Domestic Science?

A recent study, reported at Scotsman.com News stated that "moderate housework can help women substantially to cut their risk of developing breast cancer".

It's hard enough getting help around the house. Now this?
"Oh, I'd vacuum, but I want you to reduce your risk of developing breast cancer."
"Oh, I'd do the laundry, but I don't want to be responsible for increasing the likelihood of you developing breast cancer."
"Oh, I'd dust, but..." well, maybe not that one.

The same day, The Mirror reported on the invention of the Shoover. Shoes that vacuum as you walk around wearing them. There's an idea...but does that mean the shoes get heavier as you Shoover? The dirt/dust has to go somewhere, right? Say you went to put the Shoovers away in the closet when you were finished. Wouldn't you get one heck of a shock after shuffling around the carpet vacuuming in your shoes and then touching the handle on the closet door?

On the other hand, Shoovers would make the stairs a snap to clean.

Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has drafted a statement that meat and milk from cloned animals is as safe for consumption as that of conventionally reared livestock and cattle. The FDA statement is consistent with the 2002 findings of The National Academy of Sciences, an independent advisory body, that provides input on "scientific and technological issues that frequently pervade policy decisions."

According to farmers who have invested in cloning animals, the food and milk wouldn't come from the clone, but from the offspring of the clone. Currently, the FDA does not allow the sale of meat or milk from cloned animals.

Read FDA Draft Statement List of Cloned Animals

Obvious: You are What You Eat.
Subdued: Make mine a double.
More Subdued: "I repeat, cloning animals for food is safe".

Question: Can that fast-food chain still claim that No Two Burgers Are the Same?

Sometimes this stuff almost writes itself.

Other Articles on: [Animal Cloning] [Food Safety]

Espadrilles Don't Pertain to the Automobile

es-pa-drille [es-puh-dril]
- noun
Def: 1. a flat shoe with a cloth upper, a rope sole, and sometimes lacing that ties around the ankle.
2. a casual shoe, often with a wedge heel instead of a flat sole.
[Origin: 1860–65; Pr espardilho, dim. of espart]

(from Dictionary.com)

espadrille fraîche [es-puh-dril fray-sh]
- descriptive noun
Def: 1. a really cool casual shoe, often with a wedge heel and rope sole

espadrille fraîche pour ma maman
- phrase
Def: 1. a really cool shoe for my Mom

I knew all along it wasn't a car... and I found these on my own, without the dictionary or Wikipedia.

Technically, esparto is of Spanish origin. In which case, cool espadrilles would be espadrille fresco. That has a better ring to it. The style is widely agreed to hail from the south of France, so this post remains true to its material roots.

Espadrilles (Wikipedia) [Articles about Espadrilles]

The Tradition of the Nativity Scene

When I was growing up, our family had a nativity scene that was arranged atop the piano in the living room. It was a traditional scene and my Mom had painted each ceramic figure. In the first year, it was Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the manger and the Wise Men. Each year after that, she painted additional pieces to include. Every December 25th, at 12:00 a.m., we'd sing Happy Birthday and place baby Jesus in the manger.

I don't know where that nativity is now. Come to think of it, I haven't seen that manger set in several years. Yesterday, at my parents' home, I saw there was a different nativity arrangement on the table behind the couch. Except for Kashmir's interest in the new set, I might not have noticed it back there.

My parents have an acre of property that they decorate for the season. The latest in outdoor decorations is the over-sized inflatable adornment. That got me to thinking...

I found these items for sale, and thought, they'd be perfect in the orchard.
A 9 ft. inflatable scene

And to finish it off right,

add the 6' tall Wise Men...

Each has its own "self-contained illumination system" and is described as being "a highly visible lawn decoration." Both unfortunately, now sold out for the season.

Think you'd find these for sale at some blasphemous website, right? Wrong. Try CatholicSupply.com

More on [Inflatable Lawn Decorations]

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Christian Rocks

Christian C's debut public performance: Live at HT.

Who doesn't love a song from the Red Hot chilee Peppers?

Check out Christian performing Sam Roberts' Bridge to Nowhere

Not caught on video: the cell phones waved by fans marking approval.

Million Dollar Blog

Gifter.org invites you to make a wish and/or sponsor a wish.

They have initiated a campaign to collect one million wishes sponsored by one million dollars in donations made to charities around the world, hence, The Million Dollar Blog Post. Follow the instructions at the Gifter site to ensure your wish and sponsorship are included.

Here's my own humble offering to the Daily Bread Food Bank in Toronto and CanadaHelps.org.



Go ahead, make a wish... it's on me!

Thanks to Joe Summers for sending the link.

[Gifter.org] [Daily Bread Food Bank] [CanadaHelps.org]
[Million Dollar Blog]

Giving Cancer the Boot

My sister Roni has been undergoing chemotherapy as part of a continued treatment plan for breast cancer.

Roni is obsessed with boots. All kinds of boots. Boots that go to the knee or over the knee. Boots that go just to the ankle and some that rise to mid-calf. Shoes that look like boots. Spike heel. Platform. She probably even has boots without a heel. Snake skin, eel, leather, suede. Power boots. Comfort boots.

Boots. She loves boots.

To every treatment, Roni wears a different pair of boots. Technicians, oncologists and other patients notice her always remarkable boots.

Her fifth chemotherapy treatment was Thursday. Wednesday, she wrote:

My Man is AMAZING. Knowing that I'm more than a little bummed about a chemo Christmas,...he did what every good husband ought to do.

He went out and bought me a pair of killer black boots with wee spiky heels and gave them to me before Christmas so that I could wear them to my chemo treatment in the morning.

Ya' gotta' really love a man that knows the emotional value of a good pair of kick-ass leather boots.

I guess it's true, what they say - every cloud has a leather lining.

That Song Sounds a Little Flat

Last night, Jessica's hockey team completed their usual training at CIA. Normally, Jess and Rebecca are the last ones out of the dressing room. Sometimes it's Jess and Liz. This time it was Jessica and Mindy. No matter, Jess is always last out.

Coach Mark always waits until the last player is finished before he leaves. Last night, his daughter Maddy, wasn't even at the practice, and Mark still waited. Each week, Mark teases Jess about being the final player to leave. It's a bit they do.

In the parking lot, Jess was throwing her gear into the trunk. Mark was parked beside us. He backed out of his spot. At the same time, Jessica decided to pull her MP3 player and phone out of her pocket. She dropped the music player onto the laneway.

And Mark drove over it with his Jimmy. Now those music files are really compressed.

Noncompetitive Blogging

Double-blogging: (def) - the same situation recounted in two different blogs. Michelle and I need to be careful about double-blogging. Some regular readers of my blog click through to Michelle's blog. Some of hers, click over to mine. We want to keep the audiences hooked; and blogging shouldn't be a competitive sport.

We've never had a conflict. We don't need to outline definite rules. Sometimes ownership of the story is clear. But, what to do when the story is ours? Take for example, a discussion about stem cell research in China. Sisters from Port Perry, Ontario are flying to China to receive stem cell therapy to treat their spinal cord injuries. Read about the Deering sisters .

I wasn't alone in not knowing that China was a recognized leader in stem-cell therapies. I raised the issue of product piracy and the Chinese economy . Which led to a discussion around the plausibility, in the future, to counterfeit stem-cells.

Consider it. There's a market for low-cost knock-offs and imitations in toys, electronics and medicine. Illegal copies of CDs and DVDs are not hard to find. Why not progenitor cellular therapy, too?

Double Jeopardy

Wednesday. Dundas St. & Hwy. 427.
I was waiting in a double line-up of cars being stopped at a R.I.D.E. checkpoint. The Police were checking 6 cars at a time. I thought about how this was another time when it's best to have delayed running the IV in the car. This was a good time to not have a bag of medication hanging from the mirror. (Another is at the Canada-U.S. border). When it was my turn, the officer leaned into the car and asked when the last time was that I had some alcohol. There was a microsecond pause as some wise-ass answers ran through my mind. "I don't drink," I responded. "Have you had anything to drink today?" the officer asked. A nanosecond passed. I was biting my tongue. He wasn't making this easy for me. "No."

Thursday. Home after the morning drop-off.
I brought the pole/pump downstairs, prepared the solution and connected. I had just opened the newspaper when the door bell rang.

Answering the door is complicated when I'm running the IV. It is difficult to steer upon carpet. There's one step down from the hall to the door. And then there's the dog. Buddy wasn't behaving in his 'I-know-who-this-is-at-the-door'-way. I considered ignoring the doorbell. It is frustrating to go through the work to get to the door to discover it's a rep who wants to discuss fixed-rate energy price plans. Plus, I was probably going to fall asleep if I just stayed still. And that wouldn't be so bad, either.

The police officer on the porch rang the bell again. Having seen him through the window, I was glad I had at least come to check it out. I opened the door. "I'm looking for ..." he paused and flipped some papers over to find the name, "Andrew," he finished.
He looked up from the documents then and saw that I was leaning against the door to keep it open, had one leg across the bottom one-third of the opening so the dog wouldn't bolt out to chase the squirrel that was coming down the tree, and was using my other hand to pull the IV pole closer. (I had misjudged the distance between my Hickman connection and the machine and was about 3 inches too far away from the pump.) I was off-balance.

"Are you OK?" he asked.
I invited him to come inside.

Buddy made a menacing sound toward the squirrel then did his 'Did you come to play with me? Do you have any treats? Look at the tricks I do with these shoes.' routine.

Like anyone is reading this paragraph! I know you skipped ahead to find out why the police were here.

It's OK. Andrew's being called as a witness in a case that will be tried in the spring. The police officer was delivering the subpoena. But the Constable didn't get right to the point with me, so I didn't think it'd be fair for you not to experience it the same way.
Take your own reaction as you read about the police looking for Andrew, multiply it by googol, and that was what those 7 minutes were like for me.

Here's to a police-free day tomorrow!

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Fast Snacks

It's a conspicuous silence when I'm not updating the sites, sending email, or offering more than a few lines in response to an email I receive. I'm grateful to have you checking up on me. Nothing and everything is happening:

I have been suffering with symptoms of low iron for a month, which, I can track back to be almost one year, to the day, of when we started arranging iron infusions last year. Until my levels improve, my energy is low. When I stop 'doing' and pause my mind and body, I fall asleep. Never for very long, but basically, when I stop and relax, I drift off to sleep. Guess I wasn't into the conversation around the dinner table this evening...stood up, rolled the IV to the couch, laid down, went to sleep.

We are lucky to know terrific people. A couple of weeks ago, I put a call out asking friends to drive the afternoon carpool for me one day each week. Together they implemented a plan whereby Kathy, Shari, Gloria or Arlene is driving the after-school carpool for us three days each week. These guys are no slackers! Each wears the hat of Professional/Mother/Sports Fan/Daughter/Sister/Wife/Neighbor/Friend throughout her day. They've got it all under control. More proof that when something needs to be done, just ask a busy person to help out. Thank you. Really, truly.

I can sleep right through the IV Pump alarms, but the dog's snoring is pretty disrupting. Before we check him out for apnea, we've got to try a nasal strip or something!

I am beginning to notice that Christmas is approaching. No, the house isn't decorated. No, the shopping's not done. Obviously, no presents are wrapped. I do not wish to discuss Christmas baking, thank you very much. We kind of have a plan to get everything taken care of. Fourteen days can be a lot of time. Especially if we skip that whole baking thing.

Part of The Plan: John and I spent the day together to shop for Christmas. One problem: Medication did not reach the correct temperature to infuse before we left. Nature of the day was stop and go, so running it in the car wasn't going to work. Just moved ahead.
Another problem: John and I shop alike. We look for the present that you didn't know you wanted/needed. We know what we're looking for, we just need to find it. We ran into Kari and caught up a bit. We found some unique stores, but after several hours we had 2 raffle tickets, 1 gift card and something on hold at a different location. We saw a lot of the same same-ness in a hundred stores.
Shortly after we arrived at the new location, we had a bag to carry! We hunted around a little more.
Another problem: I don't need to stop to eat. I don't get hungry. My stomach doesn't growl. I was still nursing the same drink from when we left the house. I didn't deny John the opportunity to refuel...It's just that I sometimes forget that other people eat.
Unresolved problem: THE GIFT is out of stock...everywhere...across the country...I hesitated and missed the chance to scoop it online. It's gone from there, too.

Andrew has almost completed his shopping. We committed to hitting a few places in particular tonight to try to wrap it up. Andrew is a great shopper. Last year, on the Saturday before Christmas, we went to Sherway together (yes, on the Saturday before The Big Day) and, using his eagle-eye, we quickly found everything we were looking for (and you didn't know you wanted).

It's a two-part process to subscribe to this blog. You enter your email address in the box in the sidebar, verify the letters on the screen and then a confirmation email is sent to you. The reader clicks the link in the email and Presto! You're in. My Mom hasn't confirmed her subscription...I'm going to need therapy.

Speaking of...my Mom, not therapy...We spent yesterday together. She stopped me as I was about to get into her car. "Wait. The phone," she said, referring to her Nokia 2100 floor-mounted car phone, circa 1987. "It interferes with your pacemaker."
"Ma! I don't have the pacemaker anymore, remember?"

We think we'll survive without the ooey-chewy-double-chocolate cookies we make each year, but are we ready to give up the fudge?

Make fudge or take up knitting? Fudge.

It...Is...Alive

I did it!
I followed the instructions about climatizing and soil that Lori gave me and it paid off.

We all had doubts. For more than a week it didn't look like the plant would survive and I endured some hefty teasing. This is the fourth flower, and there are plenty more to follow.

This Hibiscus: Hardy to Zone Chris.

Crushed Stone

Beth, on contract with CCAC, told me yesterday that I am not invincible.
"I am so! Helen Reddy told us so!"

Listen

Over the past 2 weeks, I've turned in my Superhero Club Card and now this! Devastating.

Hey Fans, in the Stands. If You're With Us, Clap Your Hands!

Every season, Andrew's and Jessica's sports teams play in several tournaments. For the first season ever, Andrew's hockey team may have just one tournament. Jessica's team still has 3 tournaments left in this season.

At each tournament, we've had family who live nearby: Kitchener, Ann Arbor, Cambridge, Oshawa, Clarington, Kingston, Dearborn. Even with volleyball we've played in Whitby...twice! Seriously, I can't remember any of our kids' teams playing in a tournament where we haven't had local fan support.

Until now. Guelph. People we know through other people live in Guelph, but there's no direct connection.

Six year streak comes to an end. It's been a great run.

In the Pink

Roni's indoor soccer team sports new colors and uniforms.

Sponsor: Trenton Home Hardware and Building Centre
[Psychedelic Furs] [Pretty in Pink]

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Upgrading

I have upgraded to a new version for this blog. This upgrade will indicate to the feed-reader that the last 25 posts are new.
Subscribers to the blog will receive notification of 25 new posts. I apologize for this inconvenience.

Twenty-five new posts in one day! I don't have that much to say.
CL

A speculator waited in line for days. Through the wind and rain. He needed to be among the first into the store to guarantee he would get the hot new Sony Playstation 3 gaming system.

No doubt, he rubbed his hands together imagining the profits he was going to make when he sold the console on ebay. The talk was that a system might fetch as much as $1500 if sold online.

His auction closed at $10.

Does that even cover the cost of warm drinks while holding that spot in line?

Editing Clutter

My memory has 3 distinct compartments: Short term, Long term and Sticky-note.

Science proves that every human brain has the first two. The Sticky-note section is where I keep a wide variety of information and sometimes I return to it. It's not a 'To-Do-List', it's actually a scrap of paper, where I've jotted a note and stuck it to the side of my brain like a Post-It note. Today I am clearing up the Post-It clutter.

I started by riffling through the Post-It notes like an animated scene in the margins of a dollar store book. Sometimes, the snippet is no more useful than the guitar riff from My Sharona. It's safe to get rid of it. More stuff like that will end up back there anyway.

Sometimes I just can't decide whether to commit it to the brain, or toss it away. I don't know why I put this stuff on the note in the first place...there's just something about it.

Like this, from Mark Steyn:
On the other hand, to spot the drawbacks in your medical treatment, you first have to be getting some. and
The default mode of any government system is to "control health-care costs" by providing less health care. (National Review, "Talk About Sicko")

Or, from Jeremy:
Would he be more receptive if he was more involved in the process?

Or, this, which I adapted from an Anonymous Poster:
If we just met and you asked me how I was, I'd say "great". If I knew you, I'd say "good" and if you were my best friend I'd tell you I was "o.k." I don't know you, so let me tell you the truth: "I don't feel well."

And potential posts like:
The parallels between my situation and a 1982 Capri (I should probably commit this since it really only appeals to me and Wayne...Done.)
A love-hate relationship with food.
Blog Auditions
Post a better description of the strangle-hold that Time has.

Some quick lines from the weekend:
Do you know you have an IV in your car?
Laundry is like meatloaf. It's a comfort activity.
This isn't about making capital improvements to accommodate TPN for the next 50 years.
The working group is very focused.

'But Gordie, it's a school night.' Wait, that one can go.

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Not Clever Enough

I would make a terrible newspaper columnist.

I am simply not clever enough to write something witty every day, let alone days in advance.

You may find it hard to believe, but there are times when events here are simply not very amusing. That's not exactly true. What I mean is that sometimes the entertaining story doesn't have wide-enough appeal.

Other stories are interesting enough and have broad appeal, but I'm just not talented enough to represent it in a 40-second read and convey the humor well.

Just being honest...and keeping you here for 27 seconds.

Great with Dead People

Michelle came out for a few days...'to be Chris' she was saying.

She drove the girls to school, picked them up, drove Jess to work, picked her up, Andrew's orthodontist appointment. Made trips to the store, to the post office, to pick up forgotten clothing, and made some really great dinners! Truly, thank you, sister. You made a difference.

Her 'Chris-ness' initiation began at the hospital with us for Andrew's surgery. To keep Andrew relaxed, she made a funny comment in the waiting room. We all laughed. Then Andrew said, "Gee, Auntie. You're pretty funny."

"I'm funny in tough situations. I'm hilarious when people die!" she loudly exclaimed.

"It's true," I confirmed. "She's great with dead people."

It really is true. The more critical the situation, the sharper Michelle's wit. I'm not sure that everyone in the surgical waiting room could appreciate it, is all.

Mesmerized

I was stopped behind a vehicle with this on the back window:



I finished reading the ad and noticed that I was getting sleepy.

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Cause Célèbre

I was stopped behind a vehicle that had been extensively decorated with ribbon-campaign markings. I'm not against campaigns that bring public attention to the cause, but, like so many other great ideas, ribbon campaigns have been exploited.

This car owner had ribbons and decals for:

Breast Cancer Awareness		End Male Violence Against Women
Support our Troops		September 11, 2001

MADD

All very worthwhile campaigns.

I was impressed with the social consciousness until this:

I'm sure there are some compelling soccer needs, but I don't buy that any of them would be in the same class as cancer or drunk driving!

The victim to remember in this ribbon campaign is the mark who forked over $4.95!

[Ribbon Campaigns]

Not Looking for Commitment

When you need a date but you're not into the club-scene, or the online-thing hasn't worked out so well...

Makes me think of Billboard Dad!

Game of Tags

Technorati isn't hearing my pings. I've claimed this blog, got Technorati tags in my posts and a Technorati search on the page. The site's been verified and checked.

It all worked fine for a while.

Thank you for advising me that the problem continues. I hope to completely resolve it soon.

CL

[Technorati] [Tags]

Interference

Here's something you don't hear everyday:

Hands on hips, Andrew stood in the living room and hollered,

"Hey! Who left their I.V. pole in the middle of the room? Jeez!"

[Intravenous Pole] [I.V.]

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Bill Buckner Day

1986 World Series, Game 6, 10th Inning
Boston vs. Mets

Buckner had played well in the 1986 post-season, but came apart in Game 6, going 0-for-5 with runners on in this game.
Buckner's legacy includes:
John Hodges poem Forgiving Buckner, Slide's debut album Forgiving Buckner. His error is referenced on The Simpsons episode Brother's Little Helper, in Stephen King's Kingdom Hospital and an Ally McBeal episode.

Buckner retired in 1990 after 21 years in major league baseball. He is remembered annually by our family.
Happy Anniversary, Roni and Wayne (Oct. 25, 1986).

[Bill Buckner] [1986 World Series]

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Robbers Hit Jackpot. Not!

Long before The Italian Job, Dortmunder et al. had Bank Shot . (Donald E. Westlake, 1972)

John Dortmunder had to have been in on this heist

.
[Donald E. Westlake] [Dortmunder]

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Hilda (Long) Wickens (1928 - 2006)

It is with great sadness that the family of Hilda Wickens (nee-Long) of Belleville announces her sudden passing, to her eternal home, on Friday October 20th, 2006.

Cherished mother and dear friend of Ron & Anne Wickens, Larry & Donna Wickens, Wayne & Roni Wickens, and Carol Atherton. Predeceased by her husband of 34 years, John (Jack) Wickens and her precious grandson Joshua John Wickens.

Hilda touched the lives of many, including her beloved grandchildren Brandon, Jenna, Stephen, Stacey, Kara, Kayne, Makenzie, Lindsay, Meghan, Robert, John, Calie and her treasured great granddaughter Brylind.

She is remembered with love by her brother Arthur Long and his wife Ruth of Shannonville. Our mother has been reunited with her parents Clarence and Roxanne (Gray) Long and her brother Charles Long and his wife Leola formerly of Shannonville. She is fondly remembered by her many nieces and nephews and her extended family of friends.

Raised in Shannonville, Hilda was a devoted daughter, sister, wife, mother, and grandmother and spent much of her life caring for others. Always one to share her many blessings, she was the first to volunteer her time and had, over the years, dedicated countless hours to supporting her faith community, the Belleville General Hospital Women's Auxiliary, and the Community Development Council of Quinte's community garden program. Her greatest joy, however, was her grandchildren, on whom she doted, and in whose eyes she saw eternal promise and hope. It is through them that her kind and gentle spirit lives on.

As was her way and in the spirit of giving, the family welcomes memorial donations in her name to the Community Develpment Council of Quinte's Good Baby Box Program or the Christ Church Bell Tower Fund.

A celebration of our mother's life will be held on Wednesday October 25th, at 2:00 p.m. at her dearly loved Christ Church, 39 Everett Street, Belleville. The family will receive friends at the JOHN R. BUSH FUNERAL HOME, 80 Highland Avenue, Belleville on Tuesday evening October 24th, from 7:00 .m.-9:00 p.m. and at Christ Church at 1:00 p.m. on Wednesday October 25th, 2006.

Please join us as we extend our thanks and share memories of our very own earth angel.

JOHN R. BUSH FUNERAL HOME (613- 968-5588)
www.quintefuneralcentres.com

Pat Carty Memorial

The Centennial Chargers improved to 6-0 overall after they buried the Quinte Saints 29-6 in the annual Pat Carty Memorial.

Photo: Intelligencer photo by Jeremy Ashley

My nephew, Kayne, plays for Centennial. Between his work schedule, our own schedule and his two-a-days in August, I haven't seen Kayne since June!

That's him in the background...#88 - green uniform.

[Centennial Chargers]

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Carpet Bombing?

A van went screaming up the street, slowed at the stop sign then raced to the light. Emblazened on the side of the vehicle was the logo and name of a carpet and floor cleaning company along with "Emergency Response Unit".

I have to ask, when does carpet/floor cleaning require an Emergency Response Unit?
Imagine this scenario:

"Good afternoon, thank you for calling Our Carpet Cleaning Company. How may I help you?"

[panic stricken] "Oh my gosh! I just spilled red wine on my carpet and the Governor General is coming to dinner tonight. Can you help me?"

"We'll be right there! Stay where you are. Don't touch anything! We're on our way."

A crew puts on their teflon protected jackets, jumps into the specially-equipped Econoline, hits the siren and speeds away!

Puh-lease!
[Carpet Cleaning] [Emergency Response]

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What I Need

... worth saying twice ...

Here's what I need: A decision-maker at MOH to say:

"We're going to step in here. For compassionate reasons, we're going to fix this for you, right now."

OHTAC and its committees and sub-committees can continue to follow their procedures and processes as the application moves from one panel to the next: assessment → review → recommendation → implementation, and I can finally get some relief.

from the page of Contemplations

London Beckoned Songs About Money Written by Machines

Just for the record,
The weather today is
slightly sarcastic with a
good chance of:
a) Indifference or
b) Disinterest in what the critics
say

from the album: A Fever You Can't Sweat Out
by: Panic! At The Disco
on the Label: Fueled By Ramen

Parts of this song have been stuck in my head for a week!

Click the Panic! button to hear it.

[Panic! at the Disco] [Fueled by Ramen]

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Visitor Information

Tuesday Oct. 10, 2006 - Monday Oct. 16, 2006
(12:00:01 a.m) - (11:59:59 p.m.)

at

No Access to Health Treatment

Source: Sitemeter Counter and Statistics (s//*chilee)

• I must've had something entertaining on the site last Tuesday.
• The Toronto Star article ran on Friday.

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Pass the Benadryl™

This weekend I must have reached my Lifetime Allowable Maximum Intake of a particular drug. My eyebrows are still causing me discomfort, even though it's been more than 24 hours since I administered the drug. Serious reactions do that: extensive total body hyper-sensitivity for an extended period of time.

I ran the IV early Saturday afternoon. Near the end of the infusion, I got an 'early allergy flash'. That's what I call it when my body temp jumps to (seems like) 400 degrees. If you've experienced or seen someone experience an E.A.F. you know, it's hot. Then the numbness. I noticed the swelling. I pressed STOP on the pump.

I'm supposed to avoid all histamine blockers until the end of next month. I quickly ran through my options: None. I had to get the Benadryl™ on board.

Disconnected and capped, I was unsure what to do with the med still in the line...the med that hadn't yet dripped out the Hickman into the vein. I'd seen nurses draw back on the line before. It could be done, but did I have the required level of expertise for that? What are the risks? There are some, I remember that much. What's the volume capacity of the line? I know this, I told myself. But was the capacity of the line important for this or did it have to do with something else? My rationale: if I knew the volume capacity of the line, then I could figure out the amount of saline I'd need to completely flush the line, right?

If only I had paid closer attention in TPN school. If only I could remember the protocol followed in May when I had a reaction at the hospital. Draw it back or push it through? Draw it back or push it through?

There wasn't a panic, don't misunderstand. We were thoughtfully weighing our options. We decided to push it through. We figured the worst possible result would require a shot of epinephrine and a trip to the hospital.

It turned out fine. When the Benadryl™ wore off, the symptoms came back, so I took more Benadryl™. It wore off, symptoms came back, have some more. Sunday afternoon, and I was still experiencing a reaction! Milder, but very uncomfortable.

I hope this is just an isolated case involving this order only. I'll wait to see what work-around Stella and Suzanne come up with, I guess. In the meantime, pass the Benadryl™, please.

[Allergic Reaction] [Drug Allergy]

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Clarification

Joe did not actually forget his lunch .

I was not a hostage to Oh Henry . The box on the porch posed no risk because it was sealed and wrapped.

[Joe] [Correction Notice]

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Hooked from Page One

"What happens to a dream when the dreamer is gone?"

Paint it Black by Janet Fitch (Little, Brown and Company, September, 2006.)

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I-scream. You-scream.

I was outlining the time it takes in one day to run my Nutrition/Hydration program. [You can read it here. ]

That exercise made me appreciate our ice cream maker. Vanilla ice cream is only ever 25 minutes away. Slight variations: Smarties, Cherry-Vanilla, Mint Chocolate Chip.

'What about chocolate ice cream?' you ask. I don't make it anymore. Like I have time to chop the chocolate, mix it with milk, heat it, cool it, add more ingredients, mix it again, pour it into the machine and then freeze it!

I don't eat ice cream, yet it gives me comfort to know that vanilla ice cream is 25 minutes away.

---

Without ice cream, there would be darkness and chaos. ~Don Kardon (U.S. Olympian)

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[Ice Cream]

Happy Thanksgiving

It's Thanksgiving Day. Here are a few things that I am thankful for:

1. John, Andrew, Jessica. (I won't embarrass you by adding something serious or mushy)
2. Our family...you know the value of laughter and revive my spirit.
3. Friends...for patiently listening and entertaining me when I need distraction.
4. Canada. It's not perfect, but we are allowed to discuss her faults.
5. The end of Roy's vacation. He is re-sizing my bracelet.

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Too Large Fries

Andrew needed some McDonald's^® french fries for his science experiment.

I was going to be in the area, so I offered to get the frites and drop them off to him during his lunch period. He has Science during the following period, so it would work out well.

To make sure that Andrew and his friends wouldn't eat the experiment before it began, I decided to pick up 2 large fries: one for consumption, one for investigation.

I took the bag that held my order from the server at the local McDonald's^®.
"Are you sure this is right?" I asked her.
She nodded. I thought that the bag was too heavy to contain only fries. I wondered if, perhaps someone had put in a Quarter Pounder^® in error. Or a large drink.

I opened the weighty bag to check. Inside: 2 buckets of french fries.

Per 1 Large Fry Order:

Nutrition Facts
Per Serving (177 g)
Amount	% Daily Value
Calories 570
Fat 28 g	43 %
Saturated 11 g	73 %
+ Trans 3.5 g
Cholesterol 30 mg
Sodium 460 mg	19 %
Carbohydrate 71 g	24 %
Fibre 5 g	20 %
Sugars 1 g
Protein 6 g
Vitamin A 0 %	Vitamin C 10 %
Calcium 4 %	Iron 15 %

According to their website, McDonald's Canada serves more than 125 million pounds of French fries in one year. We just gave ½ lb to science.

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Science Experiment

My Name is Christine. I Want To Be a Food Addict.

Gene-Jack Wang, a researcher at Brookhaven National Laboratory, released the findings of his study on the use of gastric pacing devices to treat obesity. His report will appear in the Oct. 17 issue of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

To control hunger, the device stimulates the vagus nerve, which then tells the brain that the stomach is full. Gastric pacemakers to treat obesity were first studied in pigs in 1995. Since 2000, GES has been tested in humans to change eating behavior (Shikora, New England Medical Center).

Researchers in Wang's group learned that even though satiety was achieved in the brain (artificially via the pacing device), subjects' brains displayed a 'need' to eat. These desires to eat were shown to be driven by the same neural network that has been linked to cravings in addicts.

Wang says, "We now know the decision to eat involves emotion and the cognitive system." He also states, "I do not think it is surprising they have found a link between drug addiction and overeating. In a way you can think of eating as a 'necessary addiction' - if we were not addicted to eating, most of us would stop eating."

Reuters,UK, Oct. 2, 2006 Food May Be Like A Drug

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Space to Spare

Not an especially secure storage locker. Not a lot of space.

Ideal for migrating birds to store their possessions until spring.

---

(where you'll find their nest-egg)

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Today's Horoscope

From astrology.com :

Today, you see how the energy you put out is coming back to you. Get ready for a profound sense of fullness, of reward. There's a long overdue justice coming your way today...All of your hard work is finally starting to pay off.

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Attainment Scaling

I had a follow-up with GI today, and (after putting it off for a month) the TPN clinic. I was led to the exam room then left alone. I looked at the pictures of the stomach and paced around a little.

Then I decided I would weigh myself. Taking my weight is mandatory at each visit. I don't judge my improvement by weight; I consider energy level and the answer to 'how do i feel' to be better indicators of improvements.

Regardless, I know that Usha will weigh me. If by some miracle she doesn't, I know Suzanne will. Suzanne never forgets.

I took off my shoes (I'm never allowed to keep them on) and stepped up. I was aghast! The scale showed 7 ½ kg down since July! I thought my weight would be down a bit, but 7 ½ kg, quick do the math, that's 16½ pounds!

So I put my shoes on, pulled my sweater on, put my keys into my pocket, put all the coins from my wallet into the other pocket and stepped back on the scale. Not much different. Dread creeped over me, which was too bad, because up until then, I was having a (relatively) good day.

Stella and Suzanne came in and Suzanne asked me to get on the scale. I stepped on. I thought heavy thoughts. She looked. I stepped off. She moved the scale. I stepped on, she looked, I stepped off. She tapped the scale. I repeated the on/off. She did the math and said "There's no way, you've lost that much." Whew! Different scale, different numbers. That's more like it.

Line: check. Meds: check. Hydration: needs improvement. Iron infusion? Better get it checked. I admit to them that I am not in a good routine with the program right now, and they know that I will pull it all together again. I always do.

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Thank You

Thank you to all my sponsors who have pledged contributions for the Breast Cancer Foundation's Run for the Cure. Ten days until the event and I've reached and revised then surpassed my fundraising goals.

I'm not surprised...I know some pretty terrific people!

If I do make it to Kingston that day, be assured that the picture you are seeking will be posted.

Pledges can be made until October 31, 2006 at Run for the Cure .

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Joe

Monday night Joe called. Nobody was home so he left a message. Part of his message went something like this:

'...and Chris, it's driving me crazy...what was the guy's name who used to ride his bike around behind the garbage trucks so he could see them crush the trash?'

I called him back and left a quick message for him: "Dave Lemans. Fond regards."

I'm happy I could work in a Joe-story.

[Joe] [Dave LeMans]

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Green Thumb

Had an unscheduled visit to the Fracture Clinic with Andrew today. His cast had to be removed so the doc could check the pins.

Once the cast had been cut and removed, the tech cleaned Andrew's skin with some Hibidane or Chlorhex or something like that. Andrew is careful about keeping the cast and his arm/hand dry, plus it's only been 2 weeks since this cast went on, so I didn't notice any real skin changes.

"I have a green thumb," Andrew exclaimed.
"Thank God somebody in the family does," I said. "Finally someone will tend to the plants!"
"Good one," praised Andrew.

The pins: declared to be normal. Guess they're bothering him because of the atrophy in his arm.

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Traffic Signals

I keep a counter on my blog to count visits to the site. I've had the counter since February 2006, when I told friends and family about the site. Very recently I discovered the depth of information that counter keeps. Relax, it doesn't collect information about the visitor, just the visit.

That's how I discovered I had a visit from someone who was connected to the internet through the server of the Government of the Province of Ontario. I don't know which pages were viewed during the visit, but that person was on the site for 22 minutes, 59 seconds. Most visits don't record that much server information.

The counter is how I found out that I have a regular reader in Finland. I don't know anybody in Finland, but a user who logs onto a server in Finland reads about my circumstances 1-2 times each week.

Most visits are recorded as IP addresses, which isn't very meaningful to me. Seventy-seven percent of readers are in Canada. Nothing surprising about that stat. The average visit is about 4 minutes.

The optimist says today's visit would've been somebody at MOH checking the site; the practical part of me says it was probably the District Assistant to the Field Administrator of Miscellaneous Services on his break, surfing to the next blog.

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I'm Not Hercules

Monday 1:30 p.m. at an intersection. This particular intersection has a total of 7 left turn lanes, 8 lanes for thru-traffic, plus each direction has a right turn lane. It is a major intersection.

I was the first car in an outside left turn lane and my light was red. There was a car in the middle of the intersection. The car wasn't moving and was positioned in such a way that traffic could not pass. Right turns could be made and one southbound lane was passing.

Horns started. I rolled down the window and heard the driver trying to start the engine. I got out of my car, approached the stranded driver and asked what the problem was.
"I ran out of gas. I called the Auto Club," the older man said. By older, I mean older than my parents (who are still young).

"Well, we gotta get you out of the intersection. We'll have to push you out of the way." I said.
I was far enough from the car that we had to raise our voices. And there were lots of cars around. Many drivers had windows open on their vehicles.

Again, louder, I said, "We'll have to push the car out of the way." I waved to a couple drivers to encourage them to help. One was on the phone; another had to adjust something on the dash. All the while, more cars lined up and waited for the man's Oldsmobile to get out of the way.

Now, I'm no Hercules. I'm not Goliath. I'm not feeble, but I know that I do not look like I can single-handedly move this man's car across 3 lanes of roadway. I could not interest anyone in helping. Finally, four cars behind mine, a door opened. The driver got out and came to help.

We did it. Me and this other guy. While the others watched. Once the Olds was out of the way, we shook hands and went back to our own vehicles.

I do not understand how any of those other drivers could watch this situation, assess it and then make a conscious effort to not help. Sad, isn't it?

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I'm Positive I'm Negative

No new stories today. No road trips in a week.

No communication from the Ministry for 2 months; and based on the last letter I received, none in the forecast. A low pressure system pushing in, making the mood gray. Fifty-percent chance of relief. I was named President of the Be Miserable for a Day Club but the honor does nothing to improve my disposition.

Tomorrow, I will cede the position to a new President. That makes me feel better.

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He's a Good-Looking Man

Last week, I complimented my mother on losing weight. "In fact," I told her, "I think you're slimmer today, then at our wedding." We'd recently had the photo albums out at our place, so I knew this to be true.
My Mom got out her album of our wedding and we looked at the snaps. "Yeah, maybe. Oh, I don't know," she hesitated. "Who's that? Oh, look at Kara, Kayne and Shannon!" Subject changed. We discussed the hall, the decorations, the day.

My Dad was now flipping through the pictures. "What year was that?" he asked. "1990," I replied. Mom and I had moved the conversation along.

"I looked great," my father reflected out loud. "I'm a good-looking man. Yes, I am."

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This Should Hurt

About 10 days ago, I started having a problem with a tooth. When someone has severe stomach problems, good oral health is hard to achieve and maintain. I finally decided to have it checked out.

My own dentist is on vacation, but his Associate checks this for me. "Does it hurt?" he asks. I describe it as uncomfortable, but not painful. He looks at the tooth again. "Are you sure this hasn't been hurting?"
"It's not painful," I assure him.
"This should hurt," he tells me. And repeats himself. His Chair Assistant is nodding throughout the exchange.

He proceeds to fix it. He isn't certain he'll be able to do all that is required, but does all he can. "If you feel spontaneous pain in your tooth, you need to let me know right away," he warns. For the rest of that day, when I feel pain in my tooth, I try to analyze it. Sure, I have pain now, but isn't that because I'd had dental instruments poking around for an hour. That's just to be expected.

One problem with having chronic pain is that you don't notice all pain. I add pain to the inventory of things wrong that I carry around. I really don't know what's caused by injury or spontaneous.

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Just What I Knee-ded

I've given the xrays, the DVD of the MRI, and ultrasound of my knee to the Orthopedist. He reviews them and reads the reports. I describe to him the problems I experience with my knee and we discuss the location/incidence of pain and swelling.

"The findings of the investigations are consistent with what you are telling me." Point to Chris for credibility.

"Your knee isn't the worst that I've ever seen. The only way to resolve it, is through surgery. You are a terrible candidate for surgical intervention. A routine procedure becomes very high risk for you. And this isn't an emergency; it's completely elective." Point to Doc.

We agree to stabilize it in a brace. He suggests a product to reduce swelling. I can't tell if it's latex-free. He doesn't know, so he gives me one to sample only. He says he would like to offer some anti-inflammatories as part of the treatment, but since I'm allergic to NSAIDS, he can't even suggest a topical that may help. Even topicals have a degree of systemic effect. I did not know this.

I learn that for the brace to work properly, I have to put the buttress in a particular spot. Problem is, that spot is the central pain site. At least I'll know if I've got it on right.

It's definitely supporting the knee. But I can't cheat-walk anymore. Cheat-walk is the term I use to describe how one changes her gait and stride to compensate for tears in the cartilage and tendons of her knee. When one cheat-walks, pain is reduced. Granted, it probably causes other problems by loading stress or something, but the primary benefit is pain management.

Day one: Brace in position for 12 hrs.
Knee lock up incidents during that time: One.
That is an improvement of 11 lockups over the same time period.

Day two: 12 hrs.
Knee lock ups: One.
I can live with that. Maybe the pain will improve too. I'm on it too much right now to really judge any improvement.

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Call My Family

My family's largest fault is that we do not ask for help. So, when someone does ask, it means he or she really needs it. Several months ago, Michelle was admonishing me for not asking for help. She said that there would never be a circumstance when you couldn't call your family for help.

"Well," I said "If a bus runs me over, I would not refuse the help of strangers and ask them to call my family to help instead."
"OK," she agreed, "but that is probably the only circumstance. Now, promise that you wouldn't accept help from the strangers only after you try to lift the bus by yourself."

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Straight-Talk

When: A summer Sunday.
Where: Jeremy's and Sarah's cottage.
What: A Conversation with my brother
Their place is beautiful. On the lake. Walkouts on every side of the house, upstairs and down. The weather that day was perfect for just sitting outside, and doing nothing. I don't see Jay very often. He tells me that I look good. I don't look like I'm fading away anymore. I tell him it continues to be a struggle. He asks what I want. I tell him I want to feel well. I want to get my life back. I want my clothes to fit again.

"Well," he asks plainly, "why don't you just have your jeans taken in a couple of inches?"

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Stonewash in Vogue

Friday. This afternoon I'm putting the second stone-coat on the porch. If I get the second coat on today, then John can apply the sealer on Sunday. I don't feel that great, but if I don't want to be the one to apply the sealer (I don't), the stone has to be finished today. The only catch is that I can't do it until after I take Jessica to work. That's fine. I've run the meds and some fluid, changed into my Huck Finn shorts. I'm good to go.

It's hot. And I'm putting this stone coat down quickly. Like my Mom would say, I was working. Got a good rhythm and pattern to doing it. Risers looks great. Very pleased with how they came out. Just about done. There, done. Stand back to admire. The product was different than I expected, but it looks good.

What's this? Rain? Should be ok. It's barely a sprinkle and the stone coating will be fine as long as it doesn't rain into the porch, i.e. to the south. Not too worried. Putting the tools away, and now it's pouring. It's a deluge and its hammering the door which means it is, in fact, raining into the porch. Towards the south. And the windows are down on the car. And the windows are open in the house. I've got to go around the house in through the sliding door. And back out. I'm soaked.

It's toast. The porch is washed out. The risers? Don't even ask. Darn it! Darn it! Darn it! Fifteen minutes and the rain is done, the sun is out. I'll see what it looks like after it dries. Maybe stonewash is making a comeback.

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Is the Dog in the House?

The dog got out of the yard the other day. Around 12:30. Do a quick check inside the house, slide open the cheese drawer in the fridge and take the lid off the bucket of treats. When that doesn't bring him out, I know he's not at home.
Outside, I look for clues of which direction he went: no tires screeching, I don't think he ran across the road, but then again, it's a really hot day in Suburbia, so there's not much traffic. No dogs barking at all, so either nobody in the neighborhood has their dog out, or he's farther than I think. It's been less than 5 minutes since the search began.
We split up: Andrew takes the path across the road, David, our neighbor, rides down the street, Annette, another neighbor, follows the path on our side of the street and I take the ground below her at the creek.
"Buddy. Buddy" Four different voices. Four different whistles.
I hear a jingle. Sounds like his tags. Other side of the creek. Where is the safest spot to jump across the creek? There. Did it. That jingling noise belongs to the dog being walked by a boy named Shawn. He tells me that Buddy was following them until he and his Grandma's dog ran down the bank to the creek. So I go up the bank to the park. There's a picnic going on at the Natural Garden. [Well, all the plants are gone now, so it's really just a sandy area surrounded by log benches, but I still think of it as the natural garden.]
Two adults, six children...one boy, around 3 years old is crying. I'm just about to ask them if they've seen a fat, black dog when one of the girls calls out, "Hey, we've got your dog!"
As if on cue, Buddy raises his head and a space is made in the circle that had surrounded him, and here he is. Once he's on leash, I go over to say thanks and find that Buddy has squished all the juice boxes and eaten the crackers the toddler had in his hand. No juice, no crackers, 95 degrees, I'd probably cry, too.

Take the dog home. Put some juice boxes, and some water, and a box of snack crackers in a bag. Back to the park to replace the lost food. And we're all good.

If you plan a picnic at Munn's Creekk Park, the biggest pest isn't the ants; it's Buddy.

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The Princes of Malibu

Normally, this isn't the type of show I watch on TV. I was cruising the dial looking for something that was mindless. We had just ended an absolutely brutal Pinochle game. I was feeling pretty crummy before my -87 score! I stopped on The Princes of Malibu. I recognized David Foster and stayed tuned in.
Funny show. Not funny in an Arrested Development - way, but the antics on Princes are just so dumb, it's funny. Here's what happened: David Foster had Brody's Escalade towed because the 23 yr old had parked in "his spot" again. Not so outrageous, then you learn he had it towed to Phoenix! From Malibu to Phoenix! So then Brody retaliates by flying to Vegas with his brother and friend on D.F.'s plane. They run an enormous tab under the pretense of being with D.F. But the truth is uncovered by the Concierge and the boys have to pay for their shenanigans. Brody wonders how D.F. is going to react when they get home.

Brody's friend says, "What? Are you afraid of the guy from Canada who plays the piano?"

Follow up: I guess it was just that particular episode, matched with my mood or something. I've seen the show since then, and it's really terrible television!

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Florence Nightingale

So a 30-ish year-old man was walking through a home improvement store the other day with flip-flops on his feet. He walked into some fixtures that had been left in the aisle and cut his toe. It was a slice kind-of-cut. He's screaming about stitches and the "Incident Manager" was called to administer First-Aid. But nobody could find the First-Aid box. After several minutes of nothing being done to help this man, I walked over, pulled some alcohol swabs, gauze and bandaids from my purse and got to work. He's still going on about stitches and the time he's going to lose on his project. I explained that it may not need stitches. At best, maybe some of that crazy-glue stuff, but if he wants to avoid a trip to the hospital, take the bandage and wrap it tightly in the direction that will fold the skin over the cut. I go back to what I was doing before. Fixed up and feeling better, the man tells the Incident Manager, a clerk and other shopper in the area about how I was a hero. That I would selflessly help him with his bloody toe.

Morals of this story: Clean up the aisles. Watch where you're walking. I'm a hero.

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Three Easy Steps

The Delta kitchen faucet "installs in 3 easy steps". The map-like fold-out instructions indicate 4 steps. I ignored this blatant warning.
According to Delta, it will take about 1 hr to install the new faucet. I had an hour and it needed to be done. Besides, I've done this before.
After 1 hour, I had the cupboard cleared out, wrenches ready. Turn off the water supply. Check. Remove old faucet. Check. Another hour gone. Laying inside the cupboard, not a great idea. But once the old tap's out, there's no turning back.
Install the new one. Check. Connect the water supply. Check.
Turn on the water. Ooops, turn off the water. Get old towels to soak up water. Get flashlight. Get batteries for flashlight. Confirm location of leak. Lay in the cupboard. Keep the bucket handy. Tape and tighten. Rest. Tighten. Rest. Tighten. Rest. Design feather-light-weight wrenches in your mind. No....more....strength.
Turn on water supply. Note very minor leak at one supply tube. Tape with duct tape. Call Joe. Reflect upon his statement that wearing baggy pants doesn't make you a plumber.

Along comes Lju. Turns off water. Tightens connection. Turns water supply on. Done. Three easy steps.

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I Need New Shoes

My red/white/black Nike Battleground sneakers have lost their spunk. Every person should have a pair of shoes like these. Not my shoes, but shoes that contain a mysteriousness about them and when you wear them it seems like you really can run faster, jump higher, walk taller, feel better. That's what my Battleground sneakers held. These weren't no everyday shoes. These were different: truly unique, one of a kind. I wore them when I wanted to, and sometimes when I needed to.

But somehow they evolved into everyday wear. They're not worn out, exactly, but the magic of them is gone. They are only shoes.

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Me and Jamie Lee

Carmen says I remind her of Jamie Lee Curtis. Thank you, Carm, but is that Jamie Lee Curtis defending against a psychotic murderer in Hallowe'en? A double-crossing crook named Wanda? An adventurous secret-agent from True Lies? Slapstick comedy of Nora Krank?

I get it! Our mothers were each in a film featuring a hotel/motel. Our fathers have been honored for lifetime achievement in the industry.

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