-03-11T07:44:00.003-05:00

The funkitude is upon me this morning. Overnight I had two very intensely disturbing dreams, one of which I'm pretty sure I woke up screaming from. Or trying to scream - I hope I never feel that terrified and helpless in real life, needing to shout but no intelligible sound coming out.

I had a similar experience when I was still with T.M.F.K.A.H., but rather than help me out of the nightmare by waking me up, the bastard watched and waited, thinking my tossing and turning and moaning meant I was enjoying a fantasy lover's attentions, and he was hoping I'd name names. After I woke up and told him I dreamed that there was a homicidal intruder in the house, and I was trying desperately to escape, he wasn't the least bit sympathetic. Bastard.

But back to this morning: awake from the second weird dream at 4-something, I turned the radio on, hoping the lull of voices would help me get back to sleep. Instead I heard about the horrific quake and tsunami in Japan. I feel sad for the people there, and humbled by the power of Mother Earth. Maybe it is a bit hubristic to think that humans can destroy theplanet. While we are certainly capable of the deed, nature often seems much more efficient.

Speaking of nature, it's snowing again! But likely not enough to interfere with my trip to the airport later on. The bright spot in my day will come at 9pm, when intellikid's flight from Boston is due to land. Hugs will ensue.

Wienerdog Wednesday, Urban Edition

2011-03-09T06:35:00.000-05:00

The good thing about being a wienerdog on wheels is that you don't have that far to fall when perfecting your mad skilz, yo.

Monday Meh, What-happened-to-Spring Edition

2011-03-07T07:09:00.000-05:00

Egret on a Snowy Branch, by Koson Ohara.

A Sunday afternoon snowstorm coated Nor'east Tennyssee in a cruel reminder that spring is still 2 weeks away. I really don't mind these late season storms, as they're usually short-lived. However, I'm a bit leery of taking my still-mending knee out in the snow. Still, I can hardly tell anymore that my knee was out of joint, and I hope to be ready to kick ass again in no time.

(By the way, not everything about Monday is Meh: My alter-ego, Layla Eggers, has been invited by the chicks over at Hen's Teeth to contribute - c'mon over and have look at my her take on the topic of sitting. You, too, Mr.C.)

Pas Mardi Gras, C'est Vendredi Funky

2011-03-04T08:06:00.005-05:00

I've never been to New Orleans, but I know it's not pronounced like it's spelled.

Wienerdog Wednesday, Working Dog Edition

2011-03-02T17:05:00.005-05:00

Via The Long and Short of It All: Wienerdogs take to the streets in 1972 in support of Bellefonte, PA teachers' strike.

Scooter Pie urges all canines and their humans to support education!

monday meh, leg up edition

2011-02-28T08:10:00.003-05:00

Back from DC
With a wonky knee:
Woe is me!

On the road again...

2011-02-21T22:49:00.002-05:00

It's conference time again -- leaving at early-thirty tomorrow a.m. enroute to Washington D.C.

Got any messages for me to deliver to our fearless leaders?

When you see a fork in the road, take it.

2011-02-19T09:39:00.003-05:00

Thank goodness blogs don't require regular feeding/watering/exercise, or this little site of mine would be flickering dimly away to nothing. On Monday I was - or thought I was - all ready to scribble out a week's worth of witty posts, but then I got the sad news of a cousin's passing, and took a little perspective break for the rest of the week. You could say I've sort of had to pull over to the side of the information superhighway here, stop for a while, and look at just where the heck I'm headed, literally and philosophically. (But don't give me a GPS to tell me where to go - I want to map out my own route, and pretend I know where I'm going ahead of time!)

Sometimes I feel like I'm navigating one of those notorious roundabouts they have in New England, where a moment's indecision or uncertainty results in a missed turn and damns me to drive around again to get it right. If I'm lucky, I only need to go around a second time to get headed where I want - or need - to go. I get annoyed at myself for screwing up, but as long as I have enough gas and plenty of time to reach my destination, driving in circles and taking the scenic route is really no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

As time goes on, though, it seems more important to get things right, to not take any wrong turns enroute to doing and being what I have to do and be. My cousin's cancers manifested themselves suddenly, and he became so ill, so quickly, it was shocking. Until a few months ago there wasn't any reason to think he didn't have time to take his time getting wherever it was he was going. Isn't that what we all believe?

Leaving work yesterday, I heard someone singing that gawdawful Garth Brooks song, "If Tomorrow Never Comes," and in spite of my dislike for that kind of schmalz, I thought maybe the cosmos decided to put the song on my playlist to remind me that any one of us, at any time, could run out of tomorrows. I am beginning to feel a sense of urgency, not to cross things off my ever-growing To Do list, but to make sure that I have prioritized it, to make sure I do the important things. Yet while I struggle to keep friendships and relationships in good working order, I have to get my taxes done, pack for a conference, write a paper, and yes, even schedule a long-overdue physical for my own self, even though the thought that something more malignant than my hatred for Fox News could be manifesting itself makes me hyperventilate....

Not that I feel bad, mind you. Except for having "If Tomorrow Never Comes" stuck in my head now, I think I'm probably doing just fine. And if this post has put that tune in your heads now, I do sincerely apologize, and offer this antidote:

Now go blow your nose and tell someone you love them.
XOX,
wench

monday meh, ignoring the date edition

2011-02-14T06:16:00.000-05:00

Seriously.

First Funky Friday in February

2011-02-04T06:44:00.002-05:00

The week started with a hellacious respiratory inflection, and ends with a visit to the Dr.:

I felt almost well enough to drag my carcass to campus yesterday, and so I did. Coughed and sniffled my way through my class last evening, too. The kindly professor gave me a special assignment, and told me to go home and drink some Jack Daniels.

I didn't have any Jack, but since my prof has written a play about Grace O'Malley, I'm pretty sure she'll accept Tullamore Dew as an alternate assignment. Just to play it safe, though, I'm going to complete some extra credit tonight...

Slàinte!

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-02-02T06:51:00.001-05:00

Didn't know that Pablo Picasso was owned by a wienerdog, did you?

monday meh, mehta edition

2011-01-31T06:26:00.001-05:00

Some kind of crud has caught up with me, and I wish I could just stay in behd. Bronchitis, maybe. Alas, I have two meetings today, and a new graduate assistant starting. Maybe after a scorching cup of tea I'll feel a bit better...

I also don't have much stomach for current events.

Funky Friday, Sloopy Saturday...

2011-01-28T06:41:00.000-05:00

It's Friday.
It's the last Friday of the month.
As a certain 'nother blogger might say, "'Nuf said."

Wienerdog Wednesday, Renaissance edition

2011-01-26T06:47:00.005-05:00

Vitruvian Wienerdog from Terry Pond:

"The proportions of the Dachshund figure seem mathematically implausible, with an incongruously long torso region and short arms and legs. Surprisingly fine-boned and even graceful shins, while the haunch is rounded and even meaty (seen more in some specimens than others). A fifth appendage, the "tail" often moves of its own accord.

Travel on all four legs is preferred mode of locomotion as subject has a tendency to topple whilst walking upright. In males parts seems perilously low for travel up stairs and other inclines, especially in particularly portly specimens.

The elongated face of the Dachshund ends in a wet, leathery snout, which is often engaged in inquisitive activity, while the tongue is companionaly close at hand, also wet but not as leathery.

Eyes are deeply expressive and effective at communication, which is fortunate as assorted yaps, barks and whines would otherwise indicate rather primitive language skills."

monday meh

2011-01-24T06:25:00.000-05:00

Animeh.

Is it still January?

Funky Friday, better late than never edition

2011-01-21T19:01:00.003-05:00

Some songs are timeless, and bring back memories of good times & places.
Some fashions ... not so much.

Happy weekend!

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-01-19T06:28:00.001-05:00

Great slide show from the Life archives. It seems clear now that early experience living with dachsuhunds gave Marlon Brando the inspiration for his Godfather role -- because who can refuse a wienerdog?

2011-01-17T18:55:00.013-05:00

Even though the weather here returned to "seasonably yech" after a relatively warm & sunny weekend, even though intellikid has gone back to Boston, even though the economy continues to suck and the political climate is still crazier than my great-aunt Helen, I'm determined not to get in a January funk.

And I'm determined to eventually have something of interest to write about in this space.

In the meantime, I've got homework to do.

monday meh, countdown edition

2011-01-17T09:56:00.001-05:00

"only" 62 days of winter left...

Funky Friday

2011-01-14T06:27:00.002-05:00

I got mine workin' ... how 'bout you?

Wienerdog Wednesday

2011-01-12T06:07:00.000-05:00

By artist Rachel Caldwell
(via Recovering Lazyholic)

This explains so much... and yes, you had to be there.