BC Awareness

Wearing pink and a pair of jeans is apparently on the docket for many Americans tomorrow, myself included. It's officially Lee National Denim Day for Breast Cancer Awareness. I'm not a big band-wagon jumper, but when I see that they are looking to make more effective, less toxic breast cancer treatments, develop blood tests for earlier detection, and create resources to educate patients and families about new options, I threw my Abe Lincoln in the bag and picked up a pink pin. I'll be wearing jeans and a pink sweater tomorrow, because one in eight women is a lot and I or someone I love could be next.

Here's to keeping the girls healthy and beautiful! : )

Update

Still sick. Still in the red for office sick days available. Still working.

At least it's air conditioned!

(picture of my sick bed)

Bunnies Help Make It Better

Seems that on a day like today when I'm not feeling my best (swollen eyelid, sore throat, stiff neck) bunnies help me to relax and laugh and feel better. Why bunnies? I don't know. I just don't know... (I would leave work and go home and pamper myself except that I'm over my available sick hours by thirty minutes)

Senility Now!

You know those moments when you are walking into a room and sudenly have no friggin clue why you're there? Or someone you see daily, whose name you should know, has just entirely abandoned you as you begin an introduction? Me too. In fact, I have those moments on a regular basis. Truth be told, if you wonder why I blog it is probably owing partly to my rapidly evaporating short-term memory pool.

In order to cope with my early-life senility I have devised various elaborate mechanisms to help me remember important things and events. There is first-off "The Vague Notion." The VN is a critical element in my ability to foresee the immediate future. A certain feeling of dread or anticipation proceeds important events and allows me to continuously remind myself of things I need to do in order to make that event a success. This only works, however, if the event causes great trepidation or great anticipation. If a strong emotion anchors the upcoming event, I am times more likely to remember it at regular intervals.

This doesn't work for say, returning movies to the library or getting to work early for a departmental meeting. For these, less awe-inspiring events, I require something a little less subtle: "The Electronic Reminder." The ER consists of either calendar reminders, email reminders or alarms on my cell phone that go off at strategic times throughout the day. These ensure that the uninspiring deadlines of my life are not completely overlooked. [NOTE: this method has been known to fail. The VN is a much more reliable method of memory-recall.]

The last memory aide, but hardly the least is "The Hand Mark." Also known affectionately as the washable billboard or the scrawl spot. (My boyfriend is not a fan of this method. He would prefer I didn't write on my hands and I sympathize, I really do.) Short-term deadlines require short-term messages written on the back of the hand and later washed off after too many trips to the ladies' room. Often this method is used when dealing with small events; usually interpersonal. Friends, family, colleagues to whom I owe a note, a call, a fiver, etc. If I was reminded to bring a pickle tray to a dinner, for instance, I will jot down "pkle" on the back of the left hand. I try to keep it short. Fewest letters possible. Or, if the reminder is to bring the camera over to my sister's house so that she can take a picture of her family to give to the relatives of her Ethiopian daughters,' I will jot down "cam." If the need to call a friend about her wedding arises during the middle of a busy work day (in case you haven't noticed yet, today is not one of them), I make an HM of the first three letters of her name.

This covers most of the bases for my memory lapses. But there is a territory that no device seems to penetrate. No aide can permeate this forgetful recess in my mind, and that is the chasm known as the "Slippery Fish Zone." This treacherous terrain of my brain eludes all attempts to recall bits of information. Once an event, date, name or idea is lost inside the SFZ, I will never see it again. I've lost perfectly good childhood memories in there and have lost countless arguments as well, because I can't remember the exact anything that is being talked about. This causes me concern. Not so much because it stinks to lose an argument or a childhood memory, but because I'm terrified of getting older with this memory grave already dug to such depths in my head. If I'm not yet thirty and so much information can get swallowed up in this sink-hole, what will I act like when I'm antique?

I guess it really doesn't matter. Once I lose half my memories, I can do what other old people do and start making them up! This actually sounds like a lot of fun and I will entertain and confuse my family with the tall tales I'll be telling from the rocking chair. Win win!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I had something to do... what was it?

(picture courtesy of a production of Driving Miss Daisy)

Favorite Pillow?

What is your favorite pillow? What's it made of? Why is it your favorite? Do you covet a different type of pillow? If so, what kind?

I guess I really should talk about my own...

Pillows and I have a love/hate relationship. I either want a ton of them or I don't want any at all. I'd rather have a thin, little flat pillow than a huge puffy one, but then I roll the flat one up into a tube and stick it under my cheek (sleeping on the side). Or a larger pillow is nice just on top of my forehead (sleeping on the back) to keep my head from falling over and giving me a place to put my arms. Now, I am very curious to try this particular pillow as it looks terribly fascinating! I wonder if it's actually any good or one of those things you pay a heap for only to leave on the bed a week and then banish to a closet unused.

As to pillow ingredients, since I do not suffer from any tricky allergies (other than dust and cats) I can sleep on just about everything, but down pillows drive me nuts, they never seem to sink into a stable position.

Yoga Youngster

If you'd like to see a six year old pull off those harder yoga positions then go here and then like me you'll be saying, "Yeah, right, when I was six, I coulda pulled that half-moon, full twist, tree eagle, too!"

Monday Mayhem

Weird. You ever wake up and find things have moved around you without you having any recollection of moving them? This morning when I finally awoke, my bedside table clock was on the covers beside me and the lid on my chapstick was off and the chapstick was standing vertically on the table. I don't remember completing any of those actions.

Not as good, apparently, as a co-worker who on Friday woke up wearing a completely different outfit than the one she went to bed in.

Has this ever happened to you? Are these the early stages of sleep walking?

twiTch

I have a new ailment that amuses me no end: twitching. My eyelid twitches. Not constantly. Only occasionally. But it is rather amusing to try to have a serious conversation when one eye is in convulsions. I try not to laugh. Maybe the other person will thinking I'm winking repeatedly very quickly.

[UPDATE: my twiTch is hiding from me. It spasms all day, at various times, but NEVER when I am looking in a mirror. I've tried to catch it working it's twitchy magic on my face, but no matter how spasmodically it was tweaking my eyelid, the instant I stare at it it becomes calm as the dead sea! It's laughing at me. That or I have a very calming effect on myself...]

Vitamin C not for me?

I am not sure if this is even possible, but I've noticed I get a rash every time I get a cold and take large amounts of Vitamin C.

Coincidence? The internet thinks not.

Cold Eeze and the Smells We Love

OK, now I'm worried...

I better get my smell back after this cold dies down!

Every Woman's Nightmare

I squirmed reading this. Another great reason for multi-party government.

Cures the Cold

Guess what's curing the common cold these days. There's a winning pick up line in there somewhere, I can feel it!

Watermelon Cocoa and Bus Breath

You ever have one of those grumpy days where you start out grumpy and very little occurs outside of yourself to change the grump factor? It's one of those days for me. I try to ride low when this happens and keep my head down. "It'll pass" is my favorite motto on days like this one. Of course, I still hold out hope that in about twenty minutes things around me will suddenly turn to sunshine and roses and pull me (even unwillingly) from my duldrums. But as of yet, it hasn't happened. (It's not a necessity, either. Just it would be nice...)

I have two major complaints of the morning and I'd like to share them with you so you can be on the look out. I'm here for you, sharing my wisdom so you don't have to.

1) Bus breath. If you get on a bus and the person behind, beside, before or around you is both a smoker and a cold sufferer, switch seats. If you think smoker's breath is bad, try mixing it with cold breath. It is the most horrendously ungodly combination of odors and since you can't open a window on a bus in winter and you're unlikely to breathe fresh air for some time, get away from the stench. Seriously. Let them be offended. Just go. I sat for ten minutes like an idiot with my scarf around my face trying to "thin out" the smell. Didn't work. Would have been a lot happier if I'd just moved. And the smell always increased exponentially when the man behind me rolled out a juicy cough. I almost vomited, but just managed to keep it in. Dangerous. Just dangerous.

2) Watermelon cocoa. Don't let it happen to you. Just because someone gives you a red and white striped candy cane doesn't mean it tastes like peppermint. I wrecked a perfectly good cup of hot cocoa by stirring in what I thought was a peppermint candy cane. You know how you get yourself all set to taste one thing and then it ends of being something completely different and your brain just can't wrap itself around the puzzle of what is going on? Yeah, that was me five minutes ago. And just for the record, watermelon and chocolate aren't that great together. Seriously. It kinda sucks.

Anyways, hope your day is going better than mine. Don't eat the yellow snow and if you're lucky enough to have sunshine and 50 degree weather please don't complain about it here. I just don't wanna hear what kind of Hawaiian print shirt you'll be wearing to the office Christmas Luau party.

Helpful Holiday Eating Advice

1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. Like in single-malt scotch, it's rare. In fact, it's even rarer than single-malt scotch. You can't find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnog-aholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think. It's Christmas!

3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.

5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or, if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards!

10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Reread tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner. ENJOY!

I thought this was a joke...

But it wasn't. And apparently this girl's gotten too much publicity and was probably nominated for a suicide watch so she went into hiding.

There are whole gigantic web communities devoted to encouraging themselves and others to starve and be underweight and malnourished. Most, by their own admission, use it as a form of control for emotional pain that, obviously, cannot be controlled in this way. Most are teens although there are several blogs from "older" women in their twenties and thirties who claim that they can't give it up. New word for the day: "Thinspiration."

Ah, The Decadent 90's!

Into the Valley of Dent

I cross my fingers and go bravely to the dentist.
Wish me luck!

root canal = act on oral

Straight Talk From The Onion

Women Have To Stop Starving Themselves Past The Point Of Hotness

Toothcapades

I picked the place out of a hat. Well, I might as well have. It was the dentist office nearest to my house as close as I could figure and their tagline was something like 'we cater to cowards' or whatever. Not that I care about that. I'm not afraid of dentists, or drills, or needles. I don't really care. I just want to walk away looking the same or better than I did walking in.

I had an early appointment. I parked and ran inside the converted house/office. The woman at the front desk told me to move my car. I did. When I came back she was gone and I stood at the front desk as the doctors filed in with the casual disdain adopted by most doctors. I had a good feeling already.

The woman returned and passed me the usual clipboard which says I give them permission to use my records if a natural disaster hits the area or if I'm mauled badly in a horrible life altering accident or something to that affect. On the patient form it asked, "What would you like us to know about you?" To which I responded, "I would like to keep my teeth for awhile longer." Then it asked, "What do you think is an important trait in a dentist?" I said, "Not assuming my mouth is their property."

I was taken to a waiting room to get my x-rays. The assistant proceeded take the wrong ones. I sat looking at the round mirror on the ceiling thinking, 'That surely puts my mind at ease.'

After the x-rays they shuffled me off to another barely partitioned area. As I sat on the reclining chair I remembered for a moment that the electric chair was invented by a dentist. Then I saw the sign posted in big red letters just outside the window:

Again, not really helping to create a sense of ease or calm. The assistant came running in and out asking if I was sure which of my teeth it was that was causing problems. I kept my headphones on so I could better ignore her. Much hubbub later she realized she was looking at the wrong tooth and finally my prognosis was handed down: I had a dying nerve. My tooth was going to be dead. According to them, quite soon. I tried to take in this information. They rushed me back to the woman at the front desk. Up to this point I had failed to realize how much she looked like a women's volleyball coach.

"We here at (name withheld) Dental believe in creating a relationship with our patients." She began, "We believe in earning trust..." I looked off into the room full of people who were about to hear my ailment, my financial situation and future tooth plans and wondered where this trust was supposed to be coming from. "Now here's what's going to happen: We need to schedule a root canal. After that we'll put a crown on the tooth. Now since you don't have insurance we can try to work out a payment plan..."

I interrupted, "I'm sorry, could you explain what a root canal is?"

She looked a little disgusted and said, "I'll explain everything in just a moment." She rolled her chair towards me and between my legs. "I'm going to show you something." She hoisted her muscular body over me and opening her mouth she inserted her finger into her gaping maw and said, "Shee ziss? Ahn ziss?" She closed her mouth again, "Those are all crowns. I never floss. I'm terrible role model I know, but I got all that work done here. We only use precious metals. We believe in the highest quality work."

I cast an eye towards the waiting room full of patients watching this eerie spectacle. One woman looked up and gave me a faint pitying smile. I sighed. The walrus with the french braid was still going on about procedure and protocols. I cut to the chase.

"How long can I expect this thing last?"

She smiled all-knowingly. "Some of the crowns I have in my mouth I got 'em 25 years ago."

I didn't bother asking about the rest of them. I shelled out the cash and left.

Later that day I returned and picked up my x-rays (much to the receptionist's dismay). I have since made an appointment with someone else. One who knows what he is doing. Thank God for second opinions!

I won't be going back to the dental shop of the devil, but if you want to know of a great dentist in Cleveland then just ask me. I do know the man for the job.