With a Cluck-Cluck Here

If you look in the dictionary under the word “naive” you will see my picture. It’s amazing how I could get to be this old and still make such silly conclusions. Case in point: I bought the latest edition of Hobby Farms magazine. I get this every now and then for the articles about sheep and wool production. Being a knitter and wannabe spinner, I have this thing for sheep. I know next-to-nothing about having sheep, but I love to read about people who do.

In this particular issue, the cover article is about raising rare-breed chickens, with pictures of these gorgeous roosters and hens. My first thought was, I bet Martha Stewart has these kinds of chickens. If I remember right, she had a segment on her show about her chickens and the beautiful eggs they give her, thus inspiring her paint colors. And I thought about how good fresh farm eggs would be with the big ham we had at Easter. So, I looked forward to reading the article. So, here’s the first paragraph (written by Sue Weaver):

Remember Sunday supper at Grandma’s house? Remember lounging by the TV watching the “Ed Sullivan Show” with Dad and Grandpa while the luscious fragrance of farm-raised chicken drifted into the living room and made you all but drool? Remember sinking your teeth into that first crispy-coated drumstick, closing your eyes and savoring its sumptuous, juicy flavor? Mm-mmm, now that was a chicken!

Oh. Raise the chickens to eat. Oh yeah, I guess you would, huh? I hadn’t considered that you preserve chickens by raising them to eat them. It just took me a minute to shake the romantic idea of an idyllic farm with beautiful chickens laying lovely eggs. Then I kept thinking about the phrase, “chicken with its head cut off,” and how true it was—a chicken will run around after you cut its head off. Ew. Is there a way I could take the chickens somewhere so that someone else could do that part, so that all I have to do is bring home the luscious part in white butcher paper?

I read further in the article and realized, “I’m hungry, and I want fried chicken!” But I don’t want the chicken out of that Tyson bag. I want the sumptuous, juicy flavor of the chicken described in this article. Chicken has become some bland dish you have to season well to taste. I remembered that last Thanksgiving in Ohio, we bought a fresh turkey at a local organic, free-range turkey farm, and that was the best turkey I ever had. I had no idea turkey could actually taste good without having to smother it in mashed potatoes, gravy, and dressing.

I still feel silly that I didn’t think about raising chickens as food first. I just don’t think like a farmer, I guess. I wonder if Martha eats her chickens? I know she’s got a good recipe for fried chicken.

Pastoral Ponderings

As I get closer to my birthday and turning f-f-f-f-forty, I find myself being very contemplative. I guess that’s normal. Before I turned 30, I make a list of some things I wanted to do before that birthday and did most of them. I haven’t done that this time. Making a list is too restrictive somehow—way too much pressure at this time in my life. If I’m going to turn f-f-f-f-forty, I want it to be as stress-free as possible.

But there is one disconcerting thing that has developed in the last couple of years. I daydream about living out in the country, in a little farmhouse on about 5 to 10 acres. This is opposite what anyone who knows me would imagine me wanting. I used to say that if you couldn’t get a pizza delivered, you lived too far out. But now, that’s seeming very attractive to me.

This feeling is also disconcerting because I, in the past, have been rather cruel in my assertion of middle-aged men wanting to be the “gentleman farmer,” especially my dad. For a while, Dad had a some pigs, some cattle, and a few horses. I, in my teenage arrogance, thought it so completely stupid. He was a lawyer—he didn’t have time to have a farm. And considering that my idea of a life was living in an apartment in New York City, it all seemed very silly to me.

My how maturity does humble one so. When we were living in Ohio, I fell in love with the beautiful scenery and simple craft of knitting a skein of recently spun yarn into a garment. I drove around, admiring farmhouses and tracks of sprawling land, imagining how wonderful it would be to live out where there were no neighbor so close you could look in their windows from you own house. We went to a party at co-worker’s farm. The restored farmhouse, the barn with chickens and goats, and the acres of pastures with horses was all at it should be and I felt completely at home. Among all the kids running around and people getting their grilled meats and fresh veggies from the big buffet table under the tent, I looked up at the sky and said, “I’m sorry Dad. I understand now.” And for the first time in the 8 years since he passed away, I missed my Dad and wished I could talk to him.

So, there’s some kind of weird circle of life thing going on. The one person I felt like I never connected with is the one person I feel would completely understand me now. That feeling, plus turning f-f-f-f-forty is about all the emotion. I can handle right now.

To celebrate my admitting this weird new desire of mine, I bought Hobby Farm magazine. There are articles about breeding rare-breed chickens and getting great wool from your flock. Cool! And the tea kettle just went off, so time for tea and a little daydreaming.

Chicago Part IV: Dining at Frontera Grill

Rick Bayless is the author of my favorite cookbooks, the host of “Mexico: One Plate at a Time” on PBS, and the owner/chef of Frontera Grill. Not only are his cookbooks full of delicious recipes that combine authentic and contemporary Mexican cooking, they are the best written cookbooks I have. His step-by-step construction anticipates my questions and clearly explains how to make these delicious meals. Every recipe I’ve tried has turned out fantastic, and I can’t say that about many of my cookbooks. So, when we started planning this quick trip to Chicago, the first thing Hubby said he wanted to do was go to Frontera Grill.

There’s actually 2 restaurants in one here. There’s Frontera Grill, the upstairs, casual place, with a tile floors, wild artwork, and Toplobappo, the more elegant restaurant with white tablecloths, subdued lighting, and a little more expensive food. Both are amazing, but we ate upstairs. This was a Friday night, and we got there about 10 ‘til 6, and we had a 40 minute wait.

We waited in the bar, but only I drank. Hubby wasn’t real keen on alcohol still. I had a blood orange margarita that was the smoothest, tastiest margarita I’ve ever had. No Icee out of a machine here—shaken with ice and poured into a cool glass. I would have had another, but since it cost as much as my meal, I decided one would be enough. While we were enjoying our drinks (Al had a house-roasted coffee that he drank black because it was so good), the couple next to us decided to stay and eat in the bar. They gave us their buzzer as it went off, so we got a table 30 minutes early.

There were spicy peanuts and sunflower seeds at the tables, a nice change from stale chips and watery salsa. I had tuna with a spicy mango salsa with an amazing rice with saffron. Al had tacos with grilled chicken and beans with a spice we couldn't figure out, but it was good. Every meal comes with corn tortillas made on site. They were almost soft tacos they were so, well, hum, soft. For dessert, we had a mixed berry galette with a homemade vanilla raspberry ice cream. It was the best dessert we’ve ever had. We talked all night about how we should order another one.

We can't wait to go again. For more info, go to the website Bayless and Frontera Grill.

Chicago, Part III: The Field Museum

The Field Museum is THE science museum in Chicago. Here is where you can see Sue, the largest T-Rex and other dinosaurs, plus a wall from a pyramid burial room, gems and jade, and an amazing exhibit on Pacific Nations. I knew nothing about all the islands in the pacific, so this was really fascinating. Unfortunately, I was so tired by the time we got to that exhibit, that I couldn’t do all the reading and exploring I wanted to do.

We were there on a Friday, while school was in session, and it was packed. There were kids everywhere! I guess it was Spring Break for some, that and the kids obviously on field trips. It gets a little frustrating because kids tend to squeeze in front of you so that you can’t see the exhibit, and their parents encourage their little darlings to do so. Kind of frustrating since those same kids were playing with their GameBoys in the last exhibit. Just so you can get an idea of what the museum looks like and how many people were there, here’s a photo taken from upstairs, above Sue.



Sue is the most amazing thing to see, and you can’t miss her because she is on the main floor. She’s the largest, complete T-Rex. Is there any doubt why Jurassic Park is one of my favorite books and movies? Here are some pics.




The museum is a classic building, with marble stairs, floors, and pillars. It’s entrance and main hall are bright, but the exhibits are lit to protect the artifacts. For someone with balance problems or lightheadedness, this can be a bit of a problem. Just take it slowly, your eyes and balance will adjust. There are some exhibits (mostly the gems) that are recreations of other famous articles, and I have to admit that my first reaction is “Why?” and “Big deal.” Being a reproduction doesn’t make it any less amazing, I guess. And better to see it as a reproduction that not as all, I guess. But it still seemed a little weird.

The dinosaurs were are part of a new “Evolving Planet” exhibit. I don’t have a problem with evolution, so I thought it was great. What I had a problem with is that you have to get a special ticket and time to see it. No more wondering around the dinosaurs whenever you want to. Our time was 3:15, so around 3:00, we got in line and waited for our turn in. But it was worth it. There are other special, temporary exhibits that require an additional entrance fee and ticket. When you get your tickets online, be sure to get tickets for everything you want to see.

There’s a Corner Bakery in the museum, but there are vending machines and McDonalds downstairs. But at the Corner Bakery, you’re still on the main level and there is better people watching there. It’s amazing how many people let their kids run around like wild in a place like this. Yes, it’s a bit over-stimulating, but Geez!

If I lived in Chicago, I would go to the museum and take an exhibit at a time to really appreciate all that they’ve done here. Since I don’t, it was a real whirlwind! But it was still a great experience.

Next up, dining at Frontera Grill.

Chicago, Part II: Riding the Bus and Travel Tips

The next day, after Hubby had recovered enough from the night before, we headed to the Field Museum. We got instructions from the concierge desk on how to take the bus, then headed to the corner. We were a little anxious because we haven’t ridden the bus before, always living in car-friendly cities. But we had good instructions, and since this bus is usually full of tourists, considering where it goes, the driver was pretty friendly. Also, they announce each stop, so really, you can’t get lost. And it’s always interesting being on public transportation. We knew we must have been on the right bus because most of the people around us were talking about getting off at the museum, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, and other things in that area.

Travel tip for ya if you ride the bus in Chicago. The busses are really long—2 busses connected with baffles like an accordion, which help them make turns. So, if you are standing in the center of the bus, look down and make sure you aren’t straddling the track because one foot will go one way while the other stays in place when you go around a corner. It also helps if you have someone to hold onto around those corners. It’s like a whole other ride!

Going down there, the bus wasn’t too crowded. Coming back, that was a different story—packed! Also, that brings me to another travel tip for ya. When you get directions on how to get somewhere, it doesn’t hurt to get directions on how to get back. We realized on the way back that we didn’t really know what direction that bus was going, and we just assumed it http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifwas a loop. We were familiar enough with the area by this point and got off and a great stop, but next time I’m asking about both ways.

And yet one more tip! If you are only going to one museum, such as The Field Museum, pay the extra few bucks and order your tickets online for the day you’re going. Then, when all those people are winding their way up to the ticket booth, you’ll just walk right up to the Will Call window. Plus, they gave us complimentary tickets for the Evolving Planet exhibit. I’m glad they did because I hadn’t requested those tickets, and they’ve made all the dinosaurs part of that exhibit, so we would have missed them. Now, if you are going to go to more than one museum, get a Chicago CityPass. You can get these online at CityPass.com; they are good for 9 days, and you don’t have to wait in line to get in. You can also get them at the museums. So worth it.

Coming up, The Field Museum.

Chicago, Part I. The Hotel

Well, it’s been a couple of weeks since I got back from my short trip to Chicago, so I thought I should actually write a little about what else we did besides drink whisky. And being a rambler, I’m going to do this parts.

We stayed at the Hyatt Regency downtown. Wow! We’ve never spent that much on a hotel, and never will again (well, at least until next year’s WhiskyFest), but it was all part of Hubby’s Christmas present. If you are going to an event with over 200 whiskies to taste, it’s best to stay in the hotel where it is being held.

The hotel was very slick, had a great concierge desk, and had three restaurants on site, but it was loud, busy, and really aimed at business people. I wonder if they ever have a weekend when there isn’t a convention going on? The room was modern and sophisticated, so it wasn’t quite my style. But it was pretty and quiet. And it had a king size bed, which is always cool since I don’t have one of those of my own. Here’s a couple of pics of the room.




Before the whisky tasting, we grabbed a couple of bricks of pizza from the restaurant downstairs. Yes, bricks. Take a look! What would you call them?



I’ve already written about WhiskyFest, so I won’t bore you with more details. Suffice it to say, it was great. I’m not sure how much Hubby remembers, but he wants to go again next year.

Coming up next, riding the bus and seeing Sue.

So True

In the article "Report Raises New Questions on Bush, WMDs" on Yahoo News, my favorite quote is

"The intelligence community makes the assessment," he said. "The White House is not the intelligence-gathering agency."

Truer words have not been spoken about this administration.

A Walk Around the Pond

Since I feel like I’m beginning to plateau with my workout regime, Hubby suggested that today we should go for a walk on a local trail instead of going to the gym. Don’t go to the gym? Yeah, baby, I’m with ya! A nice walk outside in the sun and fresh air. A day off from walking to nowhere on the treadmill.

We’re lucky that we have several of these trails available. They’re paved and have little lay-bys with a park bench in case you need a break from all the healthy exercise. If walking, jogging, skating, or biking isn’t your thing, there’s also fishing in the crappie-stocked lake. Actually, it’s more of a big pond on this one. Dogs are welcome, as long as they are on a leash, and there are picnic areas, too.

What they don’t have are maps at the entrances to show you what the trail looks like and where it goes. I hate that. They have a big sign telling you what you can’t do (no hunting, alcohol, swimming, yadda yadda yadda), but no where do they say how long the trail is or where it goes. So, it’s a leap of faith—stay on the side walk, and keep the pond on your right, or left, depending on which way you head out.

It’s always wonderful starting out. There’s a breeze blowing, the sun is behind partly cloudy skies, and there aren’t many people this day, so no dodging the bikers. I get lost in my thoughts and the rhythm of the walk. This euphoria lasts for quite a while, then it begins to feel like exercise and I’m not enjoying myself as much.

Spring hasn’t sprung on this trail, so there’s only dead grass and bare-limbed trees to look at. I notice a bridge leading to the other side of the pond, and hopefully the downhill part of the loop. But just as I think the trail will head over there, it veers to the left, the opposite direction, for what seemed like miles! OK, it’s probably more like feet, but it’s still in the opposite direction. But since there wasn’t a map available, who knew how long this loop was and when the trail would veer back to that bridge.

By now, the partly cloudy skies had cleared up to become mostly sunny and that nice breeze was all but gone. I asked Hubby what time it was, and he said it had only been 20 minutes. Only? I would be climbing off the elliptical machine by now! And we still have to walk back! But, we may have gone more than halfway, so maybe we should just keep going. But maybe not. Who the hell knows!?! So, we kept going.

Turned out to be the right decision. Once we finally found and crossed the bridge, it was no time before we were back at the parking lot—an hour total. Hubby was all happy and pumped up. It was a great walk, a great pace, and great change from the gym. I’m happy he was happy. My shins hurt, my head hurt, and my left thigh was so tight, I was limping. OK, maybe I exaggerate, a little. But I was tired. Really tired.

But at least now we know where that trail goes. Maybe I should draw a map.

My LYS

In knitting-lingo, that's Local Yarn Shop.

I love my yarn shop. It's fun, it's beautiful, and it's inviting. The people who own it are nice and helpful, and the people who shop there are the same. And now they're online! So, I thought I'd share it with anyone who stops by the blog. So, here's the link:

String of Purls

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Hubby's nephew has a retired racing horse. That alone is just head-shaking weird. He wanted a motorcyle, but the family said no, you can have an old horse instead. Huh? You know, you have to keep a horse alive, right?

Anyway. The horse. When he puts the bidle in the horse's mouth, it faints! Makes it a little hard to ride, ya think? I've heard of horses holding their breath when you sinch up the saddle, then exhaling when you get settled so that you slide off, but actually fainting? They think it's some kind of performance anxiety from its time as a race horse. Uh huh. If they start giving that horse prozac, I just might have to laugh in their faces. But I better not. They prescribe prozac for dogs and cats, and horses are a lot smarter. Who knows?

Maybe they should call the Pet Pyschic!

Doggie's Happy Dance

Dogs know how to enjoy and revel in their doggieness. Daily was aleep on the tile floor, then I heard her moving around. She was rolling around, scratching her back on the floor, her collar was jingling, and she was grunting and moaning happily. And every now and then, she'd flop her nose or tail against the floor. So I heard, "Rarrrrr, jingle, Roarrrr, thump, snort, rarrrrrr, snort, jingle clink clink thump" Then one big sneeze and jingle combination, a big shake, and she pranced over to me. Her hair was standing up on the top of head, she was panting and wagging her tail. She was very pleased with her roll around the floor, which we call her "happy dance." She trotted off for a drink of water, then outside to repeat the dance in the newly green grass and sunshine.

Oh, the life of a dog.

My Kind of Town

Chicago is. OK, that’s hokey. And I’m not sure it’s exactly truthful. Can I know after 2 days in a city that I want or could live there? I felt that in Edinburgh. I knew immediately that I could move there at moment’s notice.

Chicago had some of that feeling. It’s a little disconcerting because I had pretty much decided that since the chances were slim that I would be able to move to Edinburgh, or Scotland in general, I wanted to be in the country. I chucked it up to being older and more mature and less patient when it came to being around people. A nice little farmhouse on 5 or so acres with some alpacas so I could spin the wool and sell it for outrageous amounts of money on the Internet as “artisan.” Pastoral, bucolic, idyllic, romantic, and more attainable than Scotland. And I like the idea of being out alone in the open air, with no buildings, no noise, no screaming kids in the aisles at Wal-Mart. Oh, who am I kidding? There will always be a Wal-Mart and there will always be a screaming kid in one of the aisles.

But being in Chicago relit a flame I thought I had blown out. The dream of living in a city, in an apartment where I can jump on the train or a bus to get where I need to go. Stopping at a market on the way home from work with the ingredients for that night’s dinner, rather than shopping for weeks at a time because I have a trunk and a garage that leads right into my house (then throwing away all that produce because I never actually cook it). Going to some of the best museums any time I want, seeing plays from the best playwrights of our time, attending lectures, eating food prepared by top chefs, and of course, watching a baseball or football fame with some of the most fanatical and loyal fans ever. Idyllic, romantic, exciting.

There are some realistic drawbacks. Noise being the main one for me—horns and traffic noise are like nails down a blackboard. But city dwellers seem to have this covered. They just walk everywhere with earbuds in their ears, listening to their iPods. I wouldn’t need to move to the country to distance myself from people, I’ll just turn on my iPod like everyone else. And crime. I didn’t feel unsafe at all, but then again, I’m pretty naive about that. And cost. We saw ads for apartments starting at $200,000! I don’t think I can spin enough alpaca to afford that, especially since I don’t know how to spin yet. Then there is the very real problem of Hubby not wanting to live in a city. He liked Chicago, but he doesn’t want to live there, and living with him does take precedence.

Then there is the other reality that I’m a country girl at heart. I’ve fought it all of my life because I thought you were supposed to want the sophisticated city life. I thought everyone believed the stereotypes of the barefoot and stupid country bumpkin. And in reality, many do. It took moving away to realize that people are going think what they want, you have to be true to yourself. God, would it shock people if I really did end up on a farm.

So, what to do what to do. Luckily I don’t have to decide anytime soon. And honestly, I’m not ruling Scotland out. Options. I got options.

A New Project

As if I really needed another project, I joined a quilt club with a friend at the local quilt shop. It's a block-of-the-month club, so I'll be learning a lot. We'll make 2 blocks each month, then by this time next year, I hope, I'll have this quilt:



I'm excited about this new project! Blocks, applique and quilting, oh my! I've been wanting to really challenge myself, and this is definitely a challenge! I've never made a full-size quilt before. Hopefully, this time next year, I won't be able to say that any more.

You Didn't Ask, But . . .

Well, FHM and the Cynical Bastard made their list of sexiest women, so I thought I'd try a list for sexiest men. My list. I'm not expecting many to agree, and I'm a little behind the times since I don't watch much TV unless it's BBC America, Food Network and HGTV, but here it is, in no particular order.

Movie Star Hunk--Denzel Washington


Brooding Intensity Hunk--Christopher Meloni


Next Sex Symbol Hunk--Clive Owen


Adventurous Hunk--Ewan McGregor


TV Hunk--Julian McMahon


British Hunks--Colin Firth and Jason Isaacs




Politically Savvy and Rock Star Hunk--Bono


Country Boy Hunk--Troy Gentry


Intelligent and Funny Hunk--Steve Martin



If I was 20 Years Younger Hunk--Jake Gyllenhaal

WhiskyFest--It's a Beautiful Thing

When someone tells me they don’t like scotch, I tell them they are drinking the wrong scotch. They’ve probably had a blended scotch, a nasty concoction of several whiskies stirred up into a pretty bottle. But a single malt scotch is a beautiful thing. It’s a caramel-colored, complex, slightly smoky liquid that warms you from the tip of your nose to the tip of your toes.

Of course, different areas of Scotland produces different scotches. The Lowlands produce a soft, malty whisky (that’s whisky without an “e” please). Glenkinchie is an example. The Highlands, being the largest area, produce mostly a drier whisky, sometimes with a hint of peat. Glenmorangie and Oban are popular Highland whiskies. Speyside produces a softer, elegant whisky, and is the home of The Glenlivet and Glenfarclas. And, leaving what I consider the best for last, is Islay, a 25-mile long island that is the home to such wonderfully peaty-scotch distilleries as Bowmore, Laphroaig, Lagavulin, and Ardbeg.

One of the best places to find out what you like, if you don’t have a great bar like the Dundee Dell like we do here in Omaha, is to go to WhiskyFest in Chicago. Sponsored by Malt Advocate magazine, this kid-in-a-candy-store event is a celebration of all things whisky—Scotch, Irish, Bourbon and Blended. Malt Advocate also has a WhiskyFest in New York and London, but this one is more attainable to me, personally, so this is the one we went to. And although the real target audience is distributors and buyers, they were just as friendly and helpful to us consumers.

The doors into the Grand Ballroom at the Hyatt Regency Downtown Chicago opened at 6:30, and we flooded in, eyes bulging and not knowing where to start. Ever been to a Home Show? That’s what this was like, only instead of row after row of tables and booths of landscaping and tiling options, it was all whisky. And, thank God, there were two huge buffets on each side of the room with pasta, roast beef, and muchies. Malt Advocate was nice enough to give everyone a spiral notebook for notetaking with a map of the tables, but it sat unused in my goodie bag. That takes way too much planning. And way too much sober organizational skills, although I saw some people using them.

So, we started on the right. We decided we’d start with some things we hadn’t tried before. We went to Connemara Irish Whiskey (this time, you may use the “e.”). They had 4 different whiskeys to try! Holy Cow, one table and I’m done! Actually, I wasn’t, but that would have been the smart thing to do because nothing tasted as good as this first taste. Oh, it tasted really good, but that first sip, mmmmmmmmm.

Then the trolling began. With tasting glass in hand, (Malt Advocate also supplied lovely engraved glasses), we worked our way around the room. Even though we didn’t have to drive anywhere, I took it easy. Alcohol and my medication don’t get along too well, and I don’t fancy a liver transplant. Besides, this was Hubby’s Christmas present, and as the night went on, it became obvious my role would be as support: support walking, support getting back to the room, support worshipping the ol’ porcelain altar, and so on.

What all did we, or he, try? Penderyn, Bunnahabhain (the rare example of a good blended Scotch from Islay), Old Potrero, Anchor Brewing (a little break from whisky), Santa Teresa Rum, Unibroue Beer, Goose Island Brewing, The Glenrothes, Tullamore Dew, Suntory Yamazaki (Japanese is a growing Scotch producer. It’s a little sweeter than Scotland’s), Wild Scotsman, Compas Box (Oranerie was amazing! And I don’t like sweet drinks.), Dewar’s (actually gave samples of the $200 bottle and gave out cigars), Buffalo Trace, Glenfarclas, Woodford Reserve (still my favorite bourbon), Balvenie, and Maker’s Mark. And those are just the booths we actually visited, and each booth had about 4 different bottles to try. We decided not to go to Laphroaig, Ardbeg, Glenfiddich, and others that we know well and have at home.

Other little treats were Jim Murray, autographing copies of his Whiskey Bible, and Ian Gray, a self-titled “Whisky Artist.” He had prints of his watercolors of distilleries on Islay and some new ones of Woodford Reserve in Kentucky. He signed them and talked about living in a camper van and painting. We bought 2, one depicting Ardbeg Distillery and one depicting Bowmore barrels. They are a wonderful souvenir of the evening.

By 9:30, we were pretty much done. Hubby was really done. Less than an hour earlier, he had been boasting about how Scotch isn’t the same as drinking other alcohol—he was fine, he just couldn’t feel his tongue. Then we sat down for a few minutes to chat with some people, and that did it, he wasn’t able to walk any more. I went to the room to get cash to pay for the prints, and he said that someone asked him if he was OK. He said yes, but I decided no and steered him back to the room, holding on to his elbow, ever so gently maneuvering him down the hall and up the escalators, except for the times I actually had to hold him around the waist to bring him back in the right direction. Imagine an old man, arms bent at the elbows, closed fists, shuffling along, moving his arms back and forth with every step, that was Hubby.

I won’t go into the rest of the evening, you can use your imagination. He eventually slept. He woke up, took some Motrin, took a shower and announced it would be a long time before he drank again. He did make it to the Field Museum and Frontera Grill, but he was hurtin’. What a good sport.

So, will we go next year? Well, yeah! Now we know what to expect. Now we can plan our route and what we want to taste. Now we can plan to attend a seminar or two. Now we’ve got a year to recover. We’ll be ready!

Sitting Next to You in the Plane

The plane to Chicago was one the smallest I've been in. One and two seats with a tiny little aile seaprating them. Remember the scene in Airport where the flight attendant hit everyone in the back of the head with the guitar as she walked down the aisle? Anyone with a shoulder bag was doing the same thing here.

Hubby was across from me, and I sat with a friendly, petite lady named Lesley. She was reading Don't Kiss Them Goodbye by Allison DuBois, of Medium fame. I told her I had read that book because I like stuff like that, but it was a little creepy at times. Not creepy in a "don't go into the mad scientist's house on Halloween" sort of creepy, but come on, she talks to dead people. That's kind of creepy.

But Lesley doesn't find it creepy--she finds it comforting. She'd like to be able to tak to her mom again, and it's comforting to her that there's something after death. Now, if I was a good Baptist I would have used this opportunity to witness to her about salvation through faith in Christ and the comfort she can find there in being reunited with loved ones. But I'm not Baptist, I'm Methodist, and we just don't do that kind of thing. Besides, I still have some questions about all that, myself.

Nor did I remind her that most of the spirits DuBois talks to are still here because there is some unfinished business here or they died by some kind of violence. So, personally, I think it's more comforting that maybe they've moved on to something better and there's no need to come back.

But I just don't know. There are some people I'd like to talk to again. And I started to think maybe Lesley had a point. Maybe that book is more comforting than creepy. Then she said she really liked Jonathan Edwards and wondered if his show was still on. Well, I can't think of John Edwards without thinking of the South Park episode about him. I decided she was a nutter and went back to the comfort and concrete reality of my Backpacker magazine.

Airport Attire

It never ceases to amaze me the number of people I see at the airport wearing inappropriate shoes. I understand it--Shoes are the hardest part of traveling for me. I'm vain, and I want those great looking shoes, not just good-walking shoes. But in the airport, survival wins over vanity.

Now, I love to fly. and I feel perfectly safe flying, but realistically, planes crash (OK, maybe that should have been "fatalistically"). But really realistically, planes have engine trouble and have to stop at the end of the runway, while you wait for a bus to take you to the airport. And planes run late, forcing you to have 15 minutes to get to the opposite end of the airport for your connecting flight. For these reasons, and more, flip-flops, slides, clogs, stilletos, and 3-inch spike heels are not good choices.

If I have to slide down an emergency exit to a hard, cold ground and run away from the flames of death, I need shoes that will take me away, not one that still look good after they brush away the ashes.

And when I'm running down the concourse to my next plane, I want to worry about holding down my breasts, not curling my toes to keep my shoes on or balancing to keep my ankles from turning.

So people! Put the sandals, flip-flops and Jimmy Choo's in your suitcase and show off your best pair of tennies! Or at least something low heeled that completely encloses your foot. Don't make me run over you.

I Hate Being on Medication

Damn it all to hell! I've been spitting nails for almost 2 weeks now. It's like being permanently PMSing! Most people get depressed and suicidal on this medication, but noooooooo, I become Diva Bitch.

OK, yes, Avonex will slow down the progression of MS and yes, the side effects will wear off to nothing, but damn. At this rate I'm going to have to live at a hotel because no one can stand to be around me--even me!

Welbutrin? Prozac? Lexapro? I just may have to add another pill to my daily regime.

Just thought I'd get that out of the way.

Anticipating the Trip

For Christmas last year, I got hubby tickets for WhiskyFest in Chicago. I will never be able to top that gift. Actually, I could probably never give him anything else, and it would be ok. Not only did I get us the tickets, I reserved a room in the hotel it’s held at, so that all we have to do is crawl back up to our room. And, I ordered tickets for the Field Museum, so that all we have to do is walk up to the Will Call window, instead of standing in line forever with everyone else. This is something he has wanted to do for a long time, but we always had some excuse why we couldn’t go. I decided to stop making excuses and just do it. Yeah, it’s a chunk of money we could be spending on improvements on the house, but those improvements will be there when we get back. WhiskyFest may not!

Usually, the anticipation is the best part of anything for me. I daydream, I plan, I imagine how wonderful a trip will be. Then, reality hits. I have to do laundry, pack, make arrangements for the dog, stop the mail, stop the paper, get cash, get the hotel reservations, print out the airline reservations, gather the tourist information for what we’ve decided to do, and on and on and on. Errands ad nausia.

And then the nerves set in. We’re flying in, but not renting a car because we are going to Chicago. I’ve only been there once before, but I know we don’t want to drive a car in Chicago. So, we have to get to the hotel. There’s a shuttle to the hotel, but my first instinct is that hubby will complain about the cost. We could take a cab, but same as the shuttle. We could take the El, but it’s 4 blocks to the hotel and we will already be cutting it close to get there in time for the starting of the event. Plus, there’s no telling how long it will take us to figure out how to purchase tickets and then hope we get on the right train. My heart’s beating a little faster just thinking about that. I’ve never had to depend on public transportation, so I’m not really sure I can figure it out. I have a great fear of being lost and stranded. How can I be almost 40 and still be such a weenie?

But it will work out, and we will have a great time. I’m not a big scotch drinker, but this will be so much more than that. Just the same, I do kind of wish that my brother or some of Al’s friends were going with us so that he would have someone who can truly appreciate this event with him. I’m just excited about seeing men in kilts. Oh, and that we are going to eat at Frontera Gill. I’m excited about that! I’ve cooked so many Rick Bayless recipes, that it’ll be nice to let him cook for me.

Ooops. I hear the very polite “pings” of my dryer. One more load done and a couple more to go. Then packing. Then running errands. Then getting Daily’s stuff together . . .

Let's Play a Game

I watched one of my favorite movies last night. See if you can guess it by some lines from it:


Is you, or is you not my constituents?

I've counted to three.

He's bonafide. He's a keeper.

I'm a Dapper Dan man.

I'm gonna r-u-n-n-o-f-t

(and this one is a dead give away)

We...thought you...was a toad


Know what it is? Seen it?

Still Not Relieved

By way of my brother, by way of fellow blogger Lisa, I bought Refuse to Choose by Barbara Sher. I was intrigued by the subtitle "A Revolutionary Program for Doing Everything that You Love." That would be quite the accomplisment because there is A LOT that I love. If I made a list of current hobbies and interests, along with what I want to persue but just haven't had the time, it would be so long that it would just depress me because I think there's no way I can do all that!

So, I may be a scanner. I fit her descriptions, some of them any way, especially the ones about wanting to do so many things that I don't do anything and once the discovery is over, I'm not interested and I move on. And I've always felt like there was something wrong with me and that I was inferior because of it. One time when I was telling my husband about one of my latest "maybe I should try" things, he was quiet and nonresponsive. When I asked him why he told me it's because I don't finish anything I start, so he doesn't have an opinion. Now, this was a long time ago. He's learned that being that honest with me is not a good idea.

But I thought he was right. And the result was two-fold: 1)I stopped thinking about all the different things I could do and 2) I stopped confiding in my husband what I was thinking and dreaming. (This is where everyone goes, "Oooohhhhh. That's sad.")

But after a while I realized, who was I kidding? I couldn't stop going in different directions and I couldn't stop telling my hubby about it. After all, why the hell did I marry him if I couldn't ramble on about nothing to him.

So, now here's a book saying that I'm a scanner and that it's OK. And it's possible to use it to my advantage. I haven't gotten very far into it yet, only about 40 pages, but I'm going to read the whole thing. Even though my pattern is to skim and jump around to the stuff that's interesting to me then put it away, never to think about it again. Yet another symptom of a scanner--all gung ho and excited to get started then lose interest when something else comes along.

Anyway, let's see how this goes. Then I'll pass it along to other scanners I know because I'll be knee-deep in some other project.

Dream Job

Taste tester for Ben and Jerry's ice cream. How do you get a job like that?!? I was just watching a special on the Travel Channel about ice cream palaces.

I want to go to Vermont. I want to work there--in R&D and Taste Testing, of course.

Actually, I'd be happy taste testing just about any ice cream. Espcially the chunky stuff. Every now and then I just want vanilla or vanilla with chocolate syrup, but usually, the more ya pile in it the better.

And on this show, the narrator was giving a list about things they put in ice cream, ending with "even pretzels." What's wrong with pretzels in ice cream? I loooooove pretzels in my ice cream.

Well now I'm having a craving. I'm the ultimate consumer--suggest it and I'll want it.

All Tuckered Out

It wore Daily out to supervise our snow shoveling.

Over a Foot!

When the snow finally ended, we had over a foot. The roads are pretty clear, though, because they were so warm before the snow fell. It was really beautiful this morning. This picture is looking out our back door.

How Scared Must Bush Be

A news conference out of the blue? A blatant political move to boost the conservative cause in a time of important elections, that's what it was. Bush is the lowest he's been in the polls, the Republican are in real danger of losing their standing in upcoming state elections, and there is no front runner Republican for president. What's a good little boy to do? Why, go on TV and talk about how much good he's done and how much good conservatives have done and how we should keep the "conservative" course. I sure hope Americans are smart enough to see through this.

An article about the conference is here.

One of the money quotes for me when asked about a day there won't be a troops in Iraq: "That, of course, is an objective. And that will be decided by future presidents and future governments of Iraq," he said. Great. Throw us into this horrible war that you didn't realize would be going on this long and that things would stay so bad, but it won't be your problem to finish it. That'll be the next president. I think it's a tactical error because when I heard that quote I thought, "You're damn right it will be someone else's decision--a Democrat's decision!"

Anyone for a Snowball Fight?

This is the only bad thing about snow. Al even shoveled a spot for Daily in the backyard, but she still has to do a perimeter check and walk through the deepest snow. Hmmmmm. Something to be said for a hairless dog.

And It's Still Snowing!

We have at least 5 inches, and should have 12 to 14 by the time it's all over. Good thing I bought more hot chocolate!

JK Rowling Raises Money for MS

Besides being a wonderful and creative writer, JK Rowling also devotes her time and money to support MS research. She hosted a charity ball at Stirling Castle in Scotland on Friday night, raising £200,000. The article is here.

Rowling's mother died of MS, that's why she is such a strong supporter. There was a scavenger hunt, with Rowling writing the clues. How fun would that be?!?

There was also an auction. And one of my favorite writers, Ian Rankin, donated a chance to have the highest bidder's name to be used as a villian or hero in his next Rebus book. How cool is that?!?

What fun that would have been.

Snow Coming

Apparently, snow is heading towards us. I think it's pretty typical to get one more snow in March here in the midwest. It's a last hurrah for those of us who actually like the snow and the cold. Poor hubby. He's cold. He's been cold since October, and his mood is very much connected to the temperature of his feet. We're going to have to retire to differnt parts of the country, I'm afraid. I don't like being hot, and he doesn't like being cold. How have we lasted 16 years!?!

Anyway, snow. I hope it does. I hope it just dumps feets and feets of snow. Large, wet, heavy flakes that snow us in for at least 2 days. I want a good excuse to curl up on the couch in front of a fire, drink hot chocolate, and read a good book or finish knitting the hat I'm donating to the hospital for chemo patients. And Al doesn't have to work for the next 4 days, so if he wants to get out and drive around for fun, he can. Although, he's taken the snow tires off the Miata, so I guess he'll have to just drive the truck.

Yes, snow tires on the convertible sports car. You know you're a redneck when . . .
The first time was when we were in Ohio. My brother, who was up for Christmas, called me at work after our first big snow storm there. He said, "You're husband has a funny idea of fun." He told me he was putting snow tires on the Miata. The next thing I knew, I got an email from my crazy husband. It was a video from the inside of the car, and he was doing donuts in an empty parking lot. Maybe he could handle a little cold weather after all.

So, what should I read? I'm up to Black and Blue in the Rebus mystery series, but I haven't gotten it yet. I'm still reading The Artist's Way, but I'm taking that a week at a time so that I can actually do the exercises in the book (gotta get my brain going). Maybe Bel Canto? I've had that on my "read me" shelf for quite a while now. Or maybe The Historian? I can finally get that from the library without waiting for months at a time. I just don't know.

But first, I have to go get some more hot chocolate mix!

Doctor Who

The Sci Fi channel is showing the latest (2005) Doctor Who incarnation. Now, I'm not a "Who Geek." I swear. Although, I used to watch it every time it was on all those years ago on PBS. It was just great hokey fun. And I really liked Tom Baker's long, colorful scarf. Hmmm. I bet I could knit one of those!

The latest series, though, was really cool. They showed the premier last night--two episodes back-to-back, and I watched them both times! This new Doctor is so good. Very funny, very intelligent, very eccentric, and just so darn cute. He's Christoper Eccelston, and I've been a fan of his for a while. Since I instist on having BBC America where ever we live, I've seen him in several things. And if you've seen The Others (and you should) and/or 28 Days Later (and you should), then you've seen him, too. He was Nicole Kidman's husband and the terrifying military leader, in those movies.

Anyway, it was pretty good, and I'm looking forward to the next episodes. Especially next week because there are ghosts in it! I love ghost stories. Unfortunately, he only stayed in the role for one season. David Tennant, Barty Crouch in Harry Potter GOF, has taken over the role, filming now in the UK.

Check it out!

For Ireland

In honor of St. Patrick's day, here is one of my favorite Yeats poems. I love it because it captures that feeling of romantic daydreaming about being in a comforting and peaceful place. Probably because he was in London at the time, daydreaming of being home in Ireland.
Enjoy!

The Lake Isle of Innisfree
W.B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Morning Pages

I've been reading The Artist's Way on the recommendation of my good friend, Rose. It's pretty interesting, and I am finding myself in the author's descriptions. That "shadow voice" that tells you that you aren't good enough or creative enough, so you find other ways to be involved with artists instead of being one yourself. You buy pieces of art, you become a patron of the local theater, you take a job where you support other creative people, all because you are afraid to try to do it yourself and find that you are creative after all.

One of the exercises and something the author recommends doing every day is called "Morning Pages." I love this idea. It's just you, a pen, and a spiral notebook. You write steam of consciousness for 3 pages--whatever comes into your mind. This will dump all those extraneous thoughts in your head so that you can focus your thoughts on what you need to do that day. It also dumps all those self-conscious and destructive thoughts because you can write them out of your head instead leaving them in there to fester.

I had no problem filling 3 pages. And I did feel better. So, I think I'll keep trying it.

Craving

I'm craving cookies, so I think I'll make one of my favorites. I call them Road Trip Cookies because I always make them and take them on road trips. Brilliant, huh? We drove from San Antonio to Las Vegas in our Miata, and these cookies helped get us through those long stretches. Enjoy!

Road Trip Cookies

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar
3 eggs
1 18-oz jar smooth peanut butter (I prefer Skippy!)
3/4 teaspoon light corn syrup
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
4 1/2 cups regular oats, uncooked
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup mini chocolate chips (actually, I used almost the entire bag)

Using a mixer, cream butter, then gradually add both sugars. Beat well. Add eggs, peanut butter, syrup, and vanilla and beat well until all incorporated. Add oats, soda, and salt and mix well (you can do this step with a spoon since the dough gets pretty stiff). Stir in chocolate chips.

Using a 1/4-cup measuring cup, drop dough 4 inches apart onto lightly greased cookie sheet, or cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Lightly press each cookie into a circle with fingertips. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 to 15 minutes (centers of cookies will be soft). Cool slightly on cookie sheet then remove to cooling rack to cool completely. Makes about 2 1/2 dozen.

Where's the Outrage?!?

OK, South Dakota makes it's stand against abortion because life begins at conception. In France, The European Courts of Human Rights has ruled that Natalie Evans can't keep her frozen embryos by an ex-fiance and they must be destroyed. Hello? Where are all the self-righteous pro-lifers? The articles is here. There's another good article here.

Basically, Ms. Evans had cancer and they had to remove her ovaries. She and her then-fiance fertilized her eggs and had them frozen. But they broke up and the ex has decided he doesn't want to be a daddy and withrew his consent for her to use them.

Maybe the right-to-lifers don't care because this happened in another country? Hasn't stopped them before. Baptisits make it part of their calling to go to other countries to get them to change their ways to Christian values.

Maybe they don't feel like they can fight British law: under British law an embryo does not have independent rights or interests. Interesting. I wonder, do we have a law like that? Is fertilization not the same as conception? Is it only life if it's in a womb?

Or maybe it's because it's ok for a man to have a say about when he has children, but it's not ok for a woman? In the article, the ex is quoted, “The key thing for me was just to be able to decide when and if I start a family. So, that's been the basis for it,” he told journalists in Cheltenham, England. Yikes! Why does his say over-rule hers?

The article for the The Globe and Mail said that they were asking the embryos not be destroyed in case Evans can think of something else, but the article in my paper said they were going to be destroyed.

Again, where is the outrage?

Hope Against Hope

In my next life, I'm coming back as Kiera Knightly.

Charmed No More

I'm sad. Charmed is ending after 8 seasons on the WB. It was supposed to end last year, but was renewed one more time. But this will be the last year.

And I only have one thing to say--They better bring Leo back and have him and Piper live happily ever after!

I'm sad to see it go, but there are always the reruns. And I haven't been following it as closely this last year as I did before, so I guess it's time.

But still.

Buffy, Angel, now Charmed. There's nothing for Al and Jay to tease me about watching now.

Got My Aura Back

When I was a teenager, I was the babysitter--kids loved me. And all through my 20s and my early 30s, when my friends where having babies and I was surrounded by kids, kids loved me. But then I hit that age where my friends' kids were growing up and there weren't any more coming along. Then we found another couple who were DINKs like we were, so I wasn't around kids any more. Then I went into the "the dark period" and didn't care if I had friends at all. And somewhere in there, I lost my "kid aura."

Babies didn't lunge for me any more. Kids didn't come running up to hug Miss Kelley any more. I realized this the hard way when I volunteered to babysit my friend's 3 month old, who screamed and cried the whole time I was there. This is like separation anxiety to the extreme! I felt pretty helpless, calling my friend apologetically wondering if she should come home. But this was her third kid, so she said he would calm down eventually. Well, he didn't, no matter what I did. Actually, he calmed down a little when I turned on Dora the Explorer, but that show lasted only about 20 minutes, dammit. So, he cried until his mom came home. And even though I've never been haunted by the ticking clock, I felt bad that I had lost some kind of bond with kids that used to be so natural to me.

Until yesterday. I have a friend who after giving up on having a baby, of course, got pregnant. Her little boy is 3 months old, and I was hesitant to be around him. It had been 2 years since the last 3-month-old cryfest, and I hadn't been around a baby since. Luckily, I had nothing to worry about.

While Mom put together a frame (framing has become a necessary hobby), I held the little one, who was fussy because he needed a nap. But as I held him, he smiled and giggled and seemed genuinely happy to be held and cuddled. After doing that stand and sway thing for a while, and him still awake, my back yelled at me sit the hell down! So, I did. I rubbed his tummy while he sucked on his thumb and before I knew it, he was aleep! Hmmm, that tummy rub works pretty well--just like a little alligator without teeth. I put him back in his car seat, and Mom promised me lunch next time we go out. Score! Sleeping baby and a free lunch!

So, I guess I didn't lose my aura completely; it just went dormant for a while. Hmmm, I wonder what other things will perk up?

Blowin' in the Wind

I'm not real great with heights, but I walked up to the top of this observation tower at the local state park. Did you know that perfectly secure structures sway when you get up that high? Woooooh! That's a little freaky. Funny how you forget your science until you get up there. Plus, the stairs were open, so I could see the ground getting further away with each step. However, the view is gorgeous up there. Contrary to popular belief, Nebraska is actually really pretty. A little flat, and it's still the middle of nowhere, but it's pretty.

Still, I was happy to be on the ground again.

Just Silly

The authors of The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail are suing Dan Brown because they say he stole their ideas for The DaVinci Code. Good grief.

First of all, they presented their book as nonfiction. Therefore, it's a theory that can be used and talked about. Therefore, writing a work of fiction that brings forth a known theory, is not stealing! Geez.

Second of all, The DaVinci Code has been out and on the bestseller list for over 3 years. And now that the movie is getting ready to come out, NOW they want to sue. Unbelievable.

I hate being manipulated.

Knitting Projects

Here are two of the latest knitting projects I'm working on. The small one is a baby hat for a friend's new baby (it's being knitted in the round). The other is a poncho that I can't wait to get done!

Sex Pistols Vs Hall of Fame

The Sex Pistols have turned down an invitation to be inducted into the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame. Well, duh! Does this really surprise anyone? I would be disappointed if they did show up.

Here's the article. Warning, if you are stickler for grammar, don't read very closely. Then again, if you're a stickler for grammar, you probably aren't interested any way.

The Women of Today

Jay sent me an article that he knew would get those hairs on the back of my neck up. And he was right, so I have share it here. It is an article about how the Southern Baptists are trying to take over control of the women's missionary union. The women's group has been independent since 1888. But, the SBC doesn't like that they work with other Baptists or the fact that they don't have any control over this group. And those are not my words, read the article here.

Then Jay said, "Aren't you glad so many of your fellow women voted for Bush?" Of course I'm not happy so many voted for Bush. And I'm surrounded by women who did, who are equally shocked that I didn't. I don't know how to explain to them that I see a train wreck coming when they are so blissfully happy.

Women are just reflecting the movement that been coming for years. They stopped supporting each other as they acquired more (what they perceived of as) power, then wondered why they felt so disillusioned and alone. So, they turned to husbands and families to fill the void and now they are conservatives!

Women have to feel needed and they want to be warm—that’s what the feminist movement has failed to admit and accept. The image of the cold-fish, powerful, intellectual woman who has sex when SHE wants to just isn’t appealing at the end of the day. I think that women want balance in their lives, and after all these years they still battle that because they have the extremist yelling at them that they are doing it wrong. No wonder they are relenting and letting their husbands or men in general take over. They’re tired, and it’s just easier to let someone else do the heavy stuff, so that they can take care of things at home. Look how the first thing people say on those home shows is, “We just love to entertain.” Woman as hostess, woman as cook, woman as homemaker—that’s where their pride lies. And there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as they realize that encouraging women to abdicate their power back to men, they are also giving up the choices and the independence the women before them worked so hard to achieve.


End rant. For today.

Laughter in Heaven

Don Knotts passed away. I'm sure he's keeping everyone laughing in heaven.

Cross SD off the list

Well, on my list of places I might want to live in or visit, guess you can cross off South Dakota. I just can't believe they are seriously considering outlawing abortion. It's not a debate about the morality of abortion for me, it's about a woman's right to choose being taken away. A legal procedure that is being outlawed because a group of men are trying to push their agenda. It's really hard to put this into words because I'm so angry.

*I'm angry at this group of men deciding what's best for the women of the state.

I'm angry at conservatives for manipulating the American public to the point of controling the most personal and individual choice a woman has.

*I'm angry that conservatives preach and preach about small government and how the liberals are trying to tell you how to live your life, yet they have been chipping away at our right to choose for years. And it looks like they are succeeding because the American public are too naive to see they are being dictated to instead of led.

*I'm angry that so many important concerns are being ignored to benefit the converstive, right wing, Christian Coalition agenda--SD would not allow abortion in any situation other than the life of the mother, ignoring rape, incest, poverty, so on.

*I'm angry at the image in my head of a group of smug, old, arrogant men laughing and hi-fiving each other with their Bibles for finally putting women in their place and for pushing the conservative agenda ever closer to the point of domination over all our freedoms.

*I'm angry that I know these people supporting this new ban don't give a damn about the women in their state. All they care about is their political position. This is just the first step. Next step will be other states, then the Supreme Court. [Shudder]

Think I'm exaggerating? I don't. Wake up! We're being manipulated and controlled by a group of crusty old men who want to control everything in our lives. Don't let it happen! Vote out the republicans!

Yes, I Can!

I gave myself a shot today! I practiced on an orange, then I did it. And holy cow, it was easy and painless. And that's a good thing because I pretty much have to do this once a week for the rest of my life. So, good thing it was easy.

I have a mild case of MS, but with medication, it hopefully won't get much worse for a long time. The Avonex I'm taking slows the progression of the disease and decreases the number of flare ups I'll have. And if it works, it's worth one little shot a week.

I'm just so friggin' proud of myself. I'm not horribly needle-phobic and I had really worked on calming myself down and felt ready for it. But I'm still proud of myself.

And can I admit something really kind of silly? I was watching the propaganda informational DVD that came with my medicine, fully expecting to be talked down to. But I'm actually glad I watched it, just for the testimonials. Not only because one of the hosts of the DVD was a neurologist who has MS (he has MS and can still be a doctor!) but because there was a young woman who admitted that one of the things that had upset her about having MS was that she couldn't wear her favorite high heel boots and shoes again. But being on the medication she can. And I started crying because I had thought the same thing! It's such a simple thing, but I want to wear my high-heeled boots! I like how I look and feel in them, and I was afraid that as this disease got worse, I'd be wearing old-lady, comfortable shoes. I know, such a shallow thing, but somehow it represented some of the freedom I might be losing, and here was this woman saying that it doesn't have to be that way.

OK. That's enough confessions for one night. I'll do lighter stuff later. It's probably time for a Daily Dog update. Or I'll take a picture of my latest knitting projects. Anything but talking about illness.

Been a long time

Jay scolded me because I haven't posted in a while. I've been busy.

Sort of.

OK, I'll admit it. I've been playing this totally addictive game that I got to from Fark. com. It's called Blueprint and you can find it here.

I'm only on level 7 and I'm stuck! I can't figure out how to get that stupid ball to hit the target. And the game is so new that there aren't any tips yet. So, I sent it to my friends and family, knowing that they, too, would become addicted. Then someone would figure out that damn seventh puzzle and tell me how to do it.

I'm still waiting!

So, I guess I'll just try it again. There's got to be a way!

Buonasera

I’m learning Italian because I’m going to Italy next year. I’ve learned that “Ciao” is very familiar, that cappuccino is considered a morning drink, and that to pronounce “grazie” correctly, you have to pronounce the “eh” at the end, not just “ee”.

I’ve also learned that I probably will not be speaking much Italian when I go to Italy because all I can remember after 6 weeks is “Mi chiamo Kelley.”

It’s a fun class and it’s a beautiful language, but I’m just not putting the time into it that I should (there’s that damn “should” word again). It’s a non-credit class with no tests, so I only have my own encouragement and self-discipline to learn. THAT won’t work. Plan B!

OK, there is no Plan B. I’m going to become comfortable with this language. At least I can read a menu and count, so I can eat and pay for my food. I figure that’s pretty good. But they speak so quickly, that I need to find out how to say, “Can you repeat that slowly, please?” I need to get a list of comments like that and “Where is the bathroom” and ask my teacher, Rosalie, how to say them.

We have a 2-week break, then we start Italian II. So, I’ve got 2 weeks to get up to speed on the stuff I should already be up to speed on.

Ciao!

Burrrrrr!

It's so cold here that it froze our friggin' cable! Aaaaahhhhh! No Internet access! We actually got up early and went to Panera Bread Company for breakfast because they have free Wi-Fi. And Al doesn't like Panera!

Good ego boost, though--I had mucho emails from my friends and families. Most just chatting. I love email.

So, how cold is it? The high today is 8, and the low last night and tonight is -2 or colder. But did we let the cold stop us? Hell no! We went out for pizza with friends then went out for dessert with them then went to a motorcycle show today. Yeah, I know. Kelley went to a motocycle show? That's just the kind of supportive and loving wife I am. Actually, it was pretty cool. There was some "Orange County Chopper" style bikes there, and some really old Harleys, Indians, and Triumphs. And leather! Holy Cow I've never seen so much leather in all my life. And chains, but we won't go there.

The cool thing is that I got a red rubber "Support MS" band. The MS Society has a motorcyle "Poker Run" fundraiser. It's like the yellow Lance Armstrong bands, which I would have too, but since I've recently been diagnosed with MS, I decided to get one. It's cool and it seems to cheer me to wear it. For some reason, when I look at it, it reminds me that just because I have MS, doesn't mean everything is over. It reminds me there is still a lot of work being done and that there are people out there who support MS research and care. It also kind of reminds me to be happy and go out and do! Not because I should before it's too late, but because there's no reason not to.

Mmmmmmmm, Al made coffee and it's almost done brewing. And genius that he is, he's decided we should put Irish Cream in it. Double Mmmmmmm. I think I'll pour a big cup and pick a new book to read. Hmmmmm. Mystery, adventure, or nonfiction? Choices, choices, choices.

I Should Be

I had a therapist once tell me that I had a huge “should list.” Part of our sessions were convincing me that some of those things aren’t really “shoulds,” and that I put too much pressure on myself to do everything that I think I should be doing instead of what I really should be doing. Does that make sense?

No, I didn’t think so. Basically, she’s telling me I’m trying to take on too much and that maybe, just maybe, some of the things I beat myself up over, aren’t so important and therefore should not be a “should.”

So, what to do? Why, make a list of course! Ya gotta start somewhere. I can’t cull until I know what I’m dealing with. So, here it goes, in no particular order.

I should be:
1. Exercising every day instead of lucky-to-get-it-in-three-times-a-week.
2. Cleaning the house more often and more completely.
3. Vacuuming more than every 3 weeks or so. Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t vacuum. I just keep putting it off until Al can’t stand it and he’ll vacuum.
4. Cleaning my shower more often. One word: Eww
5. Eating 5 servings of fruits and vegetables a day.
6. Not eating 5 servings of something fried a day.
7. Spending more time reading a book rather than reading Project Runway message boards.
8. Typing up the stuff from the committee I’m chairing for the church bulletin instead of typing this silly list.
9. Trying to stop procrastinating. Oh look, there’s an episode of Charmed I’ve only seen 4 times; guess I better watch it again.
10. Figuring out what to cook for dinner.
11. Actually cooking dinner.
12. Cooking healthier meals.
13. Brushing my dog every day so that when I take her into the groomer, she doesn’t look at me like I’m the Joan Crawford of Doggie Moms.
14. Traveling more.
15. In Scotland.
16. Preparing for our trip to Italy next year.
17. Studying my Italian language homework.
18. Writing every day.
19. Finishing that short story and send it out.
20. Working on that novel I’ve been wanting to write and can’t sleep because I keep dreaming scenes for it.
21. Petting my dog. I will love her and pet her and squeeze her and hug her and call her Daily Dog.
22. Loving Al more.
23. Not taking Al for granted.
24. Telling my family that I love them.
25. Forgiving my father.
26. Not worrying about my mom, my brother, my husband, and my dog all the time.
27. Going out with my girlfriends instead of staying alone in my house.
28. Pampering myself more often, maybe my skin would look better.
29. Shaving my legs more often.
30. Praying more often.
31. Knitting more often and actually finishing the projects I’ve started.
32. Scrapbooking more often and actually finishing the projects I’ve started.
33. Painting the closets, my bathroom and my craftroom.
34. Learning how to spin yarn.
35. Appreciating that I have a warm house, food in the frig, and a husband who loves me, puts up with me, and takes care of me. And he’s a nice guy, too.
36. Not feeling like I’ve wasted a huge part of my life since I’ve been diagnosed with MS, as if I won’t be able to do the things I still want to do.
37. Liking myself more than I do.
38. Letting people like me and letting them in.
39. Dreading the weekly shot of Avonex.
40. Giving myself a break.

OK, that’s enough. It’s getting late, and I really should be working on other stuff.

Should? I’m growing to dislike that word immensely

Ya Gotta Stretch Yourself

When I volunteered to chair a committee for our church's pledge campaign, I thought it would be very good for me. I thought I needed to stretch myself and start taking on some responsibility and using my brain again, after a year break while living in Ohio.

Right aftwards, I decided I was out of my mind! What was a I thinking? Leading a Spiritual Life committee with 10 members, all looking to me for orders and direction? Never again.

But, I was right the first time. It was a good idea for me to take this on and to stretch myself. I'm working with an amazing group of people who are willing to do anything to help. And not only that, they thank me for the work I do! I don't think that's happened before.

So, this stretching myself and taking on things that might make me uncomfortable is good thing. I should do it more often.

And I'll probably get the chance, especially with this church. I made the mistake of telling my pastor that I was a little bored. You should never tell your pastor that you're bored--He will always have something for you to do. But that's OK. I need things to do to get me motivated to do more.

Cheney Takes Responisibility

Seems to be the theme of this administration, "I take full responsibility," after I've tried to blame someone else and the American public saw through it. Now that the injuries are worse than first thought, now that it's not just a matter of him not coming forward sooner, now that he has no other choice, NOW he takes the blame.

Unbelievable. Arrogant. Cold-hearted and typical.

This is a horrible story. It would be horrible whoever it happened to, but it's even more horrible that it has happened to a leader of the country. Not because he's more important, but because he sets an example, a bad one. The first stories came out that the poor old man (notice how many times they gave Whittington's age?) didn't let Cheney know. What did they tell Whittington's family? "Sorry your dottering old man didn't let me know he was there like he was supposed to"? Did they also tell the family to stay quiet? Haven't heard much from them.

But let's not think about the victim, let's think about poor, "shaken" Cheney. Yes, it sucks that he has to go through this publicly, but that's what happens when you are the second most powerful politician/man in the country. You're held to a higher standard. And I don't blame them for waiting until they knew Whittington was OK before they released the information. And I do think they had more than a say in what Armstrong said to the press. And it was a bad decision to give it to the Corpus Christi paper. That's not a slam on their paper or their importance in this country, that's a statement of opinion. It was a low-down, sneaky thing to do. Make it seem like not such a big idea by giving it to the local press. Then, when it come out, blame the national news as bad losers:

"I had a bit of the feeling that the press corps was upset because, to some extent, it was about them — they didn't like the idea that we called the Corpus Christi Caller-Times instead of The New York Times," he said. "But it strikes me that the Corpus Christi Caller-Times is just as valid a news outlet as The New York Times is, especially for covering a major story in south Texas." Cheney.

None of this was handled well, and it's just another example of this administration thinking they are so much smarter and so much above the citizens they are vowed to serve.

Is There No Hope at All?

Sheesh! First, a low-fat diet isn't the cure-all that everyone thinks. Turns out it doesn't have as big effect on heart disease and cancer as we thought.

Now, calcium isn't as good as we thought! The latest is here. I'm not quite to the age that I have to worry about this, but I always felt a little safe because I get a lot of calcium, being a big milk drinker, cheese eater, yogart eater, orange juice with calcium drinker . . . But now, even a supplement isn't enough.

There's just no hope. Might as well go eat Fish-n-Chips at the Dundee Dell and drink some more beer.

Not Surprised

Your Inner European is Irish!

Sprited and boisterous! You drink everyone under the table.

Who's Your Inner European?

That's OK, Too!

Woo Hoo! If it can't be the PBGV, then the Scottish Deerhound is just as good! This is Ch Thistleglen Margot. The deerhound took Best Hound. Now, onto Best in Show!

White House Finds Humor in Hunting Mishap

Yet, I don't find it funny at all. But that's this administration for you. Try to get away from anything that might show them in a bad light by making jokes and demeaning the whole issue. If this had been Hillary, do you think they'd be making these jokes? Here's the article.

Root for the PBGV!!

Ch Celestial CJ's Jolly Fairchild is the PBGV competing in Westminster tonight. Root for Best Hound then on to Best in Show!

You Know You've Been Married A Long Time When . . .

You don't do anything for Valentine's Day and you don't feel guilty. OK, maybe a little guilty. Al brought home flowers, a card and some Godiva hearts last night. They were still in the store sack, so he just brought them out one at a time and handed them to me. It was really kind of sweet. No more pretense in this relationship! He'll be working on the day, so he got the stuff early. Then I realized that I hadn't gotten him anything!

He said not to worry about it and don't do anything. He knows I've been a little preoccupied with the diagnosis and immanent weekly shots. So, I'm going to take him up on that.

Then my wonderful brother and mother sent cards and Snickers hearts! OK, now I really feel guilty. I didn't get them anything, either. But they, too, understand, I'm sure.

One of these days, everything will become routine again, and I won't feel like I'm just making it one day at a time. Then maybe I'll start working on some changes in my attitude and get some stuff done.

Maybe I should make a list? Naw. Too broad right now. I need to wait until I can think of specific goals. So, I'll just put that off for a while! Yeah! See, I'm returning more to normal every day!

For the Scotland Fans

Been watching Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman in "Long Way Round," and McGregor makes me want to go back to Scotland. So, just thought I'd throw up a picture of a Scottish Coo.

Just Too Wild!

This is a gorgeous dog, but Wow! Al calls it the "rasta" dog. I've seen these dogs as puppies and the don't have this coat. It developes over time into those cords. Just amazing. It didn't win Best Working Dog, the rottie did, but this is such a cool dog!

And Yet Another Fraud

I've been reading about "JT LeRoy" being a fraud for a a while, but now it is official. The latest article is on cnn.com. The actual writer, Laura Albert, wanted to get her work recognized. Congratulations, it worked! Aren't you proud? You aren't really a 25-year-old former male prostitute and drug addict; you're a liar and a fraud. How did you get yourself into this? Didn't you think for a moment, "This will never work. This has been tried before, and they almost always get caught."

The article says that she did it for her estranged partner, Geoffrey Knoop. Estranged? So, now that you aren't a couple any more, there's no bond there to keep the secret? Apparently, Mr. Knoop just couldn't handle the pressure of deceiving the public:

"He's wanted to come clean and let JT fade away," attorney Eric Feig said of Knoop late Monday. "He wanted to take the high road."

Yet, the next sentence:

He's also secured a movie deal to tell his side of the story, Feig said.

Beautiful. I wonder how much Albert is getting for her side of the story. And I wonder if she'll get to write the screenplay.

Cute Daily Pic

"A little help here." Daily wants to go for a ride. Unfortunately, you can't see her tail wagging. She loves going for a ride.

Project Runway Is Taking Over

OK, I admit it. After the new episode of Project Runway, I go directly to the website and read Tim's Blog and listen to his podcast and read the boards. I can't help it! I'm addicted to this show, and I don't know anything about making clothes, let alone fashion. But I like reading all the remarks and sometimes I actually agree with them.

This week, Nick was out. I haven't blogged after every new episode, or you would believe me on this next statement: I saw it coming. He wasn't making good choices any more, and the judges were getting tired of him. Not that I think those judges really have any say in who's in or who's out, but still, the writing was on the wall.

Speaking of writing, the reason all this is pretty predictable has to do with writing technique. If I was writing this as a book, how would I hint that a favorite designer was going to be out? OK, besides having a commercial where Heidi says, "Next week, one of your favorites will be out." How would I structure the favorite designer leaving?

The designer who seemed so strong, starts to fall apart. He begins to falter under the pressure, swinging between being a drama queen who has been wronged to being an over-confident yet spoiled child who won't stop to think about what he's doing. The judges start complaining that they are tired of seeing the same ol' design from him ("If I see a fishtale hem again I'm going to scream"). He ends up in the bottom of the pack, instead of the top. He's missed being "out" twice, now.

He is soooooo out of there.

Yet, there's a more practicle, plot-line reason he has to go: Because now the real drama of who will be the final three can be played out on the next episode, where we are down to 4--1) Chloe--the expert technician who always does a flawless job, even though it's not always that exciting; 2) Daniel--the recent fashion school graduate who has come out of his shell to win at least four challenges and had immunity on this last one, saving him from a good chance of being out; 3) Kara--the other girl, the one who sews well, but is unsure of herself, so much so that she is always asking other's advice. There's no way this woman has an original, high-fashion line in her; and 4) Santino--the rebel, the obnoxious one who pisses everyone off not only because he pushes the envelope of fashion but because many times he does it badly, resulting in an unwearable and down-right ugly garmet. Yet, he stays.

High drama in deed.

God! I can't wait for next week!!!!

Oh, and I really think Kara will be gone next week. She may do a really pretty evening gown, but there won't be anything really special about it. And, like I said, I just can't see her doing a whole line, which is what the final three have to do. Besides, there are over 90 pages on the PR message board, most of the messages complaining about Santino. Why would they give that up by getting rid of him?

But, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong.

A Mild Case, but . . .

The doctor thinks I have a relatively mild case of MS. My symptoms are suble, and usually, whatever symptoms you have in the first 3 to 5 years is what you'll be dealing with through your life of the disease. So, I'm getting off easy, and I feel very lucky that they caught this with only 1 lesion showing up on my MRI, a little pain in my cheek, a little fatigue, and a little problem losing words.

But.

Did you know all the medication for MS is through injections that I'll have to give myself? I'm lucky that I'm getting the smallest dose and that it is only once a week. However, it's a bigger needle and has to go into a muscle (thigh, rump). I was pretty upset, but I'm starting to come around. I understand how this will help me. It will slow down the disease so it won't be too debilitating too early. And it reduces the number of lesions and relapses I'll have. And that's great. Unfortunately, it won't stop the symptoms I already have, so they will always be with me. Makes sense I guess, there's nerve damage. Can't repair that.

So, the nurse will come and show me and Al how to give the shot. Once a week for the rest of my life, I'll do this. Kind of hard to wrap my head around that. But maybe they'll have an oral medication in that lifetime. And maybe they'll find a way to create this medicine without it costing over $1,000 a month! Again, I'm lucky. I have a husband in the military with a good health care plan. There are ways to get help and insurance for those who need it, but how frustrating to have to be dealing with a disease, an injection, and the costs of it all.

A friend said I was so strong and stoic. Hmmm. I don't think so, really. It's just something that I have to do. I have my moments that I feel sorry for myself. And I imagine that the next day Al is at work, I'll be spending most of it crying into my pillow to release all this stress and fear. But, really, I know how lucky I am. I got diagnosed quickly and early, I got diagnosed at a time when there is medication available that will help, I have good health care and good health insurance, and I've got the support of my family and friends. I try to remember all that.

Gotta Be Smarter Than The Machine

And I'm not. But I finally got my avatar up. Actually, Jason, my brother, got it up for me. After many "why won't this work" emails, he got it to work for me. He even suggested this one.

Ain't Daily cute? Wow. This was in one of her fuzzy stages. We clip her in the summer, but let her get all shaggy for the winter.

Diagnosed

What a stange feeling it is to know that you have a disease.

It was confirmed yesterday that I do have Multiple Sclerosis. Huh. And the only emotional response I had was, "Whew." No crying. No "why me?" No, pity party. I was actually relieved. Finally, there's a reason for why I have this pain and feel the way I do! I'm not crazy! I'm not a hypochondriac! I'm not a whiner!

Whew.

OK, I'm still a whiner, but not about being sick.

Everyone else was surprised. When one has a test, such as a spinal tap, everyone seems obligated to be optimistic. And I felt obligated to be optimistic right along with them, but I knew what the results were going to be. That's not being pessimistic, it's being realistic. It's just too much of a coincidence. I have a pain in my cheek that runs along the trigeminal nerve, the radiologist who reviewed my MRI said the white spot was consistent with patients with MS, the attitude of the neurologist changed while he looked at my MRI and he ordered a spinal tap, and the optometrist did a peripheral vision test and my blind spots are "larger than she likes to see." The cards were pretty stacked. The spinal fluid just proved what I already knew--I was positive for Oligoclonal Bands and IGG (immunoglobulin) in my spinal fluid. Patient is positive for MS.

So, my friends and family are wonderfully sympathetic and supportive. They are trying deal with the news. I'm ahead of them on that because I've been dealing with it for weeks now. I'm ready with my response that this is not a fatal diagnosis and it could be years and years before it gets really bad. If all I have to deal with is a little pain in my cheek, hell, I'm getting off lucky.

There is something scary. Of all the symptoms of MS (and no one has all of them), the one that upsets me most is loss of cognitive ability. Unfortunately, I think that's one of my symptoms. Not horribly noticable, but thinking back, there maybe some loss there. The most obvious for me is losing words. Now, I know everyone has moments when they can't remember a word. I understand how common that is, but at the risk of sounding like a whiner, it's not the same. I'll be talking to Al, and I come to a word I just can't say. I know what it is and I know what I want to say, but I just can't get it from my head to my mouth. It's more than "on the tip of my tongue." It's in a fog that it appears then disappears into, and I can't get it. I didn't forget the word, it's lost. And it won't come to me later. I can say words similar to it, and eventually, Al figures out what I'm saying and supplies the word for me. Damn. It is so frustrating. And it's very scary. What's the one thing I want to make a living at? Writing. And what's the one disease I get? One that takes away my ability to come up with words.

OK, so maybe I'm having a little pity party. It's really not that melodramatic, but in those wee hours when everyone else is asleep and my mind is racing, this is where it goes.

So, the goal now, besides getting to the MS clinic and getting on medication, is to enjoy and do as much as I can while I'm strong enough to do it. And I better get busy! There are stories to write, countries to explore, Scotch to drink, yarns to knit, and books to read (I'm way behind in my Ian Rankin books).