Better Things for the One Million Moms To Think About or They're Just Schweddy Balls, Baby!

So, for the past few days I've been laughing at the Schweddy Balls Ice Cream that Ben & Jerry's came out with.  Every time I think about it, or hear someone else talking and laughing about it or read about it, I laugh.  It's funny.  And the skit on SNL that birthed it is funny.  Good on ya, Ben & Jerry for having the balls, er, guts to have fun with this.

Then I read about the One Million Moms and their call for a boycott of Schweddy Balls.  In their words, Ben & Jerry introduced a  "...vulgar new flavor has  (that) turned something as innocent as ice cream into something repulsive. Not exactly what you want a child asking for at the supermarket."

Oh, boo hoo (and don't even get me started on their issue with Hubby Hubby flavor).  Seriously, this is what you spend your precious time on?  This is what you want to rally your the power of One Million Moms about? What a waste.  There are so many more important things that you could be doing, gettiing press about, creating solutions for.  And I'm not saying that these are mutually exclusive--I'm saying that there are many, many more issues that deserve your time and attention.  So many in fact that you could multi-task your little brains out and still not get to all of them.

So, because I hate to see such a waste of resources, I'm going to share a few ideas I came up with on my 10-minute drive home from work.

1.  Visit, clean up and put flowers on the 4,683 plus graves of the men and women that have given their lives in our current war(s).

2.  Collaborate on a solution for our horrifyingly broken Child Protective Services and Foster Care system.
(You know, according to NCMEC there is an estimated 800,000 kids that are reported missing each year and children missing from care fall into three groups; those who run away, those who are abducted and those whose whereabouts are unknown.)

3.  Give blood. (The Red Cross needs 1/2 a million blood donations in August/September to meet patient demands.)

4.  Work with local and federal governments to put a stop to the human trafficking of young boys and girls for the international sex trade.(Worldwide, it is estimated that somewhere between 700,000 and four million women, children and men are trafficked each year, and no region is unaffected and an estimated 14,500 to 17,500 women and children are trafficked into this country each year.)

5.  Talk to your children about why Schweddy Balls is so funny and then why you don't think it was a good idea.  Get their opinion on it.  It's called teaching your child "critical thinking" skills.

6.  Spend a few minutes thinking about some other mom's son, Troy Davis, and the issues with the death penalty in this country.

7.  Start and staff a voter registration drive with the goal of getting all eligible Americans ready and able to vote according to each states rules.

8.  Work with Skype to make their "Skype in the Classroom" vision of  a million connected classrooms a reality.

9.  Gather a million of anything (mosquito netting, childrens books, pennies) and do something with them.

10.  Go to http://www.avaaz.org/ and find one or two, or heck, maybe even three issues that your One Million Moms can make a real difference on.  A difference that makes a real impact on people's lives.

11. Go to http://www.kickstarter.com/ and help someone or a group of someones realize a dream.

I left myself a voicemail on the way home telling myself these 11 ideas for this post so I wouldn't forget them. Literally it was 10 minutes.  Which means that anyone else can spend 15 minutes and come up with 16 better ideas.

But it's not really about the ideas is it?  No, it's not.  It's about the fact that you have built an amazing resource and in this country you do have the freedom to do anything with that resource.  All I'm asking is that you think about the responsibility that comes with that freedom and be better than worrying about something as silly as Schweddy Balls.

Purposeful Writing: Mine and Others

I took an unintended break from writing this summer.  I thought it was because I have having a 'word' issue.  I was writing a lot for work.  I had started writing a lot on two book projects of my own.  And I was reading a lot of other people's words--books, articles, news stories, blogs, tweets, status updates...you name it, I was inhaling it.  And somewhere in all of this, it felt like I lost 'my voice'.  I sat down to write, but it all felt a bit strange. So I just stopped, thinking that the urge would return soon enough.

"Soon enough" turned into about 5 months.  I was getting an itch to write again, but not the usual obsessional pull towards the computer.  So I wandered around the book store and the internet and found that a favorite writer of mine, Kristin Cashore of Graceling fame, had a post on writer's block just last week. Three things I liked about her post.  First, she brought Philip Pullman into the discussion and I love his anti-precious attitude about it, especially when she quotes him as saying, "Plumbers don't get plumber's block...." which is both true and false (from a literal interpretation of their job) and made me giggle.  Anyway, so Mr. Pullman doesn't believe it exists.  Ms. Cashore breaks her thinking about it into two areas of feeling:  The whiny cop-out of the, "I don't wanna" feeling and harder to admit, yet more honest, "I literally just can't" feeling.  I definitely, after putting my own experience up against her definitions, fell into the "I literally just can't" camp. 

I, it turns out, needed a break.  Not because I was tired of writing. Just the opposite, actually. I loved the writing, but in retrospect, I believe I was tired of writing without Purpose.  Not in the little scheme of things--I had something to say every time I put fingers to keys.  But in the bigger scheme of things I needed to ask myself, "What is the gestalt or the collective take away from all of this?"  

Funnily enough, this is a question I ask myself everyday in terms of what I write at work, but I had yet to apply that same framework to my own personal work.  This really came clear to me after I fell into editor Dennis Cooper's Little House on the Bowery series.  These books are a complete left turn from what I usually read and yet I find I'm hooked mostly because I find that there is a larger theme or purpose behind all of them.  Matthew Stokoe focuses on the theme of following and failing the American Dream in his writing.  Cautionary tales to be sure, both Cows and his earlier High Life are both powerful statements about what drives us to want more and very hard reads. They are gritty and exhausting with a spare, almost throw-away brutality to them.  But they make you think, even though the more dainty of you might actually want to throw up here or there.  In Derek McCormack you find another dark author, but this is a funny, wry and surprisingly clever writer who looks at aspects of our culture through a vastly alternative lens--and, he wrote vampires before vampires were cool .  In both The Show that Smells and The Haunted Hillbilly Derek gives us an unvarnished, under the glitter look at Hank Williams, Coco Chanel and others.  

Now, obviously story tellers entertaining us while also creating consistent arguments about a culture or an idea/ideal is nothing new, it's just that these books were there for me when I was searching for an answer to a question I didn't know I had.  So I'm a bit indebted to them.

In terms of my own purpose when it comes to my writing, I'm dancing around an answer. I've got something that feels true and interesting, but I'm just rolling it around in the back of my head, testing it out so to speak.  So we'll see how it works itself out as I continue to write it all down and put it all out there.

I thought 1 was a lonely number but 11 is painful OR A Parental Dilemma

My tiny baby boy turned 11 recently.  And it's been like a light switch has been thrown for him---he's been in his room more, out riding his bike more, less communicative more often, more teen-like in some of his mumbled "asides"--and in his not-so-mumbled ones.  I'm missing him and his innate sweetness more.  Now it could be I'm just imagining all of this, but I'm not, he's pulled a way a bit and it is hurting.


So I am reveling in the current situation....he lost another tooth and, as he told me last night, he has been waiting patiently for the Tooth Fairy to arrive.  Feeling bad that we hadn't had the tooth fairy scheduled, I reminded my husband to take care of it while Max was at school.  His reply?


"HE'S ELEVEN!"  Meaning, I guess, that Lowell believes he's too old for this type of thing.  Bah Humbug! I say.  If my son still believes in the Tooth Fairy, I want to support that believe in the magic of childhood.

Lowell then explains that my son is probably just angling for some cold, hard cash...and that, and I'm directly quoting him here,  "I think he should pay us back for the perfectly good tooth we bio-engineered for him which he had the gall to wear-out!"

Which brings me to my current dilemma--this would be funny.  Actually very funny and my son would totally fall for it, which means a lot of fun for my husband and I while our kids sit there trying to figure out if we are pulling their leg or not.  We could spin this out for a good hour or so over dinner.  Good fun.  Good times.

But I have to weigh this against the possibility that if he were to get $1 from the Tooth Fairy he'd revert to the sweet, cuddly boy of yesteryear.  

Arghhh!  Why is parenting so hard?  Do I go for the definitely funny or the possible cuddle?  

Hell, there really was never a true choice...the definitely funny is going to win out every time in this family.  Besides, I can get a cuddle when he's not paying attention, or sleeping, or in front of his friends, which will achieve both!  OMG--that's the ticket.

In honor of International Womens Day or 10 Things Every Girl Should Know

Most of the time I don't know what to make of days like these, where we are supposed to honor a group of people or things...except for Veteran's Day...I get that one.  I don't get International Waffle Day or stuff like that.  I did find that there is an International Mens Day as well and that it was started in Trinidad and Tobago in 1991.


FYI:  International Womens Day was started in 1911 so this year is a Global Centenary. Each country has a different theme and in fact different organizations within that country can have different themes which I find confusing and if I were King (err, Queen) for a day, I would change that.  Anyway, if you are interested, the United Nations global theme for International Womens Day is:  "Equal access to education, training and science and technology:  Pathway to decent work for women."  


In celebration, there are over 1000 activities across the world.  England is host to 464 events, the US to 246.   And China?  Just 1. Which is amazing considering Iraq is hosting at least 3. But I digress.


I think the reason I have such an issue with days like these is that they seem too big, too vague...I don't know where to look or what to do or how to help.  So, I'm going to focus where I can, on those closest to me and the ones closest to them.  So here goes, please forgive the rhyming at the beginning, I couldn't help myself.


10 (+1) Things Every Girl Should Know
Yes, thank Heaven for little girls.
...for those I know and love and for those I don't.
...for those I will know someday and those I won't.
...for how you grow, for how you change
...for thinking, but almost rarely commenting, that Mommy is strange.
...but most of all for really listening when I say these things:

1. I love you
2. There is nothing you can do or say that will change the fact that I love you.
3. Do the right thing, not the easy thing.
4. Be confident in who you are.
5. Never be afraid to have a voice.
6. Never let anyone else, including me, force you into a decision you are uncomfortable with. (see #4)
7. Love and own yourself, your body, your hair, your nose, your butt, your breasts, your thighs and your decisions about each of those.
8. Be loyal and loving to your friends and family, but never blind.
9. Be safe, do safe, act safe
10. Always know that me, my ears, my brain and my heart are here for you.
11. (And because we should always have a Spinal Tap moment, my number 11 comes from Willa Cather, a great author to cite on International Women's Day.)  Try and live your life with this in mind:  "Happiness comes from dissolving yourself into something complete and great".  Please never settle for anything less.  Never stop working to achieve it. And when you find it, dissolve and just let yourself be joyous in it. 

So, while it's no "100 Things to Celebrate about Belarusian Women", I am comfortable that if I manage to get my daughter, my nieces and their friends to know these things, something grand for women will have been accomplished.  And for that, I do thank Heaven for International Womens Day.

Heart of an Artichoke, Brain of a Scarecrow

"Heart of an Artichoke And Other Kitchen Journeys" by David Tanis is the first book I picked up seriously since 'the episode' on September 30th.  Yes it was a Christmas gift--albeit an amazing one.  And yes, I love, nay, seriously love artichokes.  But I have about 30 books that need to be read, especially Karen Armstrong's "Buddha", something I've been really wanting to read since my need (yes, need) for Yoga has grown. So, it's a bit of a mystery to figure out.

Now, having thought about it for a minute or two, I think, actually that it was the word 'journey' that made me pick it up first--because I feel I've been on a bit of my own journey these last few months.  As you all know from past posts, my head is giving me fits and starts in the form of a constant headache...the result has been interesting and surprisingly full of silver linings.  However, one of the big problems has been my inability to read--lack of concentration, double-vision, etc...keeps me from really digging in and when I read, I tend to read for hours.  And, now that I'm back at work, I'd been using my reading time up on things I need to read there.

So, it was with more than a little hesitation, that I got into bed the other night with this book.  I figure I'd thumb through it, drool over the recipes and pictures, get frustrated and then put it down. But nope...there was some seriously good writing to pour over here...and writing I could identify with--it seems he and I share a 'lingua franca' if you will...although unfortunately not a love for Chocolate Chip Cookies...anyway, his recipe for getting the reader engaged in the food is with memories of tastes and smells, nostalgia via other peoples stories, and a simple view of what a meal can be--whether that meal is a plate of potato salad and a beer (yes!) or a deconstructed turkey.

More than all of this, though, this book served as a reminder to me that Rome, or David Tanis as it were, wasn't built in a day, and that I needed to apply that same reminder to me and my own current journey, a deconstructed turkey if there ever was one.

So, instead of seeing the restricted diet, the need for exercise, the meds, the yoga, the knitting, the naps, the embroidery and the slower brain as a phase to get through and forget, why not see it all as seasoning for the finished dish that will eventually be Rene? Hopefully not the finishing touches, but definitely things that will stick with me, and be a part of me as I make them my own, for a long time to come.

The night before the night before the night before....

My daughter is fascinated by the idea of "eves"...the naming of the night before the big day.  Of course, as some fascinations are wont to do, it's gone a bit too far.  Right now she is making a list of the 'eves to come in 2011'...we are up to 22 and she is only through March.  Next, she says, she will make a menu for each of the eves.   I ask her, what about the next day?  "Those days take care of themselves, Mom.  But someone has to take care of the eves..."  Interesting theory--or just another reason for her to ask for baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, blue cheese, brie, olives, salami and the rest of her "best of" menu.

In any case, I share her delight in the night(s) before, there is something to be said for the cuddly anticipation, the quiet innocence of the unknown yet to be that comes before the loudness of the 'day', whichever day it happens to be.

And of all of the eves, I, probably like thousands of others, have a special place in my heart for Christmas Eve and all of the eves that run up to it.  The nights of Bing and Rosemary, with the lights off, the candles lit, the soft lights of the tree in the corner.  Hot Chocolate to my right, a book to my left and a pile of wrapping in the middle.  The fun of shopping with the kids for each other and their Dad, always ending with hot chocolate, even when it's 75 outside.  The hopeful whispers upstairs talking through the 'what if's' of boxes that arrive daily.  These are the eves of my adulthood.

The eves of my youth are distinct with memories of serious cold, of tires crunching across snow, of signing every carol we knew while driving up the hill to Butte Falls from Medford.  The heater in the old blue station wagon making you drowsy so the singing becomes that wonderful drone in the background of your dozing--until one of your four brothers and sisters yells that you are in their seat space...and then inevitably, the magic dissapated for a bit, sometimes for good, as the night became not so silent.  In our case, the irony of multiple instances of taking the Lord's name in vain on the heels of 'Oh Come All Yee Faithful' often got lost in the ensuing melee.

Which, as it happens, is history repeating itself as upstairs, the soft silence of my eve of the eve of the eve is broken because the older brother caught wind of the "Eves of 2011" production that is occurring and is repeatedly telling his little sister that "...it doesn't work that way, you are making all of this up..." and I'm waiting for the....yup, there it is, "Mooooom!  And, ooohh... I just heard a 'dammit'....  Here is an eve memory we'll all remember for different reasons.

Luckily, the hot chocolate to my right goes well with the Peppermint Schnapps in the cupboard.

Oh, My Body, My Body, Part Deux Or Headcase, Anyone?

So, I havent' written since I've been back to work.  I've been struggling with how to manage it all...but here is the kicker--The struggle is all in my head.  Irony.

The work itself is easy. I'm good at it.  I love it and it energizes me in a way that I'd taken for granted.  I've had no problem working up to my own standards.  I've had no problem setting boundaries as to how much I'll allow on my plate at any given time.  And, I've been just as, if not more effective. Awesome.

The taking care of myself?  Yeah, not so much. I find it easier to fall back into the craptastic schedule I was keeping before September 30th.  So disappointing and disappointed...actually more than that.  I'm totally pissed at myself.  But, like horses, bikes, bulls and relationships, you just gotta jump back in and/or on and that's where I'm at now...jumping back in/on.

See, the first week went great.  I got up, walked three or four miles, got back, ate a good breakfast, took my meds and got to work at a reasonable 9 am.  Worked, had my banana/slimfast shake and almonds for lunch.  On the way home did my yoga or rowing.   All of this in the service of managing my chronic headache from Occipital Neuralgia....the weight loss was a bonus.

Realized quickly that all night exercise will have to be moved to the morning....I'm too exhausted after work to get anything good out of the rowing or yoga.  So, figure out the new schedule, no problem...plenty of options for me. Feeling good.  Feeling upbeat, yes, even a little cocky.

Second week, Monday.  Sabotage....Self-Sabotage.  The voice inside my head that was saying, "heya, the pain is managed, don't worry about it"...so I slept in and scurried out the door without being able to look my husband in the eye when he asked if everything was fine.  "Totally Fine", I said. Which is actually code for "Totally fucked".

Second day followed the first day.  Except I did the utterly unthinkable and stepped on scale....gained a pound back.  Spent the fourth day talking to my therapist about how I am so angry at the self-sabotage and reminding myself that this is not about weight, it's about my head.  Nothing changed over the next few days....except Tuesday of Third week, I wake up with my head pain at about a 8 or 9 when I had it consistently down to a 4 or 5. 

My fault. No exercise, wrong food, not enough sleep.  So sucked it up, went downstairs and jumped, okay, shuffled, into family life.  Later, a nap, shower and pain pill and we were out and about.

All of these years, it's been about the vanity of weight, with good intentions wiped out by evil little voices, laziness and fear...the justification of "I can still do anything."  Of, "I like being a little cuddly."  Of "Reuben had it right, red hair and curves."

Except it's not about that anymore....exercise and diet are just a way for me to manage the real issue with is chronic head pain--something that actually does keep me from doing things with my kids, my husband, my self...now and in the long term. 

So, back in the saddle, old girl.  Or as my daughter said to me the other night, "My brain gets me into trouble too Mom. You just have to wait until the right moment when it's not looking and then do the right thing."

So, for the next six weeks or so Brain, "look away, look away"!

Subjective Pain, Yo Yo Ma, Porcupines and Soofganiyots

photo by Lowell Lipton

I have found just enough amusement in the words "migraine pain is subjective" to just let it go.  60-some days in with an unrelenting headache/migraine I find myself on the cusp of going back to work in a week--there are a lot of questions I'm asking myself about this, but the main one is, "will I be able to work up to my own high standards?"  Will I be confident and comfortable with the product I put forward?  God, I really hope so.

I often thought I'd go crazy at home not working, but I found that to be an artificial construct I created to make myself feel better about not working.  The reality is I needed these two months and quite frankly I need more time to work out the kinks in my pain managment routine--you see I can get to about 3 pm right now with the pain at about a constant 5 (with 10 being the worst).  If I take a nap, then I can extend that to about 7 pm...but at that point...zoooey mama...it ratchets up and I'm wanting my pain medicine, a dark room and a comfy bed.  All of this is in the context of me not reading, driving or being in any stressfull situations.  Add those three things back in and well, I'm not sure what it going to happen.  Someone once told me to "get comfortable on the edge of the unknown--to be curious about what is coming...".  I think that lesson was for right now.

So, since the FMLA folks find headaches and migraines "subjective", I'm back to work a few weeks earlier than I had hoped.  It will take a lot of planning and management on my part to make going back to work, well, work--both for myself and my teams--not to mention my clients and I want it all seamless, hidden from them because it's not their issue and I don't like feeling weak or "less than" in front of others.  Of course, this is silly because I'm not even back to work and I'm already adding stress.  Excellent.  Good Plan. 

So, we'll see.  Curious about the unknown and all of that. 

During these two months off I struggled early on with the idea of not having a "purpose" other than getting well and I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish.  Of course, I wrote that list in a journal and thought I could journal all about accomplishing this list.  Oh, belly laughs for sure. Serious hysterics at this one.  The list mocked me from afar because I didn't touch the friggin' journal past week two.  That, however, does not mean I did not accomplish a few things.

First, I did learn how to knit. It is not calming for me, but I did it anyway. I can knit basic scarfs with one stitch...if I try to pearl it all goes to hell.  So, all the scarves I'm knitting are knitted, no pearls.  For those of you getting them for a holiday gift...deal with it.

The office, after two years, did get organized. It felt good, but not as good as I thought it would.  Big let down.  Basicially I realized that now I have to keep up the organization.  Not so much a silver lining for me. 

And, I did go through all of the kids schoolwork from the past three years and put the items we thought 'keep worthy' into their memory trunks...along with tiny underwear, baptism outfits and the pregnancy diaries I did keep when I was "round for a reason".  Now my daughter is creating 'memory boxes' for Big Spitty our deceased cat, for her favorite stuffed animal and for the 'first grandparent to die'.  Lovely.   "Monster creation" was not on my list, but I could go back and write it in and then immediately cross it off just to feel that sense of accomplishment. 

I've gotten into an exercise routine...walking, yoga-ing and rowing...I feel so much better for it.  And my iPhone is chock-a-block full of new music for this new 'Exerciser Rene'.

Which is how I figured out that Yo Yo Ma is for Fall...especially Fall mornings that are kinda foggy.  He works really well then. And, I found that I prefer walking to singer/songwriters and alternative music as opposed to rock, pop or techno (unless it's Gavin Froome and then it's good.)

Speaking of techno, that's what my 8-year old daughter wants for Christmas.  That and a giant (bigger than her) stuffed Penguin.  My son wants "30 books and a porcupine".  Seriously, 30 books!  He didn't even get to put the Mac Air on his list...it was no sooner out of his mouth than the laughter began.  First time in a while my husband and I laughed so loud, so hard.  We had to thank him for that.

Back to the porcupine. His best friend has two ground hogs and a hedgehog, so my son figures, what is better than that?   Obviously, he got his critical thinking skills from the other side of the family.  :)

Tonight, the eve of Hanukkah, I made Soofganiyots or Israeli Doughnuts for the kids to take in to their classes tomorrow.  While my Jewish husband had never heard of these, I know they do exist and that they are for Hanukka because they are in "1000 Jewish Recipes" cookbook that was given to me when I married my husband.  So there!    My son, who was helping me for a bit, did ask why we didn't have a "1000 Catholic Recipes" cookbook for me, so I quickly took the conversation back to the porcupine...much safer and easier discussion.

It's about 10:30 pm...we sent my daughter to bed about 2 1/2 hours ago.  She just peeked down the stairs and asked me about Mad Cow disease. 

All I can think right now is, thank goodness I learned recently that pain is subjective.

The Paper Chase: Things to be Thankful For And The Sergeant's List

So I was going through all of the paper floating around our house today--paper that our children create on and with in their various activities throughout the day.  Not just school related, it was found falling out of backpacks, stacked on desks and chairs, under beds and yes, even (and already) in the bathroom on the floor by the toilet.

At first, it was just a regular chore, me the memory keeper sorting through what goes in the trash, what each child might want to keep and what I might want to put in their memory trunks for later, you know, when they are grown ups and I want to embarrass them.  However, about half-way through I found myself sitting in the craft/music/sports room reading through some of these--some making me laugh, others making me cringe and some just plain old confusing me as I couldn't 'see' the child that created the thing I was looking at...it wasn't a child I was acquainted with obviously.  Even if it was my kid.

First, I'm happy to see in the "Things I like About"  booklet by my daughters classmates that all of them find her funny and amusing.  A few of them even find her awesome, wierd, nice and terrific.  I agree with all of that (although the spelling was changed to for the sake of her second grade friends) and I 'm happy to see all of these great descriptors.  However, I was most impressed by two of the children who said that she is a 'good friend".  These are not children that my daughter mentions much or has play dates with and I only knew them from the class list or the mentions on the class blog.  So when I asked my daughter about it, she just said that some of her classmates aren't that nice to these two kids and she "kinda takes care of them' sometimes. I asked her to tell me more about this and, with a good amount of impatience, she just said, "I make sure that no one is putting rocks in their shoes at recess, and that they don't get pushed out of line."

Rocks and recess lines...I remember when making and being a good friend was just that easy and without getting to sappy, I told her she was a good kid and that I was proud of her and gave her a hug.  "Whatever, Mom.  Are you sure you didn't take too many of your headache pills today?"  And......scene.

Not that she knows it, but she somewhat redeemed herself later when I read her "Things I am Thankful For" list, because it was pure "her"...sweet, funny and a little wierd.  And here it is:

1.  Food
2.  Making Food
3.  Uncle Charlie

4.  Air

5.  Mom and Dad
6.  Teachers
7.  Brother
8.  Cousins
9. Hearts
10. Life

And in her own "Spinal Tap" moment, she added her own number 11.  More Food

I'm just glad I made the list and I've used logic to be okay with the fact that we came after "air".

Later, I came across an oddly important looking document entitled, "Sargents Test" (sic).  It was obvious from the writing that my daughter had written the questions and my son had answered them, part of some game they had been playing in the park earlier.  According to the document, he passed his "Sargents" test, although the "tester" told the "testee" that he still needed to come up with a better "Sargent" nickname.  But I'll get to that later.

Page one of the test was the stuff that threw me--although I don't really know why.  Boys, even boys like ours who have not grown up around guns, and who aren't allowed to watch movies like "Kill Bill" even though their friends get to, play their version of soldier, cowboy, lawman, etc.  It just blew me away that either of them knew enough to ask and answer questions about "flanking maneuvers" or that the 'stock' is the main body part of a gun.

I was happy to see that he had only 'killed' 4 men and that he'd left (or kept...it wasn't that clear) 69 men alive.  That made me happy and hopefull...hopefull that he could see the 'human' factor of a war and not just the 'cool stuff' like guns and flanking maneuvers. Happy in that he might have actually listed to some of the talks we've had when we thought the 'war' stuff was getting a bit too intense.

We've seen him grow into a solid historian about WW II. He's read "Band of Brothers", "Diary of Anne Frank" and about a million other fiction and non-fiction books about WW II.  He has looked up his Grandfather, Rear Admiral Charles Beasley who was in the Pacific theater of the war on a destroyer and he idolizes my father, Lt.Commander John Huey, a fighter pilot off carriers through 1968.  And, because it's who we are, and because we want him to be able to understand and discuss war and soldiers on a different level,  my husband and I make sure to talk to our kids about the wars they've grown up with--the why's and how's of Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan and especially the human factor of the war in terms of our troops and their families, as well as the civilians who are living through all of this on the other side of the world.

I knew all of this, had participated in all of it, but I don't think I knew what it meant to him, or rather what it meant to his character. And I'm not sure I do now.  But I'm going with the fact that "men killed to alive" ratio was 4 to 69...that my sweet boy values life even at this pretend level. This is something we'll keep talking with him about--that both as a budding historian and a boy who plays war in the park, it's easy to read about shooting and killing and it's easy to play at it, but he can never forget that it all comes down in the end to two things...his understanding of the value of humanity and the choices he makes about that value as he continues to build his character..

On another note, I have to agree with my daughter (the "tester") about his choice of nicknames:  Fish Eye and Dead Claw just don't have any, well, meaning or panache.  He'll have to work on that as well.

Melancholy, Baby Or The Soundtrack of A Painful Morning on Short Term Disability

It probably doesn't help that I'm listening to Holly Golightly signing "Slowly But Surely", or that it's a grey, grey day, or that I'm still at home with a migraine/headache that has been constant since September 30th. 

This is a new and unpleasant experience for me...me from the family of "no blood, no foul" and my personal favorite, "you can find sympathy in the dictionary between shit and syphillis".   Me of the marriage to the man who is disabled with a chronic pain/neurological issue for the last 6 or so years and deals with it well.  No matter what, I was always the type of person to get up, find a way to fix things and move forward...that is what I do.

But right now I feel stymied by the cage of bureaucracy I find myself in--stuck between the bars of doctors and insurance companies and short-term disability organizations that all move on their own timeline regardless of what the other company, or patient needs.  I thought since I've been diagnosed finally with Occipital Neuralgia things would get easier with the paperwork, but actually not.  Go figure.

Am I receiving good care?  Yes, I believe my doctor has a firm grasp on the issues and is working a conservative, but smart course of treatment. And, as a bonus, I like and trust him.

But I'm realizing that "care" is a complex entitity for me.  Just like with your children when they are sick, medicine is never enough--they need the right blanket, the right stuffed animal, the right lap to be cuddled in.  The right story at night, the right whispered conversation in the middle of the night and the right silly movie from the couch in the middle of the day.

I doubt it's just me, but adults on short-term or long term disability need our own version of these things:  

My own version of my "blankie":  a call from the boss to check in on you, to let you know that you are still a part of team. Calls and notes from friends and families...not about getting well, but about connecting you to things outside of your own head and body. 

Things you can count on:  like the right records being faxed to the right entity without having to check and double and triple check.  Promised updates on your 'file' coming through when they are supposed to.  Knowing when you are going to get paid so that you can take care of your family.

Things you can accomplish: whether it is cleaning out the junk drawer in the kitchen or trying something new like knitting.  I've spoke of this before on this blog, but it's about having a "purpose", whether big or small, aside from getting better or well.

(Egads, now Richard Thompson is singing "Beeswing"--I've got to play something a little more chipper.)

Luckily, I have a great "blankie" with my friends and family, and I've got a good list of "purposeful to do" things that don't make my headache worse.  The "things I can count on" are a bit more problematic and cause anxiety which then rachets up the old headache....viscious circle.  

(Okay, Lords of Acid, "Let's Get High and Have Fun" sounded better in theory than practice...Now I'm back to Nina Simone, "Four Women".) 

The worst part of it all is feeling like you are being judged for taking Short Term Disability for something like a headache....even when I explain that it's been constant since the end of September.  Even when I explain the double vision, the nausea, the speech dysplasia, the pain that makes me want to grind my knees into a rocky asphalt road while hoping for a car to come by and just clip me a little.  It didn't help when my first doctor asked my husband, in the context of the FMLA paperwork, "How many times has she tried this?".  Me, a 60-70+ hour worker, who is always there for the people I work with and for!  Lowest point, definately. 

But I know where to find sympathy, right?  And relatively, I've got it easy...there are bigger problems in the world and people more worthy of an "emotional blankie" than little old me.  Besides, I've got Yoga tonight...that's good for at least two or three good giggles at myself.

So, I'm ending this with Hello Saferide and "Last Bitter Song". Fitting.

Yoga Made Me Cry, And The Rest of the Week

About 60 minutes into the 75 minute class, the teacher asked me to "grasp my sucess" or something of the like.  I couldn't.  In fact success wasn't just eluding me, it was fearsomely mocking me.  I felt like crying or puking, knowing me probably both at the same time.  We had just got done doing this meditation that required me to fold my right hand together with the thumb under (think about it as the exact wrong way to make a fist when you are punching someone or something), squeeze it tight as you can while attempting whistling and focusing on the end of your nose at the same time--and I think there was a special type of breathing that was supposed to happen at the same time. For me it was like trying to tap my tummy and rub my head at the same time--nothing came together and at the end of the 11 minutes I felt like a complete and utter failure.  I can't whistle, I kept forgetting to look at the end of my nose and I think I was breathing in when I was supposed to be breathing out.  The only good news is what I could hardly unclasp my hand and it hurt, (Yoga Claw!) so I gathered from the feedback that this was a good thing.

The teacher, who was actually amazing, soothing, funny and more made some mention, in general, at the end of the class about being a pre-beginners class and I' m pretty sure it was meant for me.  But no, I'm going stick out the regular old beginners class, so next Saturday I'll be there, fire breath, yoga marching and trying to direct it all to my third eye. Oy vey.

The rest of the week had ups and downs, but overall I'm feeling, finally, like I'm moving forward through this whole migraine from hell medical leave.

UPs: 

• The Austin Weather!  Cool, crisp with the scent of wood fires in the air.  At night, there has been the hint of moisture, so a little fog.  To me, this is perfect weather and I could live year round in it.  It makes for especially nice walks, both in the morning as a workout and at night meandering around the neighborhood with my husband. 
• The Fushigi Experience:  my daughter had been asking for the Fushigi (an anti gravity ball from a long-form commercial that promised magic, delight and it was theraputic!  After three months of mentions, she gets it for her birthday.  Twenty minutes later, the screams of "It's a rip-off" bounce around the house.  You ask why this is under an "Up"?  Well, first, it's funny as hell to hear your 8-year old ranting righteously about the magic ball being a rip-off.  And secondly, it's a good lesson for her to learn.  The Fushigi Ball now holds a place of prominence--a silver, glowing sphere on the mantle under the television.
• New Neil Diamond album!  "Dreams".  I'm not an undercover fan at all.  I love Neil, especially the stuff from the last decade or so.
• Deep Relaxation Yoga.  I have to admit that I've allowed myself to fall off the edge of curiosity  when it comes to yoga and I'm comfortable  building my wings, mistakes and all, on the way down. I even went so far as to by a CD and a lavender eye-bag so when I can do it at home.  The first time my daughter was interested in joining me and it was going well until the voice on the CD asked us to direct our energy to the "right buttock, the left buttock".  Sophia, standing up from her little rug, snorted and said, "I can't learn anything from a guy who doesn't know that people have just one butt!" and marched off to her room.  I wasn't sure if I should let that energy expand into the universe, but I figured it couldn't hurt.
• Halloween was fun!
• Something Is Working:  Whether it's the medications, the cortisone treatments, the better eating, sleeping, exercise or yoga...or all of it together.  My migraines/headaches seem to be leveling out.  They haven't gone away yet, but the seem to be settling into a manageable mode.  I'm looking forward to the next round of procedures and what positive outcome they can bring!

Downs

• In one of my first Deep Relaxation Yoga classes, the teacher asked us to think of and talk about a person in our lives, but who had passed away, who we tried to model ourselves after.  The majority of the women in the room, of all ages, and including me, brought up our Grandmothers and described them as "fearless, fierce, confident, strong, takes no bullshit".  It made me wonder if this generation would be described the same way by our granddaughters.  I'm not sure--I think we have a lack of good role femal, pracital and strong role models, quite frankly and are afraid of the "bitch" label.  When I think of strong and practical women, I have quite a few in my personal life--but only two in my global life (Hillary Clinton, Rachel Maddow and Eleanor Roosevelt).  I must find more, or as Eleanor said, "You must do the things you think you cannot do."
• I'm sick to my stomach and heart about this 'sound bite' society we live in now.  We all want things fixed faster than fast--the economy, healthcare, jobs, education, etc...yet we don't take responsibility for the fact that we all had a hand in creating the fiasco, and it took us a long time to screw things up so badly.  So instead of sticking to the person we voted in, we start searching for the next group of people who, regardlesss of their good intentions, won't be able to satisfy the needs in the time we give them.  It's a vicious circle that concerns me more and more and personally, I blame anyone 40 and younger...we should be smarter than this and we should have the determination to work the hard work to get it done right.
• Finally, and related to above, after living through this mid-term election I look back to something else Eleanor said and find it even more true today, "Sometimes I wonder if we shall ever grow up in our politics and say definite things which mean something, or whether we shall always go on using generalities to which everyone can subscribe, and which mean very little."  I think we all know the side we are erring on.

So, no books yet, obviously, but I'll get there.  As I will with the Yoga...hopefully without tears or arguments over whether there is one buttock or two with an 8 year old.  I just gotta keep remembering...in the future, I'm awesome.

Things That Are Supposed to Relax Me Actually Do The Opposite

Okay, a month now of consistent migraine, cluster headache, occipital neuralgia or whatever it is.  New Doc, new drugs, new possibilities, day by day I'm muddling through.

I'm trying to read each day, but it makes the headache worse more times than not, so it's a crapshoot.

I was able to sew up my daughter's school Halloween costume (Hobo)--as opposed to the one she is trick or treating in (skeleton), which was fun.  And we made two cakes together for her class Cake Walk at the school Fall Zamborree.  Loads of fun in the kitchen with frosting---thanks to Top Chef:  Just Desserts we even carved and other fancy stuff.  The pumpkin looked like a nice carved pumpkin.  The skull?  Not so much.  It was probably the last cake forced upon some wary winner.  Oh well, we are pretty sure it tasted good.

But these are very small moments in between a lot of sleep and a lot of cursing silently in a darkened room.  Not the way I want to live my life even for a short period of time.

There are two things I've been told time and time again by literally everyone that will help keep my brain free of pain:  exercise and things that relax you.  I now believe that "litterally everyone" hates me.

I walk because running is out...anythiing that bounces my head up and down or back and forth is out, which is problematic on a whole other level, becuase THAT relaxes me.  Irony much?

So, on the manufactured relaxation front I'm trying two things.  One, Yoga.  Not the bendy yoga for reasons mentioned above, but a deep relazation yoga and one called Kandalini (sp?).  Secondly, I'm attempting to take up knitting.

Knitting.  Or as I call it these days, 'Fucking Knitting".  Edvard Munch once said, "No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women knitting. I will paint living people who breathe and feel and suffer and love.".  If he was painting me, he could paint a woman knitting and suffering!  A two-fer for old Edvard...what a bargain for him except I think he already painted it...you know, The Scream.

I did the right thing...I bought what the internet said to buy in terms of needles and yarn and then I picked up Knitting for Dummies because someone said it had the best pictures.  It might.  In fact it probably does.  But the fact is that I didn't shoot low enough...I should have bought Knitting for the Absolute Idiot and maybe then I would, after a full week, be able to do more than cast on a few stiches before it goes completely to hell, along with my language.  This is neither satisfying nor relaxing and I end up back, cursing silently and possibly more inventively, in a darkened room.

In fact, this whole knitting debacle is so pathetic my husband is out right now at Wal-Mart attempting to get me a different set of needles and a different type of yarn...I love him for it, (and lord knows, this proves he loves me) but I'm not holding out much hope.  He also found and showed me the best apps on the iPhone for knitting, probably in the hopes that I'd stop muttering on the couch like a crazy woman.  I even went so far as taking my 8-year olds advice and called my Mother because as my daughter put it, "She can knit and talk to people, including Grandpa who is deaf, so she must be good."  I called, she was out, but my Dad got a great laugh out of it.

I will continue to work at knitting.  Probably, knowing myself,  for the sheer need to conquer it although I do hope to find some sense of accomplishment and moments of relaxation.

I'm not ready to talk about Yoga yet.  I'm trying to give it time.  All I have to say is that Deep Relaxation Yoga is painfully like what I do the rest of the time:  lie down in a darkened room cursing silently.

The Blessing of Double Vision!

I was trying to read the NYT online today, and it didn't go as well as hoped--glary double vision and all.  However, in the Fashion & Style section of all places (hello, Sports?), it did ask me "Can Paul Rabil Make Lacrosse Sexy?". 

Do they need to ask, seriously?    It reminded me of a line I read a while ago in a romance book that made me giggle: "He smiled then and made her heart spring like a lemming flinging itself into the sea." Best. Line. Ever.  And I could see it applied to my double-visioned person of beauty. 

And, maybe he'll be the one that will bring some positive press to the sport.

I know It's All Relative: I Cheer for the Chilean Miners, but Me? I'm Angry and Icky and Bookless!

Twelve days ago I got hit with my first migraine ever. Knocked me on my ass...hard. I drove myself to the hospital. Not the smartest move ever.  I don't remember much but some honking, so am assuming I drove really slow. Cause that's how I was feeling...sloooowwwwwww, distorted, like a off-kilter sound-wave.

I got to one hospital and got transfered to another and then spent five days on Dilauded (sp?) ...lots of it. Dreamy. I gotta say that for the first time I understand the whole addiction thing.

Got sent home cause I was "healed"...but unfortunately still have migraine. Saw some new doctors and they want me to wait for their new meds to take effect--up to two weeks. This makes me angry...I'm taking notes on how their meds are affecting me and I've got some suggestions, but no....I'm just the tottering, squinting, slow-talker they will see next Tuesday. 

There are a lot of sucky things about this...first is the fact that I don't know when this is going to end.  Everyone says it won't last much longer.  Everone else says they can't believe it's lasted this long.  So, I'm trying to stay on the edge of curious, but I don't do well when I can't see what's out in front of me. At all.

I guess it's not all bad.  My son did get some laughs telling the story about how Mommy projectile vomited all over herself and the passenger seat of the car when we were all stuck in rush-hour traffic on the way home from the doctor. He did not like giving up his shirt to me so I could wipe my face off, but that's the price you pay for funny.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone tells me to not worry, about anything. Is that possible?  Seriously?  How do I not worry about how the pressure is affecting my husband who is disabled and about how tired he looks, that my son has suddenly developed a lot of tummy aches, my daughter is suddenly obsessed about fairness in terms of good and bad people, about falling behind at work and putting pressure on an already understaffed department.  I am not the type of person who can lie still in a dark room not worrying about stuff even though her head would feel better if I smashed my hand in a car door.  Twice.  Hard.

Along with the pain in my head, my body feels gross.  I'm eating less because chewing hurts.  I can't stand the taste of my elixir of life, Diet Pepsi anymore, so I'm drinking more water than is possibly good for you.  Yet my skin is blah, my nails are cracky, my hair is so-so.   I find myself getting weepy when shows like Criminal Minds and NCIS use emotional quotes.  So you can see I'm a disaster.

Personally I think it's because of two things...First, I got no 'purpose'...it's not like I'm taking time off to "be at home" or anything, so short of trying not to puke when I move, or playing my new favorite game, "guess which of the double-vision objects is real", there's not a lot of reason in my life right now. I do NOT do that well. 

The second thing is that I can't read right now---I have multiple books just waiting for me to read them..and not just books, magazine articles, web articles, etc.  They are calling to me...all of that knowledge, all of those ideas that are waiting for me to find them. All of those wonderful phrases, sentences...the tempo of a beautifully written paragraph.  Sigh.  All of those bits of information that I put aside until they are ready to be useful for a friend, a client, my family.  It's driving me batty!!!!  More importantly, I feel lost without them on some level.  I do get to listen to my daughter read to me from "Alex and the Ironic Gentleman" by Adrienne Kress.  A really fantastic book for girls of all ages.

So, three hours later, I finish this one tiny blog...more than twice what it usually takes.  Mainly because brain is slow and cranky and double vision typing sucks...and I'm still without...without an end in sight, without an answer as to what to do and dammit all, without a book to read. 

But the fantastic news is that tonight when I totter off to bed, I will quietly kiss my kids goodnight, both of each of them

Guest Post by Luke Sullivan: Never Shop At A Book Store When You Are Stupid

NOTE:  I am lucky enough work with Luke, so I get to read his stuff all of the time.  I thought this was a nice partner to my previous post, so I asked him if I could publish it on my blog and he graciously agreed.  Luke is the author of "Hey Whipple, Squeeze This", his take on creating great advertising.  



You’ve probably heard that saying: “Never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry.” Well, it makes sense. You end up buyin’ all kinds of junk food that looks yummy, or buyin’ way more than you planned on.

Which reminds me of that time I went to a liquor store sober.

Dude. Big mistake. (“Awww, man, gotta get me some of this vodka. And this gin. Get some gin. Ooooo, tequila, get that.”)

 Well, wouldn’t you know it, just the other day I walked into Book People here in Austin…. and I walked in stupid. Because there is so much that I don’t know, well, suddenly I’m reachin’ for every stinkin’ book on the shelves.

(“Gotta get me the new Franzen book. Oh, man, and lookit this new Blackwell title, ‘Outliers.’ He’s so smart, gotta git that.”)
Man oh man, I nearly flattened the embossed numbers on my Mastercard.

You know what might cure me of this book problem?

The new Kindle. Reason I say that is because the ads say the new Kindle can store 3,500 titles. Three thousand five hundred titles?

Here’s the thing. I’m a pretty fast reader. On vacation, I’ve been known to put away a book a day. But even at my best, … 3,500 titles? Polishing off that digital bookshelf would take nine and a half years of constant speed reading. Even Evelyn Wood, the speed-reading queen herself, man, at around book #1,954 … wouldn’t she just blow up?

Do I really need to carry 3,500 books on vacation? A guy named Barry Schwarz wrote a cool book called The Paradox of Choice. His main thesis: “We assume that more choice means greater satisfaction when it fact it means less.” He posits that a massive number of things to choose from can make a person feel bewildered, then anxious, and ultimately less satisfied after taking a purchase decision.

I think I know what Mr. Schwarz’s talkin’ about. Can you imagine if the first iPod’s commercials promised “A Trillion Songs In Your Pocket.” Man, I’d just tip over at the concept of a mathematical eternity burnin’ a hole in my pocket. I’d blow up.

Don’t get me wrong, I happen to love my e-reader (an iPad). But I don’t think the main promise of a Kindle or an iPad is a Brobdingnagian memory. Just gimme a digital L.L.Bean tote’s-worth. Just enough books to get me through the Labor Day weekend.