she's just saying...

The Seven Dwarves: Teary, Cranky, Testy, Achy, Sad, Mean and Psychotic Breakdown.

It's been one month since my eye surgery. My eye aches and leaks, my vision is blurry, I can't wear mascara, I'm always hungry and I've gained five pounds. All that would make me grumpy enough, without the additional help of the mental side effects of the prednisone I'm popping.

Quoting from the FDA here: "Psychic derangements may appear when corticosteroids are used, ranging from euphoria, insomnia, mood swings, personality changes, and severe depression, to frank psychotic manifestations. Also, existing emotional instability or psychotic tendencies may be aggravated by corticosteroids." The euphoria is long gone -- we're well into emotional instability and maybe even dipping our toe into the sea of psychosis. Best to stay out of my way. As my son and co-workers can attest.

My dog is on prednisone as well, for a degenerative disk in his neck. (We don't share prescriptions, as his tastes like liver.) Together we walk around the house, searching for stray food someone might have dropped. We have to pee a lot too, but maybe that's TMI. Flash's psychotic tendencies date well back before his medication, though -- those of you with border collies know of which I speak.

 

 

To tell the truth answers

OK, so that last post was a little boring. Ex-cuse me! I'm dyin' up heah! Sheesh. Tough crowd.

Time for answers to the 2 Truths & 1 Lie meme, another uninspired post to judge by your participation (Kathi D, BigBro and Margo are excused from that snarky comment.)

Group A: I have not attended the Academy Awards, though I've made it to a lot of great Oscar parties while in LA (much cooler than actually going). And yes, that means I was a girl scout in high school. Dork!

Group B: No, my favorite drink unfortunately was White Russians. I got to tell you, if you ever witness someone barfing sloe gin, you'll never touch the stuff. But that inspired combination was the favorite of a friend of mine, poor girl.

Group C: True confession: these are all true. I forgot to put in the lie. But I can make some up now!

I can't vote for BigBro's cause he's my BigBro.

More scintillating post coming, fer shur.

TTT: Lessons from September

1. Doing nothing is a learned skill requiring one to let go.
2. Doing nothing + prednisone = 5 lbs.
3. The Deschutes Library's audiobook download system rocks.
4. New vocabulary words: hypotony, dehiscence, choroidals.
5. Accepting help can be a generous act, whether chores or casseroles.
6. Local is a better choice for doctors as well as bookstores.
7. I'd rather have Valium than Vicoden, if you're offering.
8. A doctor who gives you his cell number for the weekend is priceless.
9. Inner peace can be as close as hanging with pets on a porch.
10. Living two blocks from a produce stand is the bomb.

Meme alert: "Two Truths & A Lie"

Remember all those fun games we used to play here? The very-popular "Six words to describe your life;" "Things I've done that you haven't;" and my favorite, the wacky nickname game.

It's time for another, and I expect everyone to participate. This one is called 2 Truths & 1 Lie. The concept: write one or more 3-line sets of statements about yourself, two of which are true and one of which is a total fabrication. Wait a couple days for votes, then reveal all, either in the comments or on your blog. (By the way, in case you were worrying about my blog not getting enough comments, many people comment on Facebook instead. I know you were concerned and I appreciate that.)

So I'll go first. You vote, and add your own. Or not: this is all about me, after all.

PS: Family members can't vote. Inside knowledge.

Group A:

1. I have attended the Academy Awards.
2. I worked as a cocktail waitress in Alaska.
3. I was a Girl Scout in high school.

Group B:

1. My only food allergy is fish eggs.
2. I love pickled okra.
3. My favorite drink in college was sloe gin and Diet Dr. Pepper.

Group C:

1. I've taken piano, oboe and mandolin lessons.
   
2. I am certified to teach aerobics, scuba diving and CPR.
   
3. I speak French, Spanish and Italian.
   

Go for it.

Beet Me, or, What I Did Last Night

Local alert: Richard's Produce Stand is closing down for the season Oct.15. (I asked Adam what I'm going to do all winter without him, and he said: "Eat citrus." It's going to be a long winter.) 

I'm already anticipating the produce withdrawal and it won't be pretty. So meanwhile I'm overbuying and it's a great time to do it as everything is at the peak of ripeness. I'm putting up sauteed tomato chunks and garlic, freezing peach slices, jarring peeled garlic cloves in olive oil* and making parsley salsa. And last night I roasted beets.

I've never cooked beets before due to memories of their canned weirdness, but they looked really cool at the produce stand and I felt adventurous. Plus, the New York Times decreed "Beets: the New Spinach" so I had to jump on the trendwagon.

I fired up the gas grill (with soaked wood chips for a nice smoky touch), tossed slices of unpeeled beets with olive oil/salt and slow-grilled them for 40 minutes or so, turning once. I also threw thick slices of onion and a head of garlic in foil on there just to be efficient. They all came out caramelized and smoky and really transformative.

Beets pair well with goat cheese to cut their sweetness and add a creamy tang, so I'm making a beet/arugula/chevre salad with vinaigrette to serve with crusty bread and pinot gris. Dinner's at seven.

the beetness of beets

*Note: storing garlic cloves in olive oil at room temperature is a perfect recipe for botulism. Refrigerate.

This is just wrong. In so many ways.

Found on a cracked-out crafter's blog:

Christmas Countdown

Parents' Night or Town Hall Meeting?

Our brand-spanking-new school

Last week or so (the days all blend), Henry's 5th grade teacher held a Meet the Teacher parents' night at which he reviewed his background, his teaching approach, the class expectations, etc. All was good until it came to the parents' turn to ask questions. This upper-middle-class professional achiever crowd is tough.

(Cute kid aside: the other day someone asked Henry whether he liked his new teacher and Henry replied: "Yeah! He's got a lot of energy!" Highest praise indeed.)

This teacher is an experienced, smart, personable, dedicated guy and he uses a well-honed system to get the most from his students. Plus he's funny and popular with the kids. And has a lot of energy. What's not to love?  However, the tone of the parents' questioning kinda surprised me. They all seemed to come with a dull ax to grind. For example:

"How do you plan to prepare my student to enter the Advanced International Baccalaureate program [in a local high school]?" (Did I mention this is fifth grade?)

"Why is the school using Macs when 90% of business uses PCs? Do you plan to teach them both systems?"

"What is this CNN.com student news channel they're being exposed to?" "How do we know it's appropriate?" "What's its bias?"

"How are you going to teach the students to not trust what the news media tells them?" (this last from a staunch neo-conservative tea-party type)

"When you say 'we assess our students' progress and help them achieve from their starting level' who is that "we"? Is that you? How do you plan to assign their levels?"

"If the kids choose their own reading, how do you know my kid is not slacking and reading something too elementary for her level?"

And so on. I think Mr. G was taken aback, and finally asked a bit plaintively:

"Doesn't anyone want to talk about birthday parties?"

Aliens in the Classroom

So I'm in my room, folding endless piles of laundry, when Henry bursts in with this announcement:

"Mom! A green person showed up today! She said: 'Don't recycle the lemonade cartons!' "

And then he runs off.

A helpful voice from the cosmos? A cryptic warning?

What's really going on in that new school? I wonder...

"Cross my heart, hope to die,"

"stick a needle in my eye..." oh, wait, my eye doc just did that.

In what may be a first in blogging history, I'm writing this sitting in the doctor's chair during breaks while he places sutures in the conjunctiva covering my eyeball.

You all know I love my eye doctor. I obviously have to, since I'm letting him do this, the first time he's attempted it in an office setting, without even any intravenous sedation.

I wasn't expecting this this morning, but this unresolved complication has been keeping him up at night and I really want to put his mind at rest.

Oops, here he comes with the needle again.

More later.

----

Home again. Couple of Vicoden, glass of wine and I'm good as new.

So, Jason admitted that though he's never done this procedure before at his office (without the operating room microscope), he called his buddy who's done it a lot who told him it was no big deal. There may be times when complete disclosure is not always appropriate in a medical setting and this may have been one of them but I was game so we gave it a shot. I channeled my best Buddhist meditative state, stared into the light and put my eye in his hands.

He told me he didn't think he wanted to read my blog tonight but he has nothing to worry about. I'll take his honesty and caring over standard physician arrogance any day. Plus, as I told him, he messes up and his name is mud in our alumni newsletter.

But will it feed the dog and program the TIVO?

We've been cooking a lot of rice around here lately. It fits the four basic Henry food requirements:

• filling
• cheap
• can eat any time of day
• goes well with butter and/or sugar

So I've been looking at rice cookers. They seem sort of unnecessary, like a Mr. Tea maker, but people rave about them and I'm all about more appliances.

If I could afford it, this would be my first choice, based on my motto "Why pay less?"

Zojirushi NS-ZCC10 5-1/2-Cup Neuro Fuzzy Rice Cooker and Warmer

List Price:	$233.00
Price:	$159.99

Multi-menu selections using advanced Neuro Fuzzy logic technology control the temperature for efficient cooking of many different types of rice including white, sushi, mixed, porridge, sweet, semi-brown, brown, rinse-free, and quick cooking.

Because I think it's important to cook with fuzzy logic. That's how I approach everything else, frankly.

Can you count the guilt in this picture?

 

Answer:

1. Going to the evil Starbucks instead of a local coffeehouse.
2. Using the drive-through, pretty lazy and burns too much fuel.
3. Buying a grande 1-pump vanilla caramel macchiato, basically a high calorie milkshake.
4. Not making a latte at home for 1/3 the time and price.

Almost enough guilt to spoil the coffee, but not quite. Cheers!

My eye guy

Everyone, meet my eye doctor, Jason Dimmig. Isn't he cute?

I've seen Jason more than any other adult in the last two weeks. Not kidding. We pretty much have a daily thing. Don't tell his wife.

Looking up. Literally.

Things are getting a little weirder around here. Just got back from my eye doctor, with new instructions: "Don't look down, and I'll see you in two days."

Seems there's a little leak at the top of my eye (ew! ew!) that my lid is keeping together, and when that heals, I can go back to normal activities. In the meantime, I have to focus straight ahead as much as possible.

There are way too many puns and analogies and metaphors to be made here, which I won't. You're welcome.

The primary position I've held for the last week, looking down to read and knit, is out, so now I'll be propping pillows for books and ignoring anything below my nose. I've also maybe been a teeny bit too active and have to dial it down even further. This may now be the right time for pharmaceutical intervention.

At least I was prescient enough to get a pedicure before the operation, so my feet should look nice. I wouldn't know.

 

First day of 5th grade

First day of 5th grade, originally uploaded by Meltrier.

He has worn that down jacket all winter, and all summer too. Boy needs a little beef on his bones.

In which I do nothing, then take a break

I think I'm getting the hang of doing nothing. Really, it's not so bad. And I'm not even on drugs.

What I have been doing:

• Eating
• Wandering around the house poking things with my toe that I can't pick up
• Watching the Red Sox via computer
• Teaching Robin to knit
• Wiping the counters -- I really like clean counters
• Making stuff to eat
• Un-hibernating the tweedy sweater. I had to relearn the pattern, remember where I made the mistake so I could re-create it on the next section, and dive in again. Very gratifying.
• Trying to remember which eye drop I just used
• Doing the daily Sudoku
• Presented a PowerPoint research analysis to the Museum Board from my bed
• Snacking
• Pointing at things for Henry to pick up
• Wandering around the back deck
• Looking for stuff to eat in the fridge

Don't you envy me, just a little bit?

Enforced nothingness

So due to circumstances that are NOT MY FAULT, I'm now on doctor-prescribed bedrest to maintain a stable state of eye.

Last week's surgery to relieve my eye pressure worked a little too well, and my eye now resembles a slowly deflating water balloon. That makes it vulnerable to bursting blood vessels and other gross stuff, so now I'm on hourly drops and the no-stress-no-strain unactivity plan. I feel totally fine, we're still stocked up from the Unitarian casserole brigade and Henry is remarkably self-sufficient, so here I recline.

A confession: I've always envied people on enforced bedrest. It sounded so lovely to this stressed-out and slightly compulsive working mom. A nice stretch of not doing anything and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I'd be entitled to read, knit, watch movies, get people to bring me stuff, surf the interwebs, etc. But here I am on the first morning of it and I'm antsy and restless, of course. 

One problem is that I'm congenitally incapable of watching TV during daylight hours. (Exception: baseball.) I just can't bring myself to do it. It's just a short step from that to 500 pounds and a crane hauling me out of my bedroom window. So that option (which includes movies) is out. NPR, podcasts and audiobooks are better, but that's because I normally do something useful while listening. However, talking heads do start to drone after awhile. And local radio = no good.

Not that I consider myself energetic, believe me. I don't chomp at the bit to hike/bike/climb/ski stuff like most of my friends (who are all a little tightly wired IMHO). I'm known more for hanging out at home: knitting little morsels, solving sudokus, creating recipes, digging in the garden, fixing endless broken crap, wrangling the pets and haranguing the child. High-energy puttering, my old roommate called it. I even meditate for crying out loud. However, now that I'm parked on the reclining side of the coin only, it chafes.

Clearly I need more practice.

the view from the head of the bed

Drop by drop by drop (by drop by drop)

Spud.

I'm primarily a perennials gardener. I never fall for the "color spot" annuals and don't specialize in roses or lilies or begonias, in spite of my horticultural heritage. I've also never gotten serious about vegetables.

To get good veggie results in Central Oregon you have to dedicate your spring to babying seeds and starts in a greenhouse, setting up walls'o'water, running out to protect crops from frost in August, and  fighting off the birds and bugs. It's a very short season and doesn't seem worth it to me.

However, in the past I have produced some tomatoes, a pumpkin, two eggplants and bushels of parsley and mint, which appear to be my specialty. (I also try and fail every year to grow arugula - it's a mythic struggle.) But today I can raise my head proudly and declare myself a farmer: I have grown a potato.

I don't actually remember planting potatoes, but occasionally when one starts to sprout in the vegetable bin I take it out and stick it in the ground. While harvesting parsley this morning, I pulled up what I thought was a weed and found a small red potato at the other end. 

I can't describe the awe and pride I felt when I held it up. Any suburbanite can grow tomatoes and zucchini, but to produce a potato seems like an authentic farmer-type accomplishment.

I think I'll steam it in a (tiny) pan and eat it with butter and salt and pepper.

Note to Kathi D.: no need to be flaunting your Cali harvest abbondanza - we're talking high desert here!

The local news: "It's all happy endings here!"

What is with the Bend Bulletin and its happy animal news?? 

You may remember last week's lead article on Buster the dog being returned to his owner.

This week there's the lost llama (found healthy after a 14-day search) and a recovering deer (arrow wound, not too surprising in hunting country).

Hey, I'm a true animal lover and these stories warm my cynical little heart, but are they really FRONT PAGE HEADLINE NEWS?

(By the way, Tina's dead deer story, not having a happy ending, was relegated to the bottom right, though still apparently front page stuff.)

Friday frylet: the neighbors

I have such great neighbors. This week they've watched Henry, mowed the lawn, brought over casseroles, and checked in on me daily.

They're definitely looking out for me.  Kinda furry, though.