Monday, September 01, 2014

More Political Opinions That You Can Skip If You Don't Like Uninformed Commentary. But If That's Who You ARE, Why Are You HERE?

One of my customers told me recently that another customer had told her about my blog. She went on to say that she didn't really read blogs. I told her that was too bad;  I tried to be a one-stop shop for puerile views and comments.
Like these:
Back in April of 1964, I read an article by Dwight D Eisenhower in the Saturday Evening Post called Why I Am A Republican. I probably didn't read it closely then because I was only nine, and because I was still pretty jumpy after March of that year. To be honest, I didn't reread it all that closely just now either. The salient points seem to be that Democrats were big government socialists, and Republicans were yeoman freeholders standing against the encroaching forces of Communism and (possibly worse, because harder to discern) liberalism.
So, I never directed the Colossus that saved the free world, nor became president of the US and then Columbia, but I was a Republican for a long time, and now I'm not. When Ike was president, the Republican party stood for something, or at least they seemed to. Now they only seem to stand for protecting the interests of the very richest people and businesses at the expense of the rest of us, and against anything proposed by the current president. Some, think that this obstructionism fulfills the dream of the founding fathers that the Senate would be a place of deliberation that would slow the headlong rushing of the House. But the founders believed in deliberation leading to compromise to achieve goals not just obstruction and paralysis. Even Ike, while wanting people to stand on their own two feet, gave them roads to drive on with the biggest government construction projects since the pyramids. There is a balance between free people joining together in a community and the Republican's Lord of the Flies approach to individualism.
Republican Dan Sullivan is running for the Senate on a platform that includes repealing Obamacare. It's hard to see what he'd replace it with since Obamacare is the Republican's own plan. I guess the good thing that might come out of all this is that if Republicans only believe in opposing the president, we might finally get the single-payer plan that every other country with good outcomes and low cost healthcare has.
In any event, given that Sullivan might be the member that would tip the Senate, and thus Congress, back to the Republicans, even if I liked him better than I do, I couldn't vote for him. Although

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

"I Can't Think About That Right Now. If I Do, I'll Go Crazy. I'll Think About That Tomorrow."

Today I heard the Moody Blues invitation to ride their seesaw. I heard it in the same place I heard it originally, the room that was my bedroom in 1968 and is now our office. And aren't seesaws a metaphor for life? You go up and down, and you end up right where you started.
Yesterday Karen and I went to a financial advisor. He told us that I could retire right now, and we could have a pretty rocking life style.
Then at 3:30 this morning, the police rang our doorbell. Once again, someone was going through cars on our street. Since our glove box was open, the officer wanted to know if anything had been stolen. "I don't know what it would be, it's all been stolen already, " I said.
  After I got back in bed, I couldn't fall back to sleep because I was thinking about something I hadn't really considered that the advisor had said. We would be fine until I turned 85 and we ran out of money. It had sounded pretty good, and I wasn't planning on living to 85 anyway. But what if do?

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Wired Magazine Says Complaining Is Not An Art

So apparently, my idea of dropping pastels and bon mots and working only in complaints is, according to Wired, just annoying. Which is in itself annoying, so here we are, full circle. Full, vicious circle.
In 1849, Thoreau wrote that  “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” Because I basically dropped out of high school to become a dishwasher, (fact check: I had to work several months before being promoted to dishwasher)  I've never read Thoreau except in quote form, so I don't know what song he's referring to. I get the desperation, though. This morning, I wanted to attach some papers to some other papers. I found boxes and boxes (and even more unboxed) staples and a staple remover. But even though we have several, no stapler. 
The only reason I'm even here blogging and trying to staple is because I've had to look away from the book I'm reading, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena. So much has happened that it's  impossible to believe in a happy ending. But because I'm so invested in the dwindling cast of characters, I know I'll go back and finish it soon. 
I did finish Elizabeth is Missing recently. Terrifying and heart breaking by turns, but also funny and engrossing. People faced with caring for parents suffering from dementia (and here I'm talking to you, Sarah) should probably read it.
Oh, and finally, if you live in Alaska, don't forget to vote on Tuesday or sooner. Unless you're planning on voting No. You can forget.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

And An Exaltation Of Larks

This is probably going to be mostly about Alaskan politics unless I can find the words to describe the last few days. I probably won't though, since yesterday was mostly given over to trying to remember the first name of the guy that owns the neighborhood gas station (Fred), and what I used to think about the Simpsons (transgressive). Today's challenge was to recall the name, Sammy Davis, Jr. I got a customer to help me with that by saying, "You know, the guy that sang 'Candyman'." And now I can't forget that execrable song.  Well, okay, that was the last few days.

I  heard a report today that music with a heavy bass line makes people feel more powerful and more in charge of their lives. Based on our inability to stand up to oil companies, it would appear that Alaskans only listen to flutes, lutes and dog whistles. The messages being put out are infuriating in their inaccuracies and incessance. Spellcheck thinks that "incessance" isn't a word, but using oily logic, if I keep saying incessance long enough it will gradually become a word we all believe in without even thinking about incessance. 

One candidate, Joe Miller (just one race away from being, perennial candidate, Joe Miller) is adept at dog whistle issues. We can't  know what he thinks about SB 21. He says he's voting no, but he also said, "I lied about accessing all of the computers. I then admitted about accessing the computers, but lied about what I was doing." 
But then ethics has never been a strong point of Alaskan politics. Here's a case in point (and click).


Tuesday, August 05, 2014

“The Race Is Not Always To The Swift Nor The Battle To The Strong, But That's The Way To Bet.”~Damon Runyon

Notwithstanding Damon Runyon's tip, and even though oil companies have outspent the Yes people 100 to 1, I thought that Alaskans would see through their oily evangelism. Recent polls suggest that's not the case. I'm not smart enough to understand the ramifications of the law and the repeal, so I have to decide who to trust to help make the decision. That is, should I trust Bill Walker who I know from personal experience to be a man of integrity,  and Vic Fisher who helped write our state's constitution, or the oil companies that have lied to us and corrupted our state government (and governments around the world)?
I've made my choice, before you make yours, you should click on this:

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Crime Doesn't Pay? Doesn't Pay Who?

I was talking to Rich about the bikes I looked at over the weekend. The one I liked the most, was steel. "Steel now," he said. "Later, stolen."
On Monday, I was cruising Craigslist and there was my "Awsome Bike" [sic] (very sic) for sale. I called the police officer handling my case. He called the number in the ad and talked to them, and then called me back. He said that he could go by there, but they might not let him in. If I wanted my bike back, the best thing to do would be for me to set up a meeting and invite the police to join us.
So, that's what I did. First, they said to meet them at their house, but must have realized that it was really more of a lair, so they moved it to a parking lot. Ambre and I drove over there and talked to the police, and then they hid, and we waited. When the criminals rolled up, I got out and examined the bike, spinning the pedals, checking the brakes. While I did that, the police sprung their trap. One of the men was arrested on an outstanding warrant. I don't know what the charges were, but it may be relevant that a syringe fell out of his pocket, as they will. The other two men, and the little girl with them were allowed to leave. The men claimed that they had taken the bike as payment for yard work they had done. They couldn't remember for who, or where, but I suppose one yard looks much the same as another after awhile. The policeman said that I was their client, so I if I wanted them arrested, he'd do it, but he was pretty sure the prosecutor would decline the case given the (barely) plausible explanation. I said what I'd really like was my other bike back, so he put it to them that if they returned the other bike within 24 hours, there'd be no questions asked. Which three days later sort of begs the question (ha ha, no it doesn't, it invites the question) where's my other bike?
Oh, and another question might be, why, if crime doesn't pay, did I arrive to get my bike back in my only car, a thirteen year old Dodge, and they came in a new Cadillac Escalade?

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Autres Temps, Autres Mœurs? Nope, Same Old Mœurs.

1886: “I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

2008: Bush proud to sign bill that passed unanimously giving substantial new protections to unaccompanied minors arriving at the border.

2014: “Send them home with birth control” (actual sign carried by woman protesting the arrival of children at the border.

I just know that there are still people who resent FDR allowing Jews who had escaped from Nazi Germany to be refused entry to Miami in 1939 and returned to Europe where many of them eventually died in the camps.  Where is their horror at the prospect of returning children en masse to the murder capitol of the world without the hearings provided for by a unanimous(!) Congress just six years ago?

Martin Luther King said, with no math to back it up,  “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” A more accurate statement  might bethe line of the moral universe is long, and it tends to revert to the mean, the very mean.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Entered As Second Class Matter

S J Perelman wrote a short piece called Second Class Matter. I never thought it was all that great, so the title, at least was kind of funny. 
Here's a little update of my own, and since it's not very good, but, second class matter is a postal term, and I work at the post office the title is doubly funny. Get it?
I've been working some overtime this summer on other routes. Yesterday, I delivered mail in a trailer court. Trailer court spaces aren't always numbered rationally, but I never thought I'd be looking for pi. 
I told my erstwhile friend that, and he reminded me m-m-m pie. 
I went and test rode some bikes today. I told the salespeople that I wanted a good commuter bike that could accommodate snow tires, be a fleet of tire road bike and sturdy enough for my imaginary ride across America. And affordable. 
Then I came home and sulked.  Nobody likes to be laughed at. 

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Uncomfortable Unfortunate Things I Might Have Said Recently

I just told somebody, at the PO "Oh, I'm walking out to the garage as if my bike wasn't stolen."  I told him the story, how there were a lot of people we used to call bums that walk down our alley and how now we call them homeless, but maybe they're homeless because they're bums,and how they used the garage door opener in the dead car in the driveway to gain access to the garage and my bikes. He said, "That's funny." I said, "Really? I must have told it wrong."
I have a black man on my route that lives with his identical twin. I told him, "I know this might sound racist, but I can't tell you guys apart."

Monday, July 14, 2014

The Universe Says, "Follow Your Dreams, Because They Left Without You."

I listened to WBUR's On Point today. The host interviewed a man that rode across the country on his bicycle at age fifty seven. While I daydreamed about that tonight at dinner, someone went into my locked garage and stole my bikes. 
They left two snowblowers and a lawn mower. So, chore machines. 
I was daydreaming about bicycling across the country and now I can't even bicycle across the street. 

Wednesday, July 09, 2014

That's Why They Call It Dopamine

I listened to a Scientific American podcast today. They interviewed the author of Ha,  a book about the science of humor. The author doesn't claim to be funny himself, just, as he said, you wouldn't expect a scientist studying schizophrenia to be delusional. And then he turned out to be delusional since he claimed Rowan Atkinson was funny. Apparently, the so-called science of humor is just a joke. 

Wednesday, July 02, 2014

It Was Like Being In A BATHysphere Because: Isolated Showers

We're back from Iowa, safe and sound. And you were so scared.
On the plane last night, I made some notes on my phone for this post. The phone was in Airplane Mode, which apparently means that it automatically deletes notes made on Airplanes. So, I'm just making this up as I go along, instead of making it up somewhere else.
The wedding came off without a hitch. That is, the hitching went off without a problem. There was lightning, thunder and a torrential downpour, but we were snug inside eating (I guess my bias for action at buffets is showing) visiting and watching the happy young couple say their vows.
On our last night in Iowa, there was a severe thunderstorm, and a tornado on the ground while we were out to eat. I asked if we should be worried, but the Iowans were all, "Pfff, that's like two, maybe three counties away." During the storm, the lights went out in the restaurant, which was a good time to sample everybody else's meals. Delicious.

On the airplane, I thought about a comedian we heard saying that flying was a war against gravity, and that Einstein visualized gravity as a rubber sheet, and how a rubber sheet would be perfect for wrapping up the baby that wouldn't stop crying in the row behind us.

I worked for awhile on this post yesterday, the first, and now, this morning, the second. I know I was busy all day yesterday with post-trip chores, so I was surprised when I got up that it looks like a family of goats had spread luggage and dirty dishes around our house. I'm surprised I didn't notice that happening while I was typing yesterday. Now, I'm off to work. I needed a little something extra to get me going this morning, and luckily I found a pair of forties (waistband).

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Scenes From The Rural Life

Here we are, and have been, in Iowa. As you can see it's beautiful and bucolic.

I've been eating like a pig, in the sense that neither of us will be able to fit into a size medium any time soon.  
The wedding is this afternoon. The venue has been changed to an indoor location because, why? Worries about the weather. And not my worries, either. The bride's. If anybody cared about my worries, we'd be like prairie dogs just coming up from underground long enough to look around and maybe bark in terror a little. 
Yesterday, some of us went to a tractor museum. It was a little bit of a misnomer because there was only one tractor, but it was a very seminal tractor, the progenitor of the entire John Deere family. 
Then we went to view a robotic milking parlor. The cows walk into a stall whenever they want and get milked without any human involvement. It's much more efficient and once the robots learn to drink milk, they won't need people at all. It's more efficient overall, but watching the robot fumbling to attach the cups to the udders was like watching a thirteen year old boy trying to get to second base. 
After that, we all gathered for a rehearsal dinner. I didn't really know very many people, but when I mentioned that I almost never shopped at Walmart, I sensed people thinking, "That tells us everything we need to know about you."
After eating, we went grocery shopping for Fritos and marshmallows, then stopped for ice cream and called it a night. Comes next, the wedding. And then, the reception, mostly catered by the bride, a culinary school graduate. I'm so excited to have her in the family. Plus, she seems really nice. 

Friday, June 20, 2014

Leaving On A Jet Plane

So we're in Bloomington, MN. Tomorrow; Iowa. 
What a difference a day makes. Or almost a day. And seventeen degrees of latitude. When we were flying out of Anchorage at one am, it looked like this:
Now, at only ten pm, in Minnesota, it looks like this:


 

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Missing: Control. Last Seen Throwing A Salad Over Its Shoulder As It Left

So, Karen's bad mood kept ricocheting and caroming around the house until finally I lost my temper. When my temper went missing, it took all my self-control with it and I began to binge eat; the first time off my diet in six months.  It wasn't very satisfying, even in the moment, because all there was to eat was the same healthy food I usually eat; I just ate more of it. My dealer, Ambre brought home some barbecued brisket with curly fries, and I ate all of it, but I was already nauseated from too much oatmeal and kale.
I went to bed mad (mostly at myself by then) and woke up ill, a lot. Now, off to work, ill, but soon, Iowa here we come. Excited to see us?

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Karen Is Going To Iowa, Against Medical Advice; Isn't That How Everyone Does It?

 Karen came home from the hospital today. The infectious disease doctor didn't want her traveling because he was afraid that she'd be "running around" and restart the infection. I hope he's wrong because, of course, I don't want the infection restarted, and because running around sounds like the kind of thing that would take place outside.
The hospitalist (and what a scam that specialty is) told her nurse to call the surgeon's office and make sure that he wasn't coming one last time to check the incision. After waiting three hours, Karen asked the nurse what the hold-up was.  The problem turned out to be, "I don't call doctor's offices." Karen threw a temper tantrum, so they sent her home. That was good, but unfortunately, she was able to play it off the wall, and throw it a few more times here at the house.
Iowa, here we come!

Monday, June 16, 2014

Karen Called Me In Tears

From the hospital where she remains st this hour. 
This morning her infectious medicine doctor told her she'd require another surgery to remove her intrathecal pump, but we're not convinced and we're awaiting more doctors to talk to. I took off from work to be here if/when they come. All very frustrating for her, especially since we're supposed to be going to Iowa  on Thursday night. 
We're not convinced because the CT scan she had was inconclusive; it showed results that might be signs of infection, or are also completely consistent with having had surgery, which, of course, she had. 
While I was composing this post, the doctor in charge of her pump stopped by to say that in the absence of any clinical signs (fever or elevated white blood cell count) of a more general infection, he had no interest in taking the pump out. There is still no discharge plan, but tantalizingly, the last doctor said that the next doctor that is still expected to come by might send her home tonight. As for travel, he said we'd have to wait till it gets closer, as if it could. 

Friday, June 13, 2014

Resistance Is Futile. So Is Making To-Do Lists.

Today Karen's physical therapist told her that her incision didn't look as good as it had and we should go to the hospital.   I had already noticed some drainage and made an appointment with her surgeon. The therapist said we could we wait until then, but in the event, it hardly mattered. 
The doctor said it looked like a minor infection, but rather than let it have a chance to become major, she's being readmitted. So, we were just like proctologists, we spent five hours in the bowels of the hospital before being sent upstairs. And here we remain. Well, Karen does; I'm heading home right now. 

Saturday, June 07, 2014

Long Meandering Texts Concisely Molded Into A Blog Post

The first night home Karen's  hip hurt so much that she was in tears and quite rage-y. The next morning, I called her pain management clinic and they scheduled an appointment on Friday  for her to receive an injection of something, they hadn't decided what.  When we got there, Karen's hip hadn't hurt since she woke up on Thursday morning. The doctor said, "I can't make it better than that." So that does seem better. Now it's a matter of learning to walk and building up strength. I haven't offered her any life coaching lately, so we're cool. 
There is a state agency that thinks we might qualify for some caretaker respite grants, but I've realized that I've got leave, it's protected by FMLA and I should stop trying so hard to get back to work. Leah also has some FMLA protected leave available, and between us we should be able to keep Karen safe until (if Karen is strong enough)  we go to the wedding in Iowa. Nothing can keep her safe there, as the wedding is being held on the lawn of a roofless church in  tony Tornado Alley.

Thursday, June 05, 2014

Karen Came Home, With A Vengeance

Karen did leave the hospital yesterday. By the time she stopped at a podiatrist on the way home, she was tired and her hip was bothering her a lot. This hip pain is brand new since the surgery. Her own assessment of her attitude was, "bitchy." I had to concur and helpfully advised that taking care of her was not only a full time job, it was one I would never have applied for. I added that it might be easier for actual caregivers, because their shifts were only twelve hours three times a week, not for life. So, that sort of established the mood.
I had planned to go to work today since a church lady had volunteered to stay with Karen during the times that Leah's and my shifts overlapped, but  it looked as if Karen would need more help than it was reasonable to expect from a volunteer and I needed to try to  get Karen into her pain doctor today to see what they could do about the hip. I did get her an appointment for tomorrow morning (so no work then, and Saturday's not looking too good either). A Blue Cross case manager called to see what we might need. Not that they would pay for it, or knew anyone that would, they were just reminding us that we were helpless and hopeless. But, Karen did do her exercises today, and she was able to get into bed by herself afterwards.  Later today, an outpatient physical therapist will be stopping by (a covered expense!) and tomorrow, maybe they'll figure out what's wrong with, and fix, her hip. So baby step by step, we are making our way.

Tuesday, June 03, 2014

But I Did Not Give A Girlish Giggle

 Karen's discharge planner called me yesterday and explained that not only was the doctor pressing to send her home, insurance companies only pay to rehabilitate patients to their baseline state. That means that Karen only needs to be back to walking with a walker and then falling down, before the insurance company is satisfied with her inpatient progress. I was there last evening when the doctor came to check on her incision, and I not only bowed to the inevitable, I gave it a little curtsy. There didn't seem to be much sense in being churlish to the man that's going to monitor the still-healing opening from Karen's spine to the sometimes malevolent outside world.*
Anyway, I'm going to go to the post office in a few minutes and get my route ready. But somebody else is going to run it while I go learn how to be an aid again. Tomorrow I'm off anyway, and then begins the carousel ride around the clock making sure Karen isn't left alone on the floor.
One bit of good news, just like Sheldon Cooper, Karen's "been tested;" her cognitive skills are such that they don't think she will burn the house down if she is left alone.

* From the Merck Manual Home Edition:
For adults who have bacterial osteomyelitis of the vertebrae, the usual treatment is antibiotics for 6 to 8 weeks. Sometimes bed rest is needed, and the person may need to wear a brace. Surgery may be needed to drain abscesses or to stabilize affected vertebrae (to prevent the vertebrae from collapsing and thereby damaging nearby nerves, the spinal cord, or blood vessels).

Monday, June 02, 2014

What A Difference A Day Makes

Yesterday was gloomy and filled with gray thoughts. Today, though, dawned (if you can call it that) wet, dim, and filled with thoughts of rage. Or as much rage as a passive-aggressive person can summon. I am very angry, and intend to write a very sternly worded blog post.
Karen has been accepted into the rehab unit at the hospital. For the last few days she has done three hours of therapy per day under the care of trained therapists, and been attended by skilled nursing care around the clock, as well as sleeping in a hospital bed that can be adjusted so many ways that it could get its own act as a contortionist.
Now, her surgeon wants to send her home because in "his experience" patients do better at home. So, we're to trade, all the hospital staff and facilities for an ad hoc collection of church ladies,  my vacation time and a rented bed. Karen wants to come home because she misses her dog, even though she and Ellie FaceTimed just last night.
The decision will be made today. I may or may not be there, because doctor time is so much more valuable than my time that they can't tell me when the meeting will be, so if I'm to attend it will be by dropping what I'm doing (working) and going to the hospital with no notice. Because I'm a grownup, I probably won't do that, so you can expect the next post to be about finding Karen here when I get home.

Sunday, June 01, 2014

Yesterday Was A Perfect Day

For staring pensively out the window. The wind blew through the dim morning light, the rain angled to the ground and fresh snow crept down the hillside. I stared for awhile, thinking about mortality and that in three weeks the days start getting shorter and we begin the slide back into next winter's icy metaphors. But then it was time to put on my big girl's rain pants and go to work.  
Karen had the day off from PT and OT, all the T's really. She had some visitors which was very nice. Then quite a bit of hip pain later that wasn't so nice. Now we're spending the first of June staring pensively out the hospital window. 

Tomorrow we go back to the workaday routine.