An important message from Consumer Reports
6 years ago
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Target
I don't know if I'll be patronizing Target much anymore. I prefer them vastly to Wal-Mart, but they have no selection whatsoever of women's underwear above average size. No where. At all.
Dealing with Death
I've been fortunate in that I haven't faced much death in my life. There was the possibility my grandfather would die when he had a heart attack (and subsequent quadruple-bypass surgery) over a decade ago, but that's the closest I've been. I lost three great-grandparents, a great-great-grandfather, and a step-grandmother before I was ten years old, but not having spent much time with them, it didn't affect me much. Two of them had died before I was even two years old.
In high school the mother of a girl I'd known for most of my childhood died from breast cancer. I'd known her mother, too, for a long time because I was in Girl Scouts with the daughter, and the mother helped out a lot. My mother and I both went to the wake and the funeral, as well as the burial.
Also in high school, a teacher I'd had in grade school died of a heart attack. I hadn't known her very well but I'd liked her, so I attended the funeral, as did numerous other former students of hers.
This past week I stopped by my former workplace to say hi to a friend, and he updated me on the health of another friend's wife. I found out early this past year (after having worked with M for almost a year) that M's wife had breast cancer. It explained a whole hell of a lot that I hadn't understood about him before and it also made me see him in a different light. M and his wife have two little boys, one five and the other three; it was after the birth of the younger boy that they discovered the cancer.
Back in May or so M's wife became ill again, likely from complications, though he never told me that. I think he was afraid, and rightly so. He was working two jobs to make ends meet and I knew he felt that he didn't have enough time for his family. It was a catch-22: either he could continue working just one job and not be able to provide for his family (the wife had stopped working), or he could keep working both and never see his family except on weekends.
Anyway, when I stopped by the store the friend, S, told me M's wife was doing very poorly and was only expected to have days left. And I was expecting the call that came today from S, informing me of visitation/funeral times and places. DH and I will attend the visitation tomorrow and I may attend the funeral Monday on my own (DH is working) if I can.
I feel so awkward in these situations precisely because of my lack of experience with them. I don't know what to do or what to say, but I know that just being there is usually enough. It's an awful time to be alone. I want M to know that he's not alone.
In high school the mother of a girl I'd known for most of my childhood died from breast cancer. I'd known her mother, too, for a long time because I was in Girl Scouts with the daughter, and the mother helped out a lot. My mother and I both went to the wake and the funeral, as well as the burial.
Also in high school, a teacher I'd had in grade school died of a heart attack. I hadn't known her very well but I'd liked her, so I attended the funeral, as did numerous other former students of hers.
This past week I stopped by my former workplace to say hi to a friend, and he updated me on the health of another friend's wife. I found out early this past year (after having worked with M for almost a year) that M's wife had breast cancer. It explained a whole hell of a lot that I hadn't understood about him before and it also made me see him in a different light. M and his wife have two little boys, one five and the other three; it was after the birth of the younger boy that they discovered the cancer.
Back in May or so M's wife became ill again, likely from complications, though he never told me that. I think he was afraid, and rightly so. He was working two jobs to make ends meet and I knew he felt that he didn't have enough time for his family. It was a catch-22: either he could continue working just one job and not be able to provide for his family (the wife had stopped working), or he could keep working both and never see his family except on weekends.
Anyway, when I stopped by the store the friend, S, told me M's wife was doing very poorly and was only expected to have days left. And I was expecting the call that came today from S, informing me of visitation/funeral times and places. DH and I will attend the visitation tomorrow and I may attend the funeral Monday on my own (DH is working) if I can.
I feel so awkward in these situations precisely because of my lack of experience with them. I don't know what to do or what to say, but I know that just being there is usually enough. It's an awful time to be alone. I want M to know that he's not alone.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Roasted Chicken and Chicken Noodle Soup
I've done this before and figured I'd try it again. Only thing I'm worried about is that the bird has been in our freezer since last year (sell by date was November) and it's been in the fridge for a week. It smelled a bit funky but a good rinsing appears to have done away with that.
Anyway, here's how I did it (warning, I did this all by eye, no measurements for the most part):
Preheat oven to 350. I followed the instructions on the bag the chicken was in, which says that for a 5 to 6 pound chicken it needs to be cooked for 1 3/4 - 2 1/4 hours, with an additional 20 to 30 minutes for each pound more. Mine is almost five pounds. It also has one of those spifftacular pop-up thermometers, but I'll be keeping an eye on it anyway. First round was 90 minutes before I checked on it.
I liberally salted and peppered the outside of the bird, as well as sprinkling it with rosemary. I stuffed some chopped garlic and bay leaves in the cavity. No trussing, as we're not sophisticated enough to have kitchen twine. I put it in a sautee pan (see what I mean? We're poor and bought what we could) and shoved it into the oven.
Meanwhile, I chopped up carrots and celery. I let those sit to room temperature while I waited for the chicken to finish cooking (took about two hours). I let that cool down so I could handle picking the chicken apart.
I sauteed garlic, carrots, and celery with butter in a stockpot, then added five cups of water. A liberal bit of chicken boullion since I realized we didn't have any chicken stock or broth. Ended up putting a bit too much in, so it got a peeled potato (an old kitchen trick, the potato absorbs some of the saltiness). I shredded the chicken into the pot, all white meat since that's what I prefer, and DH can pick off what he wants of the dark meat since that's his favorite.
After that, I dumped some uncooked egg noodles in, and ended up needing to add some water back. The water reduced enough that there's not much broth except in the bottom of the pot.
Turned out damn good, if I do say so myself. As for the chicken carcass? It's getting turned into stock tomorrow.
Anyway, here's how I did it (warning, I did this all by eye, no measurements for the most part):
Preheat oven to 350. I followed the instructions on the bag the chicken was in, which says that for a 5 to 6 pound chicken it needs to be cooked for 1 3/4 - 2 1/4 hours, with an additional 20 to 30 minutes for each pound more. Mine is almost five pounds. It also has one of those spifftacular pop-up thermometers, but I'll be keeping an eye on it anyway. First round was 90 minutes before I checked on it.
I liberally salted and peppered the outside of the bird, as well as sprinkling it with rosemary. I stuffed some chopped garlic and bay leaves in the cavity. No trussing, as we're not sophisticated enough to have kitchen twine. I put it in a sautee pan (see what I mean? We're poor and bought what we could) and shoved it into the oven.
Meanwhile, I chopped up carrots and celery. I let those sit to room temperature while I waited for the chicken to finish cooking (took about two hours). I let that cool down so I could handle picking the chicken apart.
I sauteed garlic, carrots, and celery with butter in a stockpot, then added five cups of water. A liberal bit of chicken boullion since I realized we didn't have any chicken stock or broth. Ended up putting a bit too much in, so it got a peeled potato (an old kitchen trick, the potato absorbs some of the saltiness). I shredded the chicken into the pot, all white meat since that's what I prefer, and DH can pick off what he wants of the dark meat since that's his favorite.
After that, I dumped some uncooked egg noodles in, and ended up needing to add some water back. The water reduced enough that there's not much broth except in the bottom of the pot.
Turned out damn good, if I do say so myself. As for the chicken carcass? It's getting turned into stock tomorrow.
Finished Objects
Okay, well, this one's a semi-finished object, only because it's one of a pair.
I finally finished one of my Natalya mitts.
I finally finished one of my Natalya mitts.
Money sucks
This week started out shitty. Didn't get much better.
Monday morning, DH calls me up while he's working. Neither of us had noticed that his license plate tags had expired in July. We both thought he'd gotten two-year tags but apparently not. Of course, we still hadn't paid our personal property taxes (fuck you, Missouri, DIAF), and with me out of work for now we couldn't afford it. We ended up having to borrow the money from his parents; they also gave us the money for both inspections (safety and emissions (again, fuck you, Missouri).
His PPT (based on the value of his truck) was over $300 (after all the late fees, which actually aren't that much).
Check gets deposited Tuesday, DH goes and pays the PPT on Wednesday morning, and then has an appointment for the inspections.
His truck doesn't pass. It needs new rotors, new brakes, and a new shock in the back. Total damage? $463. Again, we have no money, and we've already asked his parents for help (plus we're pulling on my mom). He calls his parents, who are out of town, and after some haggling they agree to put it on a credit card, and we'll pay them back.
I hope to Moses that the rule of threes passes quietly by.
Monday morning, DH calls me up while he's working. Neither of us had noticed that his license plate tags had expired in July. We both thought he'd gotten two-year tags but apparently not. Of course, we still hadn't paid our personal property taxes (fuck you, Missouri, DIAF), and with me out of work for now we couldn't afford it. We ended up having to borrow the money from his parents; they also gave us the money for both inspections (safety and emissions (again, fuck you, Missouri).
His PPT (based on the value of his truck) was over $300 (after all the late fees, which actually aren't that much).
Check gets deposited Tuesday, DH goes and pays the PPT on Wednesday morning, and then has an appointment for the inspections.
His truck doesn't pass. It needs new rotors, new brakes, and a new shock in the back. Total damage? $463. Again, we have no money, and we've already asked his parents for help (plus we're pulling on my mom). He calls his parents, who are out of town, and after some haggling they agree to put it on a credit card, and we'll pay them back.
I hope to Moses that the rule of threes passes quietly by.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Knitting update
Working on this pattern currently, with this yarn.
It's not a complicated pattern, though I'm hoping that when finished and blocked it'll look better than it does on the needles. Cos nothing every looks good on the needles.
I need to stop being a lazy bum and finish the second Natalya gauntlet. It's not that it's hard, it's just that, yeah, I'm lazy. This project is being made with Patons Classic Merino Wool in black. I think I might do a pair of Knucks with the leftover yarn; what can I say, I like black? Might embroider the fingers with "NERD CORE."
I also need to update my progress of Lady Eleanor on Ravelry. That's another one I've let go, though I'd picked up on it for a while a few months ago.
Obviously, I'm fickle and lose interest easily.
It's not a complicated pattern, though I'm hoping that when finished and blocked it'll look better than it does on the needles. Cos nothing every looks good on the needles.
I need to stop being a lazy bum and finish the second Natalya gauntlet. It's not that it's hard, it's just that, yeah, I'm lazy. This project is being made with Patons Classic Merino Wool in black. I think I might do a pair of Knucks with the leftover yarn; what can I say, I like black? Might embroider the fingers with "NERD CORE."
I also need to update my progress of Lady Eleanor on Ravelry. That's another one I've let go, though I'd picked up on it for a while a few months ago.
Obviously, I'm fickle and lose interest easily.
WTH
So I'm reading celebrity news, checking out photos and this one pops up:
My first thought is: why the hell is there a photo of my BIL on celebrity sites? Cos he looks an awful lot like my BIL.
And then I find out that it's Bono. Y'know, this dude:
Yeah, not really what I was expecting.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Should rapists receive the death penalty?
I'm going to start by answering the question: No.
I understand the motivation behind the movement, I really do. It's a human, visceral reaction to an abhorrent crime that should never happen, even more so when the victim of said crime is a child. It's hard to control that reaction. We don't want to think of a defenseless child ever enduring such a horrible experience (which more often than not is perpetrated on them by someone they're supposed to be able to trust).
I disagree with the movement for one reason: if a rapist knows that the penalty is execution, what will stop them from just going the extra step and killing the victim? Murder the victim and there's a window of opportunity for escape from being caught and convicted; if your victim is dead they can't point the finger, can they?
I've heard the term "soul murder" applied to those who are victim of violent crimes, and certainly rape is violent, even in cases where there is no physical abuse. You don't need to be bruised and bleeding in order to be traumatized. It's something that does kill a part of the victim, usually their innocence, their hope, or their sense of self-worth.
And I say no because I am a victim of repeated acts of rape. My mother's husband began sexually abusing me when I was 13 and had begun developing the body of a woman (making him an ephebophile; he'd already begun abusing me in other ways before I was a "woman grown"). Certainly there was the risk of him being caught, which he eventually was, but he didn't fear for his life and in turn, I didn't need to fear for mine.
Can you imagine being in that situation and knowing that the person raping you could just as easily kill you? It's a terrible situation, certainly, but I'd much rather be alive and able to heal than dead and unable to do anything at all. And of course my family and friends would have had to mourn me instead of being able to surround me and support me, able to enjoy the rest of my life with them.
Do I think punishments for rapists (child rapists and otherwise) should be harsher? Sure. I think the Sex Offender Registry is a joke: if these people need to be monitored after they're released from prison to prevent recidivism, they shouldn't be released in the first place. Some can be rehabilitated and become productive members of society, and if they re-offend they can just as easily be tracked by their criminal record through police databases. The convicts that can't be rehabilitated, however, should remain imprisoned until they die.
A knee-jerk reaction to an awful crime doesn't do the victim any good.
I understand the motivation behind the movement, I really do. It's a human, visceral reaction to an abhorrent crime that should never happen, even more so when the victim of said crime is a child. It's hard to control that reaction. We don't want to think of a defenseless child ever enduring such a horrible experience (which more often than not is perpetrated on them by someone they're supposed to be able to trust).
I disagree with the movement for one reason: if a rapist knows that the penalty is execution, what will stop them from just going the extra step and killing the victim? Murder the victim and there's a window of opportunity for escape from being caught and convicted; if your victim is dead they can't point the finger, can they?
I've heard the term "soul murder" applied to those who are victim of violent crimes, and certainly rape is violent, even in cases where there is no physical abuse. You don't need to be bruised and bleeding in order to be traumatized. It's something that does kill a part of the victim, usually their innocence, their hope, or their sense of self-worth.
And I say no because I am a victim of repeated acts of rape. My mother's husband began sexually abusing me when I was 13 and had begun developing the body of a woman (making him an ephebophile; he'd already begun abusing me in other ways before I was a "woman grown"). Certainly there was the risk of him being caught, which he eventually was, but he didn't fear for his life and in turn, I didn't need to fear for mine.
Can you imagine being in that situation and knowing that the person raping you could just as easily kill you? It's a terrible situation, certainly, but I'd much rather be alive and able to heal than dead and unable to do anything at all. And of course my family and friends would have had to mourn me instead of being able to surround me and support me, able to enjoy the rest of my life with them.
Do I think punishments for rapists (child rapists and otherwise) should be harsher? Sure. I think the Sex Offender Registry is a joke: if these people need to be monitored after they're released from prison to prevent recidivism, they shouldn't be released in the first place. Some can be rehabilitated and become productive members of society, and if they re-offend they can just as easily be tracked by their criminal record through police databases. The convicts that can't be rehabilitated, however, should remain imprisoned until they die.
A knee-jerk reaction to an awful crime doesn't do the victim any good.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Elizabeth Hasslebeck ... Again
This woman just needs to sit down and shut up. It's obvious she has no clue.
In Soviet Russia, harassment sexuals you
So sorry for that joke, I know it sucked. I couldn't think of anything better.
Apparently in Russia, sexual harassment in the workplace is okay because "If we had no sexual harassment we would have no children." Yeah, the judge actually said that.
Only two women have been able to successfully sue their employers over sexual harassment claims.
Women also report that it is common to be browbeaten into sex during job interviews, while female students regularly complain that university professors trade high marks for sexual favours.
Apparently in Russia, sexual harassment in the workplace is okay because "If we had no sexual harassment we would have no children." Yeah, the judge actually said that.
Only two women have been able to successfully sue their employers over sexual harassment claims.
Women also report that it is common to be browbeaten into sex during job interviews, while female students regularly complain that university professors trade high marks for sexual favours.
Friday, June 27, 2008
What's this?
I quit my job as a barista a week ago. Well, it'll be a week ago tomorrow afternoon.
My symptoms, all of them (pain, fatigue, nausea, headaches, etc.) just keep getting worse and more unpredictable. If I knew when they would strike I'd at least be a little less anxious, but they hit whenever they feel like it.
Of course, this has to happen right around the time I find out I've lost my insurance through work. By 2.75 hours, because my manager was a dickhead. He knows I was struggling to meet my hours and still screwed me over. Cue panic attacks.
And then last week I saw a new endocrinologist. She's stymied as to why my last endo thought it would be a good idea to leave a small nodule (a malignant nodule, even!) in my neck. So I need to see if a surgeon thinks that's viable, and of course can't do jack-shit about it until I have insurance again. Also can't see any specialists until I have insurance again.
I'm also trying to find a new job but I'm hitting the wall. A clerical job seems like a good idea at first, mostly because I'd likely be off my feet for most of the time, but I can't multi-task. Some days I can barely speak the English language. I have trouble concentrating and even walking straight sometimes.
My only hope there is checking out vocational rehab in my area, and seeing if they can point me in the right direction. From there it might be on to filing for disability. Who knows at this point?
My symptoms, all of them (pain, fatigue, nausea, headaches, etc.) just keep getting worse and more unpredictable. If I knew when they would strike I'd at least be a little less anxious, but they hit whenever they feel like it.
Of course, this has to happen right around the time I find out I've lost my insurance through work. By 2.75 hours, because my manager was a dickhead. He knows I was struggling to meet my hours and still screwed me over. Cue panic attacks.
And then last week I saw a new endocrinologist. She's stymied as to why my last endo thought it would be a good idea to leave a small nodule (a malignant nodule, even!) in my neck. So I need to see if a surgeon thinks that's viable, and of course can't do jack-shit about it until I have insurance again. Also can't see any specialists until I have insurance again.
I'm also trying to find a new job but I'm hitting the wall. A clerical job seems like a good idea at first, mostly because I'd likely be off my feet for most of the time, but I can't multi-task. Some days I can barely speak the English language. I have trouble concentrating and even walking straight sometimes.
My only hope there is checking out vocational rehab in my area, and seeing if they can point me in the right direction. From there it might be on to filing for disability. Who knows at this point?
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Dear Cymbalta ...
I know my doctor warned me about missing a dose, but do you have to be this brutal?
I was up nearly all night with horrible, frightening, disjointed dreams. And I already have weird dreams to begin with, so was this really necessary?
And then the stomach issues. Really didn't feel like spending most of my afternoon/evening in the bathroom.
I was up nearly all night with horrible, frightening, disjointed dreams. And I already have weird dreams to begin with, so was this really necessary?
And then the stomach issues. Really didn't feel like spending most of my afternoon/evening in the bathroom.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Hang your head in shame, Ang Lee
2003's Hulk got totally schooled by this year's The Incredible Hulk. And this is coming from someone who's never liked the Hulk character.
Also, I confess that, as a child, I was scared to death of Lou Ferrigno in the green makeup. I went so far as to refuse to watch the episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood where Mr. Rogers visited the set of the Incredible Hulk TV show, and the viewer got to see Lou getting painted up.
So. With the first Hulk movie, I went in with very low expectations. Remember, I didn't much care for the character, but I like comics and action movies, so I gave it a go. I didn't believe it was possible for a movie I had such low expectations for to go below those expectations. It was like watching something floundering in a tar pit millions of years ago, every twitch and panicked movement causing it to sink deeper and deeper.
Imagine my surprise when just the previews for the new Hulk movie had me excited. Not just interested, but damned pumped to see it (no, has nothing at all to do with a tiny cameo by Tony Stark *cough*), and that was unusual.
The movie made me start to like Ed Norton, who has always bothered me for some reason. He's an excellent actor, no doubt, but something just bugged me. He pulled off the angst and the frustration and characterization perfectly.
Liv Tyler managed not to fuck this one up (still angry about LotR), and she played a good Betty Ross.
The bad guy was suitably creepy, and watching what happened to him after just a small dose of what Bruce Banner got was really amazing. He really was a super soldier.
And as much as I really don't care for the Avengers (never liked Cap), I'm excited about what's in the future.
Marvel gets a thumbs-up for this one. If Wolverine can be as good as Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk, I'll be a happy fangirl.
Also, I confess that, as a child, I was scared to death of Lou Ferrigno in the green makeup. I went so far as to refuse to watch the episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood where Mr. Rogers visited the set of the Incredible Hulk TV show, and the viewer got to see Lou getting painted up.
So. With the first Hulk movie, I went in with very low expectations. Remember, I didn't much care for the character, but I like comics and action movies, so I gave it a go. I didn't believe it was possible for a movie I had such low expectations for to go below those expectations. It was like watching something floundering in a tar pit millions of years ago, every twitch and panicked movement causing it to sink deeper and deeper.
Imagine my surprise when just the previews for the new Hulk movie had me excited. Not just interested, but damned pumped to see it (no, has nothing at all to do with a tiny cameo by Tony Stark *cough*), and that was unusual.
The movie made me start to like Ed Norton, who has always bothered me for some reason. He's an excellent actor, no doubt, but something just bugged me. He pulled off the angst and the frustration and characterization perfectly.
Liv Tyler managed not to fuck this one up (still angry about LotR), and she played a good Betty Ross.
The bad guy was suitably creepy, and watching what happened to him after just a small dose of what Bruce Banner got was really amazing. He really was a super soldier.
And as much as I really don't care for the Avengers (never liked Cap), I'm excited about what's in the future.
Marvel gets a thumbs-up for this one. If Wolverine can be as good as Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk, I'll be a happy fangirl.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Intentions
When I first set up this blog, I was all gung-ho to do research and write cool articles.
Dude, that's why I'm not in school anymore. And why on earth would and extreme introvert want tons of traffic and conversations? I really don't want to put myself in that spotlight.
Dude, that's why I'm not in school anymore. And why on earth would and extreme introvert want tons of traffic and conversations? I really don't want to put myself in that spotlight.
Indiana Jones disappointment
Urban Dictionary has a great definition for why Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull sucked so badly.
Well, y'know, that and the frackin' aliens.
Well, y'know, that and the frackin' aliens.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sickness
I'm currently battling a cold. Probably the worse illness known to man, if only because you can't do a goddamned thing about it. Plenty of fluids. Don't kiss people. Keep things clean.
I guess I wouldn't feel like such complete and utter cat poo if I didn't have CFS and FM to deal with on a daily basis. My fatigue and weakness are at about an eight level right now (ten being the worst). Doesn't matter what or how much I eat, they're both high.
And I'm not looking forward to the next few days. I have two work the next two, then go to my brother's Confirmation on Sunday, which means no sleeping in. Then more work next week. Then graduations and parties to attend. Then more work, and no sleeping in. Then traveling for a couple days. More no sleeping in.
No wonder I'm sleeping so much during the day.
I guess I wouldn't feel like such complete and utter cat poo if I didn't have CFS and FM to deal with on a daily basis. My fatigue and weakness are at about an eight level right now (ten being the worst). Doesn't matter what or how much I eat, they're both high.
And I'm not looking forward to the next few days. I have two work the next two, then go to my brother's Confirmation on Sunday, which means no sleeping in. Then more work next week. Then graduations and parties to attend. Then more work, and no sleeping in. Then traveling for a couple days. More no sleeping in.
No wonder I'm sleeping so much during the day.
Hmmmm ....
I wonder how many blogs there are out there, languishing untouched by their owners. I know mine sure as hell has.
I just honestly don't have anything interesting to write about, and I sure as hell don't have the motivation to hunt down articles and write commentary on them. There's a reason I'm not in school anymore, y'know?
And ultimately, that would mean I care if anyone reads this, which I don't. Begs the question why I even have a blog in the first place, then, doesn't it?
Why? Because I can.
I just honestly don't have anything interesting to write about, and I sure as hell don't have the motivation to hunt down articles and write commentary on them. There's a reason I'm not in school anymore, y'know?
And ultimately, that would mean I care if anyone reads this, which I don't. Begs the question why I even have a blog in the first place, then, doesn't it?
Why? Because I can.
Friday, March 21, 2008
There are two kinds of levees ...
... those that have failed, and those that will fail.
At least, that's what several billboards and signs say here in Missouri, especially near the flood plains.
Anyone who was alive during the 1993 flood remembers it, with the possible exception of small children. I was ten years old and remember the day the Missouri River finally reached the Huster Road substation and left hundreds if not thousands of homes without power. It was sometime in July of that year, and I remember having to gather candles and flashlights together so we could see at night.
The floods were caused by persistent storms, as well as snow melt from the Rockies flowing into the rivers. The ground just couldn't hold any more water and the rivers began to rise, and rise, and rise some more.
One of the things I've never understood is how people can justify putting up levees everywhere, redirecting the rivers to their own needs without a thought to the fact that you can't control nature. Even if a levee holds, that water will come out somewhere else and destroy some other town.
It sounds like it could happen again, if this news is any indication.
The most frustrating thing, though, is the morons who build their homes and businesses on the flood plains. A flood comes through, the buildings are wiped out, and they just rebuild in the exact same spot. Then they cry that they can't get flood insurance or federal aid to rebuild.
There's one extensive flood plain in Chesterfield, called the Valley. That entire area was under water in 1993, and now it's covered end to end with concrete and buildings. Runoff water can't get into the ground because of the paving, which means that area is looking at a pretty nasty future if we have even half the flooding we did in '93.
At least, that's what several billboards and signs say here in Missouri, especially near the flood plains.
Anyone who was alive during the 1993 flood remembers it, with the possible exception of small children. I was ten years old and remember the day the Missouri River finally reached the Huster Road substation and left hundreds if not thousands of homes without power. It was sometime in July of that year, and I remember having to gather candles and flashlights together so we could see at night.
The floods were caused by persistent storms, as well as snow melt from the Rockies flowing into the rivers. The ground just couldn't hold any more water and the rivers began to rise, and rise, and rise some more.
One of the things I've never understood is how people can justify putting up levees everywhere, redirecting the rivers to their own needs without a thought to the fact that you can't control nature. Even if a levee holds, that water will come out somewhere else and destroy some other town.
It sounds like it could happen again, if this news is any indication.
The most frustrating thing, though, is the morons who build their homes and businesses on the flood plains. A flood comes through, the buildings are wiped out, and they just rebuild in the exact same spot. Then they cry that they can't get flood insurance or federal aid to rebuild.
There's one extensive flood plain in Chesterfield, called the Valley. That entire area was under water in 1993, and now it's covered end to end with concrete and buildings. Runoff water can't get into the ground because of the paving, which means that area is looking at a pretty nasty future if we have even half the flooding we did in '93.
Article: Are Fibromyalgia Patients More Sensitive to Sound?
A study was done on this subject.
I can answer this rather emphatically YES.
My sensitivity to sound has gotten much worse in the past couple of years, to the point I'm ready to tear my hair out sometimes because a certain noise is really getting to me. High pitched sounds, loud sounds, and constant sounds really drive me up the wall.
I can barely even talk on the phone anymore. The sound from the earpiece is right in my ear and I can't get away from it without hanging up the phone. It's especially hard talking to my sister who is rather high pitched.
I also have difficulties at work, where I often have to wear a headset for drive-thru or making drinks at the espresso bar. Near-constant dinging to alert us a customer has pulled up, coupled with occasional diesel engines and continuous talking, all of these things grate on my nerves.
When I'm in pain, it's even harder for me to block out offending sounds. I have to ask my husband to lower his voice or speak more softly, because he has a rather loud and deep voice. All I really want to do is crawl into a hole and pull the dirt in after me just to have some peace and quiet.
I can answer this rather emphatically YES.
My sensitivity to sound has gotten much worse in the past couple of years, to the point I'm ready to tear my hair out sometimes because a certain noise is really getting to me. High pitched sounds, loud sounds, and constant sounds really drive me up the wall.
I can barely even talk on the phone anymore. The sound from the earpiece is right in my ear and I can't get away from it without hanging up the phone. It's especially hard talking to my sister who is rather high pitched.
I also have difficulties at work, where I often have to wear a headset for drive-thru or making drinks at the espresso bar. Near-constant dinging to alert us a customer has pulled up, coupled with occasional diesel engines and continuous talking, all of these things grate on my nerves.
When I'm in pain, it's even harder for me to block out offending sounds. I have to ask my husband to lower his voice or speak more softly, because he has a rather loud and deep voice. All I really want to do is crawl into a hole and pull the dirt in after me just to have some peace and quiet.
Monday, January 28, 2008
The destruction of history
As someone who loves history, and who considered becoming an archaeologist, I find looting and stealing of artifacts to be particularly reprehensible. The fact that there's a black market for artifacts and grave goods (including the inhabitants of said graves) makes me rather ill.
At the bottom of the list of reasons this makes me angry: the destruction of historical context. This is especially important in older digs, where the strata can be dated and thus the age of the artifact can then be judged. Without that context, we only have conjecture.
Somewhere around the middle of the list are people who knowingly purchase stolen goods.
At the top of the list are those who desecrate graves. It's particularly difficult to hear of incidences in America of Indian graves being looted or destroyed, of the utter disregard for both the deceased and the descendants. While the bones may not care what's happening to them, it's a matter of respect and dignity. Whether or not graves should be opened in order to extract DNA, or determine how ancient peoples lived, that's a whole other issue I won't get into here.
The problem is that people don't look at the artifacts or the bones as important. They're only seen for their monetary value by those who loot and sell. The fact that they're taking things that don't belong to them is one thing; simple theft doesn't have huge cultural ramifications (though it's not a victimless crime, of course). The historical and cultural value of an object is priceless, a window into prehistory that we might not otherwise have.
One of the hardest things for a history enthusiast to hear is that someone has taken a bulldozer or a backhoe to an archaeological site in order to quickly get at the goods. Not only does this destroy the historical context, it also destroys much of the artifacts. Of course, the looters don't care, they're just trying to get as much as possible as quickly as possible.
While authorities and volunteers have tried their best to save sites, but even then they're foiled by looters. A recent story from USA Today talked about an uptick in theft from U.S. national parks. The looters will call in false reports to lure park rangers and other authorities away, so that they have time to loot the site.
There's even a problem with "casual" looting, wherein visitors to national parks and other historical sites may come across a fossil or an artifact and decide to take it home as a souvenir. Unfortunately, because millions of people move through these places every year, it's virtually impossible to curb the loss.
At the bottom of the list of reasons this makes me angry: the destruction of historical context. This is especially important in older digs, where the strata can be dated and thus the age of the artifact can then be judged. Without that context, we only have conjecture.
Somewhere around the middle of the list are people who knowingly purchase stolen goods.
At the top of the list are those who desecrate graves. It's particularly difficult to hear of incidences in America of Indian graves being looted or destroyed, of the utter disregard for both the deceased and the descendants. While the bones may not care what's happening to them, it's a matter of respect and dignity. Whether or not graves should be opened in order to extract DNA, or determine how ancient peoples lived, that's a whole other issue I won't get into here.
The problem is that people don't look at the artifacts or the bones as important. They're only seen for their monetary value by those who loot and sell. The fact that they're taking things that don't belong to them is one thing; simple theft doesn't have huge cultural ramifications (though it's not a victimless crime, of course). The historical and cultural value of an object is priceless, a window into prehistory that we might not otherwise have.
One of the hardest things for a history enthusiast to hear is that someone has taken a bulldozer or a backhoe to an archaeological site in order to quickly get at the goods. Not only does this destroy the historical context, it also destroys much of the artifacts. Of course, the looters don't care, they're just trying to get as much as possible as quickly as possible.
While authorities and volunteers have tried their best to save sites, but even then they're foiled by looters. A recent story from USA Today talked about an uptick in theft from U.S. national parks. The looters will call in false reports to lure park rangers and other authorities away, so that they have time to loot the site.
There's even a problem with "casual" looting, wherein visitors to national parks and other historical sites may come across a fossil or an artifact and decide to take it home as a souvenir. Unfortunately, because millions of people move through these places every year, it's virtually impossible to curb the loss.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Ooh, ooh, I wanna lie about being in pain!
According to Jezebel, Fibromyalgia Syndrome is a big ol' fake disease. Y'know, FMS sufferers really just don't want to work, don't want to do anything productive. We want to sit on our asses all day and be lazy. So we just make up some symptoms.
I understand that it's hard to take someone seriously when they say they have an illness yet you can't see any physical manifestation of said illness. It happens a lot when someone has a temporary handicap sign to hang on their rearview mirror, yet they get out of the car and seem perfectly ambulatory. The automatic assumption is to jump to conclusions and say that they don't need that sign, they don't need that assistance. Same thing happens when I'm using my cane on bad days. It's also hard to believe that someone is ill when they're still functioning.
But that's the nature of FMS, as well as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. We (those of us who have it/them) look perfectly healthy. On some days, we even act like we're healthy and nothing is wrong with us. But what a lot of healthy people don't see are the bad days, the days we can't get out of bed, or if we do get out of bed we're only going to the couch. They don't see the days we're stiff and sore, the days it hurts just to be touched by a loved one, the days we can barely eat, the days we really just want to curl up into a ball and die. It's intensely frustrating, and intensely disheartening to live with this.
If you're one of the "lucky" few to have CFS in co-morbidity, you're also prone to sleeping all the time (when you can fall asleep/stay asleep at all), and still feeling like you only got one hour. You may have gotten eight straight, but your body doesn't give a crap.
We're stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially in regards to being employed. I work in the food service industry, and on the days I'm barely mobile, I can't exactly call in and say I'm not coming into work. This is especially true because while I may seem like I'm fine, I'm mostly just internalizing my pain and suffering so that I don't have people asking me if I'm okay a million times an hour. But it's those days that end up hurting me the most, because I have to push myself in order to function, and by pushing myself I'm just screwing myself up further. I'm using energy that I don't even have to spare.
Add in semi-sleepless nights and difficulty falling asleep, with numerous random awakenings, and it's a huge recipe for disaster. By not getting enough sleep, my body's ability to deal with pain is decreased. Then pain makes it harder to sleep, and I get even less rest, and the cycle is just continued.
I sometimes wonder if I was covered in bruises, some visible sign of infirmity, would people believe me? Would they maybe think twice about asking me to do physically challenging things at work? I say covered in bruises because that's usually how I feel. Today, for example, it feels like someone has been punching me in my side ribs. Earlier tonight, I couldn't scratch an itch on my left bicep because the pressure on my skin was too painful.
It's so easy for healthy, cynical people to say that FMS/CFS don't exist. It doesn't affect them, so why should they care?
Unfortunately, there really isn't any way to make them care, other than magically giving them these illnesses, and that's just cruel. But I think it's just as cruel that we're treated as pariahs because we're seeking help in managing our pain and trying to live normal lives.
I understand that it's hard to take someone seriously when they say they have an illness yet you can't see any physical manifestation of said illness. It happens a lot when someone has a temporary handicap sign to hang on their rearview mirror, yet they get out of the car and seem perfectly ambulatory. The automatic assumption is to jump to conclusions and say that they don't need that sign, they don't need that assistance. Same thing happens when I'm using my cane on bad days. It's also hard to believe that someone is ill when they're still functioning.
But that's the nature of FMS, as well as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. We (those of us who have it/them) look perfectly healthy. On some days, we even act like we're healthy and nothing is wrong with us. But what a lot of healthy people don't see are the bad days, the days we can't get out of bed, or if we do get out of bed we're only going to the couch. They don't see the days we're stiff and sore, the days it hurts just to be touched by a loved one, the days we can barely eat, the days we really just want to curl up into a ball and die. It's intensely frustrating, and intensely disheartening to live with this.
If you're one of the "lucky" few to have CFS in co-morbidity, you're also prone to sleeping all the time (when you can fall asleep/stay asleep at all), and still feeling like you only got one hour. You may have gotten eight straight, but your body doesn't give a crap.
We're stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially in regards to being employed. I work in the food service industry, and on the days I'm barely mobile, I can't exactly call in and say I'm not coming into work. This is especially true because while I may seem like I'm fine, I'm mostly just internalizing my pain and suffering so that I don't have people asking me if I'm okay a million times an hour. But it's those days that end up hurting me the most, because I have to push myself in order to function, and by pushing myself I'm just screwing myself up further. I'm using energy that I don't even have to spare.
Add in semi-sleepless nights and difficulty falling asleep, with numerous random awakenings, and it's a huge recipe for disaster. By not getting enough sleep, my body's ability to deal with pain is decreased. Then pain makes it harder to sleep, and I get even less rest, and the cycle is just continued.
I sometimes wonder if I was covered in bruises, some visible sign of infirmity, would people believe me? Would they maybe think twice about asking me to do physically challenging things at work? I say covered in bruises because that's usually how I feel. Today, for example, it feels like someone has been punching me in my side ribs. Earlier tonight, I couldn't scratch an itch on my left bicep because the pressure on my skin was too painful.
It's so easy for healthy, cynical people to say that FMS/CFS don't exist. It doesn't affect them, so why should they care?
Unfortunately, there really isn't any way to make them care, other than magically giving them these illnesses, and that's just cruel. But I think it's just as cruel that we're treated as pariahs because we're seeking help in managing our pain and trying to live normal lives.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
I'm such a girl
As much as I bluster and act like I'm a badass, I am completely undone by sappy love stories.
You see, I'm a romantic at heart. I love a good love story, one where true love prevails in the end, no matter what happens. Even if it's a cartoon, I love it (I always bawl at the end of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I can't help it.
We saw Disney's Enchanted last night, and I couldn't believe how much I loved it. I loved that the happy princess, who'd never been angry in her life, realizes that there's more to life than breaking into song and talking to her animal friends. I loved that the hardbitten NYC divorce lawyer opens his eyes and sees how wonderful life can be if you don't take it for granted. And that the little girl got a real princess for a mother.
And of course that, in the end, everyone lived happily ever after.
The cynic I say that I am cringes, looking for the nearest exit, but it won't find one. I got my own happily ever after, and I love to see others get it, too, even if it's just a movie.
The music was great, too, and I was digging on the costumes at the Kings and Queens Ball. I secretly love dresses and would find it completely awesome to dress up like that. Or maybe I just watch too much Highlander.
You see, I'm a romantic at heart. I love a good love story, one where true love prevails in the end, no matter what happens. Even if it's a cartoon, I love it (I always bawl at the end of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I can't help it.
We saw Disney's Enchanted last night, and I couldn't believe how much I loved it. I loved that the happy princess, who'd never been angry in her life, realizes that there's more to life than breaking into song and talking to her animal friends. I loved that the hardbitten NYC divorce lawyer opens his eyes and sees how wonderful life can be if you don't take it for granted. And that the little girl got a real princess for a mother.
And of course that, in the end, everyone lived happily ever after.
The cynic I say that I am cringes, looking for the nearest exit, but it won't find one. I got my own happily ever after, and I love to see others get it, too, even if it's just a movie.
The music was great, too, and I was digging on the costumes at the Kings and Queens Ball. I secretly love dresses and would find it completely awesome to dress up like that. Or maybe I just watch too much Highlander.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Some days are worse than others
I've been a pessimist for a good portion of my life, at least all of my adult life and for most of my childhood. Yes, children aren't supposed to be pessimists, but when your stepfather is abusive, there's not much to hope for.
Anyway, today was a bad day. Well, yesterday was, too. I didn't even touch Lady E, and only added a sentence or two to finish my current fanfic. Other than that, I was on the couch all day.
Today was started off by a nightmare of recurring fears of abandonment and followed by feeling completely defeated. I have a hard time seeing in myself the successes and the things I've managed to change for the good. Instead, I focus on the failures and obsess about what I want to be able to do but am limited in doing because of my health, both mental and physical.
In these funks, my husband is really the only saving grace. Sometimes he does the typical man thing of trying to fix the problem, telling me what I can do to feel better. Today, though, he took me by the hand and gave me concrete examples of what I'm doing, of how I'm changing for the better. With tears in my eyes, I accepted it.
And I think that's where a lot of my grief comes from: not accepting myself. I'm not saying that I should settle for anything, rather that I'm not willing to see the good things in myself. Sometimes it takes someone holding up a metaphorical mirror for me to see.
Anyway, today was a bad day. Well, yesterday was, too. I didn't even touch Lady E, and only added a sentence or two to finish my current fanfic. Other than that, I was on the couch all day.
Today was started off by a nightmare of recurring fears of abandonment and followed by feeling completely defeated. I have a hard time seeing in myself the successes and the things I've managed to change for the good. Instead, I focus on the failures and obsess about what I want to be able to do but am limited in doing because of my health, both mental and physical.
In these funks, my husband is really the only saving grace. Sometimes he does the typical man thing of trying to fix the problem, telling me what I can do to feel better. Today, though, he took me by the hand and gave me concrete examples of what I'm doing, of how I'm changing for the better. With tears in my eyes, I accepted it.
And I think that's where a lot of my grief comes from: not accepting myself. I'm not saying that I should settle for anything, rather that I'm not willing to see the good things in myself. Sometimes it takes someone holding up a metaphorical mirror for me to see.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
I always have to make things complicated
After frogging the Lady E shawl twice (and having to start over a third time because I tore the yarn in my anger) yesterday, I finally figured it out today.
Here's where I was stuck:
Once finishing the base row, I had to make a triangle. At one point, the directions say to knit to the last stitch, make one, and knit one. I hate ambiguous wording like that, because I've seen it mean more than one thing. Sometimes it's knit until you have one stitch left, make one and knit that one. Sometimes it me?ans knit until you have no more stitches, make one and knit the one you just picked up.
I was doing the former, and I did that every time before I ended up frogging. Out of frustration I tried the latter option tonight, and it worked. I'm now almost done with the first of the first tiers.
Why do I always have to make things more difficult for myself?
Here's where I was stuck:
Once finishing the base row, I had to make a triangle. At one point, the directions say to knit to the last stitch, make one, and knit one. I hate ambiguous wording like that, because I've seen it mean more than one thing. Sometimes it's knit until you have one stitch left, make one and knit that one. Sometimes it me?ans knit until you have no more stitches, make one and knit the one you just picked up.
I was doing the former, and I did that every time before I ended up frogging. Out of frustration I tried the latter option tonight, and it worked. I'm now almost done with the first of the first tiers.
Why do I always have to make things more difficult for myself?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Lady Eleanor
So, I bought yarn for Lady Eleanor today. The overwhelming majority of knitters at Ravelry have chosen Noro Silk Garden as their yarn of choice. While beautiful, it's also about $12 a skein, and LE calls for 10 skeins to complete the shawl. Uh, that's a bit pricey, y'know?
My lovely LYS owner pointed me in the direction of Plymouth Yarn Boku (colorway 7). $7 a skein. That's much, much better.
I have to go to the library (hell, I'm so pumped I might go back out tonight) to pick up the Scarf Style book. I know it'll take me months and months to make this project, but that's okay. I don't have to compete with anyone to get it done, it's for me.
The Ropes and Ladders scarf is on hold so I can start Lady E.
ETA: The total for today's yarn escapade was $93.91. $18 of that was an Addi Turbo circular needle.
My lovely LYS owner pointed me in the direction of Plymouth Yarn Boku (colorway 7). $7 a skein. That's much, much better.
I have to go to the library (hell, I'm so pumped I might go back out tonight) to pick up the Scarf Style book. I know it'll take me months and months to make this project, but that's okay. I don't have to compete with anyone to get it done, it's for me.
The Ropes and Ladders scarf is on hold so I can start Lady E.
ETA: The total for today's yarn escapade was $93.91. $18 of that was an Addi Turbo circular needle.
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