It's another limerick based on an icanhascheezburger post!
A cat who liked cars very much
found himself just a tad out of touch.
To the humans they pandered
when making a standard;
his paws were too short for the clutch.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
On Making a Donation
There is a lot of dialogue regarding giving and charity and the complexities therein lately, and I think it's a good conversation to have.
I didn't really want to engage in that conversation, but it was only a matter of time before my name popped up in blue, inviting me to post a video of someone (including but not exclusively me) dumping a bucket of ice water on themselves.
I admire and support all my fun-loving friends who have participated in this campaign.
But I'm terrible at following directions. Also, we just moved and it occurs to me that we literally don't own a bucket.
I didn't really want to engage in that conversation, but it was only a matter of time before my name popped up in blue, inviting me to post a video of someone (including but not exclusively me) dumping a bucket of ice water on themselves.
I admire and support all my fun-loving friends who have participated in this campaign.
But I'm terrible at following directions. Also, we just moved and it occurs to me that we literally don't own a bucket.
However, the nomination did give me the opportunity to evaluate my giving practices, and it occurs to me that I cannot remember the last time I donated to a nonprofit, which is shameful.
So even though we're not exactly flush with cash (just bought mahself a new hoopty! -- She's old enough to drive herself, and I love her so), I figure that if I can justify spending $20 on a filtration pitcher to make our already clean drinking water EVEN CLEANER, I can justify spending the same to help others have that human need.
So I'm making a donation to charity:water. You can read all about them here: http://www.charitywater.org
And you can see how they rate in terms of how they use their funding here: http://www.charitynavigator.org/index.cfm?bay=search.summary&orgid=12548#.U_SAE15H1SU
And I would like to invite anyone who has a spare dime to give to find a good cause and donate to it, because....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuUZiPh-h7c
Thursday, August 14, 2014
On Making Things Okay
Since the faeries are on hiatus (awaiting a new scanner--see the latest memo here), and a great deal of discussion surrounding the topic of mental wellness has come to the surface of many conversations, I feel the urge to write this post about my personal journey of wellness.
In 2007, at the tender age of 29, I was diagnosed with a herniated disc. There was no sudden accident, no particular reason that what started as mild scoliosis in my teen years became an acute herniation; it simply 'developed' over the years. I learned that I had a herniated disc when I decided to (finally) see a doctor about my back pain which I had been "dealing with" (isn't that a hilarious way to convince yourself it's all okay?) since I was a teenager. I had been experiencing pain, muscle spasms, and stiffness for nigh on 15 years before I sought help.
Because up until then I was okay.
But as my mom recently (wisely) stated, "You're always okay until you're not okay anymore."
I got some advice from my doctor to, you know, care for myself so that it wouldn't get worse.
But of course I didn't.
And it did. Get worse. Much worse.
There was the night at the emergency room, when the pain was so severe I was screaming in my sleep.
There were the days I staggered from lamppost to lamppost, weeping at street corners, unable to make my paralyzed and agonized leg (the sciatic nerve was pinched) walk more than a few steps.
There were the two weeks I spent lying on one side on the floor, unable to sit or stand, unable to work. Unable to be on my feet long enough to boil water (I, the pan, and the scalding water wound up on the ground).
I had to reach this place of helpless debilitation before I took my condition seriously. I saw more doctors. They use these charts to try and determine how much pain you are in...
It's absurd. Where was the "burns like hell lightning down my leg and incapacitates me" face? Where was the "this Vicodin does nothing, so you may as well give me the whole bottle" face? Where was the "I literally can't go on living like this" face?
Where was the "I won't be an invalid burden to my family" face?
They told me that the pain of childbirth was a level of 10. I'll let you know if I ever get a chance to compare it, but this was worse than anything I could imagine.
I think the chart should go to 11.
The short version (too late!) of my story is: after 6 months of doctor visits, psychotherapy, and 1 cortisone shot that started wearing off far too quickly, I selected surgery: a discectomy. It's a somewhat risky procedure, in that many people who get it don't feel a whole lot better afterward. But I knew I couldn't feel worse.
They say surgery hurts. They say recovering from it hurts.
When I woke up from surgery, I felt like I had been released. I had forgotten how it felt to be feeling only a quite a bit of pain, as opposed to a horrifying amount. I begged the nurses to stop giving me the "big crazy pills" (percoset) which gave me vivid hallucinations involving Sarah Palin and Joe Biden In Flagrante Delicto (it was fall of 2008 by this point) and to please just give me Tylenol instead, because it really didn't hurt any more. The pain of surgery was nothing compared to the pain before surgery. I welcomed it.
I don't mean to say I'm cured. I'm not. I still live with pain, muscle spasms, and stiffness. And one day, I may have to re-live the hell I went through that year. I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. In the meantime, I live with my injury. In some ways, it's a blessing. I feel best when I am in constant motion. I cannot sit, stand, or even lie in one position for very long. In that way, I stay very fit and active. It's not so I look cute in a bikini. It's not so I have big strong muscles. It's so I can function. It's so I can be self-sufficient and able to work and live with only a 'life is tough, sometimes things hurt' amount of pain.
What does this have to do with mental wellness?
Well.
If people who battle with conditions such as depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar, or anything else I'm failing to mention (because hasn't this post gone on long enough?) feel even a fraction of what I felt, whether it's above your neck or below your waist, or visible or invisible or in your spine or in your brain...
If anyone has to feel pain that is anything like what I felt...
It's horrible. It doesn't care if you're young or skinny or fat or light or dark. It doesn't care if you're rich or poor or whom you love. It attacks viciously and with little warning.
And that pain is as much in any person's control as mine was in my control. Which is to say, it is, a bit. To an extent. But sometimes it goes beyond 'dealing with it.'
And then you need to get help.
Because sometimes you're okay. Until you're not okay.
And if you're not okay, it's okay to say so.
In 2007, at the tender age of 29, I was diagnosed with a herniated disc. There was no sudden accident, no particular reason that what started as mild scoliosis in my teen years became an acute herniation; it simply 'developed' over the years. I learned that I had a herniated disc when I decided to (finally) see a doctor about my back pain which I had been "dealing with" (isn't that a hilarious way to convince yourself it's all okay?) since I was a teenager. I had been experiencing pain, muscle spasms, and stiffness for nigh on 15 years before I sought help.
Because up until then I was okay.
But as my mom recently (wisely) stated, "You're always okay until you're not okay anymore."
I got some advice from my doctor to, you know, care for myself so that it wouldn't get worse.
But of course I didn't.
And it did. Get worse. Much worse.
There was the night at the emergency room, when the pain was so severe I was screaming in my sleep.
There were the days I staggered from lamppost to lamppost, weeping at street corners, unable to make my paralyzed and agonized leg (the sciatic nerve was pinched) walk more than a few steps.
There were the two weeks I spent lying on one side on the floor, unable to sit or stand, unable to work. Unable to be on my feet long enough to boil water (I, the pan, and the scalding water wound up on the ground).
I had to reach this place of helpless debilitation before I took my condition seriously. I saw more doctors. They use these charts to try and determine how much pain you are in...
It's absurd. Where was the "burns like hell lightning down my leg and incapacitates me" face? Where was the "this Vicodin does nothing, so you may as well give me the whole bottle" face? Where was the "I literally can't go on living like this" face?
Where was the "I won't be an invalid burden to my family" face?
They told me that the pain of childbirth was a level of 10. I'll let you know if I ever get a chance to compare it, but this was worse than anything I could imagine.
I think the chart should go to 11.
The short version (too late!) of my story is: after 6 months of doctor visits, psychotherapy, and 1 cortisone shot that started wearing off far too quickly, I selected surgery: a discectomy. It's a somewhat risky procedure, in that many people who get it don't feel a whole lot better afterward. But I knew I couldn't feel worse.
They say surgery hurts. They say recovering from it hurts.
When I woke up from surgery, I felt like I had been released. I had forgotten how it felt to be feeling only a quite a bit of pain, as opposed to a horrifying amount. I begged the nurses to stop giving me the "big crazy pills" (percoset) which gave me vivid hallucinations involving Sarah Palin and Joe Biden In Flagrante Delicto (it was fall of 2008 by this point) and to please just give me Tylenol instead, because it really didn't hurt any more. The pain of surgery was nothing compared to the pain before surgery. I welcomed it.
I don't mean to say I'm cured. I'm not. I still live with pain, muscle spasms, and stiffness. And one day, I may have to re-live the hell I went through that year. I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. In the meantime, I live with my injury. In some ways, it's a blessing. I feel best when I am in constant motion. I cannot sit, stand, or even lie in one position for very long. In that way, I stay very fit and active. It's not so I look cute in a bikini. It's not so I have big strong muscles. It's so I can function. It's so I can be self-sufficient and able to work and live with only a 'life is tough, sometimes things hurt' amount of pain.
What does this have to do with mental wellness?
Well.
If people who battle with conditions such as depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar, or anything else I'm failing to mention (because hasn't this post gone on long enough?) feel even a fraction of what I felt, whether it's above your neck or below your waist, or visible or invisible or in your spine or in your brain...
If anyone has to feel pain that is anything like what I felt...
It's horrible. It doesn't care if you're young or skinny or fat or light or dark. It doesn't care if you're rich or poor or whom you love. It attacks viciously and with little warning.
And that pain is as much in any person's control as mine was in my control. Which is to say, it is, a bit. To an extent. But sometimes it goes beyond 'dealing with it.'
And then you need to get help.
Because sometimes you're okay. Until you're not okay.
And if you're not okay, it's okay to say so.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
ICHC Limerick: TP
What's that, you say? It's been ages since you last heard a limerick based on captioned photos of animals? Oh, all right.
A cat who preferred the world numbered
slipped into the loo unencumbered.
When confronted with tissue,
he conquered the issue,
posed for photos, then spit up, and slumbered.Sunday, July 27, 2014
ICHC Limerick: Extra Hops
A good friend of mine (and superb writer) creates fantastic poetry based on a website known as "Texts From Last Night". (You can read his work here: http://21stcenturynonsense.blogspot.com)
So I have decided, as rebuttal, to start writing limericks based on the hilariously and adorably captioned images from "icanhascheezburger.com".
Here is my inspiration: http://cheezburger.com/8265308928
A rabbit with rather short ears
found himself midst a carton of beers
He licked every bottle
Not a little — a lottle.
For when rabbits find beers, they say “cheers!”
So I have decided, as rebuttal, to start writing limericks based on the hilariously and adorably captioned images from "icanhascheezburger.com".
Here is my inspiration: http://cheezburger.com/8265308928
And here is my poem:
found himself midst a carton of beers
He licked every bottle
Not a little — a lottle.
Monday, June 23, 2014
A Human's Garden in the Shade
Apparently my ear worm for the day is by the Beatles. You're welcome.
I've been living in my Queens apartment for 3? 4? years...(I've lost track a bit). Since then, my 5-container garden has blossomed (you see what I did there?) into a 7-container garden, and I've had a lot of fun learning what you can and can't do with about 2 hours of sunlight.
You can't plant anything that needs any sun.
BUT, you CAN dress it up for the holidays!
Here, the 'evergreens' in the outermost pots and the two front pots are synthetic, but they and the red bows seem to have weathered (I did it again!) the season well enough to re-use for the coming winter. I would love to light this up, but I've no access to an outlet here. Future dreams for future homes.
And you CAN plant bulbs (if you never expect them to return the following year; in a shade garden, bulbs have to be treated as annuals once they've bloomed. Worth it.).
Like crocuses........................................... and grape hyacinths...........................
and the one daffodil that came up........................ and tulips!
That was a bit of a surprise, because I could have sworn I planted irises. That's what happens when 6 months go by between planting and blooming (and you don't label your garden).
I definitely crammed everything in pretty tight, which is why I think 90 percent of the daffodils told me to stick it where the sun don't shine (I'm on a roll!) but I did get that one survivor, and it was a beaut.
Then some critter (dog? raccoon?) trampled all over my bulbs and turned them into weeping tulips.
It was about time for the summer annuals, anyway.
Like impatiens (seen here with hosta)
And begonias!
I've been living in my Queens apartment for 3? 4? years...(I've lost track a bit). Since then, my 5-container garden has blossomed (you see what I did there?) into a 7-container garden, and I've had a lot of fun learning what you can and can't do with about 2 hours of sunlight.
You can't plant anything that needs any sun.
BUT, you CAN dress it up for the holidays!
Here, the 'evergreens' in the outermost pots and the two front pots are synthetic, but they and the red bows seem to have weathered (I did it again!) the season well enough to re-use for the coming winter. I would love to light this up, but I've no access to an outlet here. Future dreams for future homes.
And you CAN plant bulbs (if you never expect them to return the following year; in a shade garden, bulbs have to be treated as annuals once they've bloomed. Worth it.).
Like crocuses........................................... and grape hyacinths...........................
and the one daffodil that came up........................ and tulips!
That was a bit of a surprise, because I could have sworn I planted irises. That's what happens when 6 months go by between planting and blooming (and you don't label your garden).
I definitely crammed everything in pretty tight, which is why I think 90 percent of the daffodils told me to stick it where the sun don't shine (I'm on a roll!) but I did get that one survivor, and it was a beaut.
Then some critter (dog? raccoon?) trampled all over my bulbs and turned them into weeping tulips.
Jerk.
It was about time for the summer annuals, anyway.
Like impatiens (seen here with hosta) And begonias!
All Together Now: (Earworm #2)
(And some barely visible bugleweed with the yew. But you get the idea.)
In a way, gardening in the shade has been a great challenge--there are really very few plants to choose from, but having limited choices isn't the same as having no choices or having bad choices. I'm pretty pleased with the outcome, and it is pretty much the cutest little garden on the block, if I do say so myself.
And I do.
Go plant something!
Thursday, May 8, 2014
For Love of Chips
If I have one life goal, it is to make every vegetable into a chip of some kind. I love salt. I love crunch. I love eating with my fingers.
I've tried my hand at baking kale chips (like every domestic diva on the planet) as well as collard chips, beet chips, and sweet potato chips. Because I'm lazy, I've tried eating the pre-made kale chips sold in stores. I find them revolting. These homemade kale chips, however, are so popular at parties, they have garnered several marriage proposals (which were met with a conflicted blend of pride and jealousy by my husband).
You will find about ten million sets of instructions on the web about how to make these. Mine are the best. (These instructions work as well for collard chips.) (Level: chip novice)
As for other spices and flavors to 'enhance' the kale/collard chips, I have tried a few. I always come back to plain old olive oil and salt. It's just the best.
Root vegetable chips are a little trickier, but they are awesome. I did sweet potato chips with my kindergarten class, and they told me they were "better than candy" (I almost cried with joy).
This is a beet chip:
For these and sweet potato chips, I use the following system: (level: chip Jedi)
I've tried my hand at baking kale chips (like every domestic diva on the planet) as well as collard chips, beet chips, and sweet potato chips. Because I'm lazy, I've tried eating the pre-made kale chips sold in stores. I find them revolting. These homemade kale chips, however, are so popular at parties, they have garnered several marriage proposals (which were met with a conflicted blend of pride and jealousy by my husband).
You will find about ten million sets of instructions on the web about how to make these. Mine are the best. (These instructions work as well for collard chips.) (Level: chip novice)
- Buy some kale.
- Wash it. Dry it.
- Tear it into chip-sized pieces (not too big--they will shrink as you bake them)
- Dump them in a big bowl and pour a bunch of olive oil over them.
- Take the pieces out one by one and gently massage the oil on both sides of the leaf. Do not be shy with the oil. It's what makes the kale crispy and it is good for your skin, anyway.
- Lay the kale flat on a cookie sheet, no two pieces touching (kale Tetris!)
- Sprinkle with salt.
- Bake at 325 for about 10 minutes. This is the 'hard' part. Check them obsessively. There is about 10 seconds between 'done' and 'burned'. If they are starting to turn brown, get them out right away. They should be crispy and green, in a perfect world.
As for other spices and flavors to 'enhance' the kale/collard chips, I have tried a few. I always come back to plain old olive oil and salt. It's just the best.
Root vegetable chips are a little trickier, but they are awesome. I did sweet potato chips with my kindergarten class, and they told me they were "better than candy" (I almost cried with joy).
This is a beet chip:
For these and sweet potato chips, I use the following system: (level: chip Jedi)
- Buy some beets (or sweet potatoes).
- Wash them and slice them with a mandoline slicer, at its thinnest setting (leave the skin on--that's how you get the ruffled edge)
- Bathe and massage the slices with olive oil.
- Lay the chips on a baking sheet (not touching) and sprinkle with salt.
- Bake at 325 for somewhere between 30 and 90 minutes.
See why it's tricky? The baking time varies enormously depending on the whims of the gods or whatever. You're not so much baking them as dehydrating them, and it needs to be a low temperature or the olive oil scorches and the chips burn. You will probably want to flip them halfway through, and they will cook at varying speeds depending on the chip. Remove them when they are mostly dry but still somewhat gummy. Give them a few hours to dry out the rest of the way. I lay them out on paper overnight, and in the morning, they are usually hard and crispy. If not, I pop them in the oven again for a few minutes.
Anyway, if you're an overachiever or want to hear a five-year old refer to a vitamin-rich vegetable as 'better than candy', it's worth it.
All hail chips, and go make something.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)