Saturday, May 30, 2015

Day 2

Warm lemon water
Half a quart Mean Green
quart Mean Green + pineapple (I used zucchini in it, which gave it an unpleasant peppery taste.)
Half a quart strawberry juice
Oh, ok, I had some waffle fries from Chik-Fil-A.  Couldn't handle my boyfriend eating them in front of me. 

A little bit headachy... Probably all the crying I did yesterday and last night.  I probably shouldn't have watched the video of the dog who follows his beloved owner to the hospital after a stroke, where the man dies, but the dog rejoices after a woman is wheeled out with his former owner's heart inside her... Ah... Cheap shot.  

It's like telling someone the plot of Snoopy, Come Home after all these years. Niagara  Falls.  Just can't do it.  

Good news: my ankle and foot hurt a little less today, though my neck and shoulder are trying to tighten back up in me.  I feel like I was in a car accident.

Down since last weigh-in: 1
Pounds lost this week: 3
Total pounds lost: 3

Not bad. 

Day 1

1 Quart Mean Green Juice
1/2 Quart Strawberry Juice
insomnia....

But my cells feel better.

Completed:

Too much crying, exacerbated be watching Atonement and Seeking A Friend For the End of the World, which I thought was supposed to be a comedy.  

Worked on my tan for exactly 8 minutes.  I just don't wanna fry like I did the last time went to the beach so I'm prepping my skin a bit.  No discernible tan, really.  I'm just trying to avoid another case of sun poisoning.  

Made my juice, which was quite a feat of preparation and took me a couple of hours.

Total pounds lost: 1

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Every Day I'm Hobblin'

Two weeks ago, I was being a very good girl.  I'd gone to the gym for the second day in a row, cementing my newfound drive toward health, and I'd walked my dog two nights in a row.  I was starting to feel really healthy again.  I was going to get myself back to running shape again, and run at dawn.

My dog and I had turned at the end of the street and turned back toward the house.  

Famous last words: 

The last thing I remembered was... I was just worrying that my dog had headed toward a sewer grate and turned to urge him back away from the sewer.  I was afraid he would fall in if I didn't get him away and with my right foot at street level I put my left foot into the gutter and reached out to tug his leash...

Instead of the gutter being an inch below the level of the street, it was closer to three.  My left ankle folded under my leg, and with an audible and painful loud CRACK, I fell headlong.  Luckily, I was able to fall flat on my face in the grass.  A few feet further down the street and I'd have fallen into a gutter filled with shards of broken glass.

So I feel lucky to have landed on my face on top of the concrete sewer grate cap.  Yeah, lucky.

But there I was, lying stunned in the grass, and wondering if that ominous crack I'd heard spelled a broken ankle for me.  I felt like I was going to be sick, it hurt so horribly.  I was also wondering if I'd be able to stand up again, and somehow get back to the house.  I considered seriously that if my ankle wouldn't hold me, I'd have to drag myself home through two driveways and two yards worth of grass, on my belly. 

My poor dog was cowering, shaking, a few feet away from me with the guiltiest expression on his face, though none of my condition was actually his fault.   It was just a freak accident.  I specialize in freak accidents that result in personal bodily harm.  Don't ask me why - it seems to be my super power.  

Fortunately for me, it was dark and the grass was very damp, so sliding wouldn't be too impossible.  I was grateful that I had my phone in my pocket, in case I needed to call for help.

Worst ankle injury of my life, without a doubt.  Standing was excruciating to the point I considered lying back down and sliding across the grass and concrete after all.  

I whimpered all the way back to my house, which was an impressive feat, considering that I broke into wailing the minute I opened my kitchen door.  :). The only reason I had any control over the wailing was that I didn't want my neighbors coming out or calling the cops.  

Ooh, that'd be embarrassing on top of painful.  

My summer was flashing before my eyes though.  I had so many things in mind for my brief unpaid summer "vacation" and wearing a cast was a panicked possibility I had to consider.  I can imagine how horrible sitting on the beach at Hilton Head would be in a boot.  I'd do it, too.  Tan everywhere except under my cast and then have a bizarre white leg and foot for a year.  No way to get in the ocean and cool off. No way to easily take a shower.  Minimum six weeks.

I won't lie -- I wailed and sobbed for about an hour after I got home, terrified I'd broken my ankle.  It was horribly painful and swelling.  I propped it up high with ice and tried to sleep while a wave of nausea kept slamming me.  After asking medical advice I decided that if the swelling didn't subside or it hurt or looked worse anytime before morning I'd head to the ER.  

In the morning the swelling went down a little but I was having a lot of trouble walking, and not just because of ankle pain.  I was hurting along my shin, my calf, both sides of my foot, and both my instep and arch felt like something was torn up inside.  

So the next day, I hobbled slowly until my lunchtime, when I went to the urgent care clinic for an X-Ray... But their X-Ray machine was broken so the nurse practitioner who barely examined my foot said that it would have bruised or swelled if it was broken.  Well, heck, it WAS swelled.  I've normally got a skinny foot.  She said if it didn't feel better in a week to go see a regular doctor.  She said it was a severe sprain, and it would probably take longer to heal than if I'd broken it.  *sigh*. 

My ankle is still screwed up.  The bottom of my foot is making walking painful every few days.  I suspect that the crack I heard was my plantar fascia tearing apart.  It's been painfully tight for months, so now it's swollen and my arch supporting shoes hurt too much to wear.  :). Lovely.  

The kicker (Ha ha) is that I can't give myself a decent pedicure -- trimming my toenails is nearly impossible unless I can bend that ankle to reach.  But it hurts too much.  I'd leave it to the professionals but they don't ever take care of ingrown toenail prevention. I have pretty feet with little toes, but I have toenails that curve down at the sides rather than being flat.  It just requires special trimming to manage, but managing that at the moment is difficult.  So yay.  

Two weeks later I'm still trying to walk without tweaking my ankle or arch, and wondering just what cardio I can do that will be effective without exacerbating the injury.  I won't be running for a while, and I'm really disappointed by that.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Le Comte Saint-Germaine, Is That You?

Ah the mysteries of the world... And the attempts of a pathological liar to make himself seem mysterious.  Let me preface this by saying the idea greatly amuses me.  One could almost be flattered at the possibilities of motivation for this caliber of sophistry.

I've known about St. Germaine since I was 12, when he was merely the vampire hero of Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's Hotel Transylvania and battling pathetic wannabe satanists, seducing the ladies of the court all the while.  

However, beyond a History Channel feature and the mentions of St. Germaine in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series, I didn't give him much further thought.  

Until today, when I came across another article about the mythical immortal man, and discovered his claim about parentage.  Which, incidentally, completely overlaps the heroically romanticized tale my pathologically tale-telling former friend provided, right down to the name, though given a slight twist for authentic flavor.  

Like a sliver of lemon zest.  How bright and refreshing.

Ah ha ha! Oh, you nearly got me there!  It did sound believable, though I still didn't trust it after so many blatant lies.  But thanks for the laughs.  It was amusing when I found the dash of St. Germaine in there.  

Truly, with such great storytelling creativity, why not turn your talents to writing fiction? If you're a success, you could always become a wealthy man and have a viable excuse for such curmudgeonly coldheartedness -- asset protection.  

Yeah, he's about as close to royalty as I am, and I share ancestors with lots of British highborn myself, including royalty, which means I just have an amusing family tree. As many do.  We're all related in some way.  Even those liars claiming kinship to the Hungarian royal family.  

Ah, this is the only picture I could find on the net of the cover that I remember for this book.  I apologize that it is such low resolution, but you probably understand why it appealed to me in my early teens, while I wished earnestly for the Interview With the Vampire sequel that I didn't know was in the works.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

How YOU Doin'?

http://www.edutopia.org/blog/12-choices-step-back-from-burnout-vicki-davis

A great article that just may be a lifesaver... I found it very helpful for dealing with my own feelings of professional hopelessness recently.  One more week of school...

One more week of school....

I can make it.

I know I'm gonna make it.  

And then I get to think about going to the beach. :)

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Dancing in the Red Shoes

I finally got over a really painful "hormone week" and my tree pollen allergies are now going haywire, so I'm on pseudoephedrine, hoping to dry it up and somehow soothe my sore throat and coughing.  My calves are aching and cramping from all the hilly walking yesterday, and I'm really thankful I wore running shoes.  The rest of me still hurts all over.  I'm considering being re-tested for rheumatoid arthritis, considering that my feet are rapidly and painfully changing shape.

As usual, my concern is finding a skilled doctor who us a healer, and not a profiteer.  I'm not sure they exist in this country anymore, but it's not like I can just bebop over to England and ask the NHS to help me so that I can continue to walk.  

I sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies every time I move, and I have joints popping loudly in places where I'd never have expected it --- such as my sore elbow joints.  I'll have to say a personal thanks to the doctor who dismissed this ten years ago as "just a virus" because of his own incompetence.  

Still, as crummy as I've been feeling, I donated completely unmedicated and presumably healthy blood on Thursday and it wore me out.  I was lightheaded afterward, though I ate plenty of food and drank a decent amount of liquids.  

The donation site continued to bleed for hours afterward, of course.  It soaked the cotton ball, and it was still wet when I was supposed to remove it hours later.  Something made my blood pressure rise and I ended up over exerting myself when I should have been resting.  But no. 

I need some time off from fulfilling others' expectations of me.  I'm actually feeling a lot more run down than I've been letting on, but everyone misses the obvious physical signs of that. Excessive and unrejuvenating sleep, dark circles deepening under my eyes, and loss of appetite.  Nobody notices anything. And I'm expected to dance feverishly to everyone else's tune.  

How about if I just chop off the little red shoes with my feet still in them? *


* The Red Shoes by Hans Christian Andersen, in case you don't know your fairy tales.


Renaissance Festival

Yesterday I went to the Tennessee Renaissance Festival and really had a great time.  I loved all the costumes.... I really wish I'd had a costume to wear.  :). Yes, I have the skills to make myself some killer costumes and absolutely no opportunity to wear them.  Maybe I can retire and sell costumes someday. 


I was in medieval-fantasy-cosplay heaven.  I really appreciated how much time, effort, and money people put into the festival.  The photo is the home of the event organizers -- a real castle.  Some thought it was weird to have a lifetime dream of living in one's own castle.  I don't think so myself.  However, it worries me that I'm being looked at as weird by that person because I disagree -- I think it's a charming dream the owner has to live in a gorgeously appointed castle.  I've got my own dreams about where I'd like to live, but I probably can't afford it if I'm often paying for everyone else.  

I just wish that with my massive pay cut this year via insurance increases (and no raise for the last five years), that I was actually getting decent health care for what I pay.  I'm getting virtually none.  But those who refuse to work and just collect a check need to have some idiot like me pay their bills for them so they can have the best medical care for the issues they've caused themselves.

What's he going to say if I ever have a Halloween themed room in my home someday? My hobbies are linked very much to my interests, and of course, giving up all that will not bode well for my mental health.  I grew up being denied following my interests, for the most part, and it's made me the neurotic, chronically depressed person that I am today.

So do me a favor: don't seek to destroy what little happiness I've carved from my oppressive life. I won't live long after that and I won't leave my vast fortune to anybody who ever hurt me.  

This week I've spent ridiculous hours sewing baby gifts. Why? Somebody needs a fundraiser and baby gifts are always needed.  Blasted people keep having babies and expect you to coo over theirs and shower them with gifts.  :). Okay, I do like making things for little ones, I'll admit that.  I wish I had some of my own to make things for, because it's painful to make this stuff for everyone else but me.

So I do, and I grit my teeth, and rarely get a thank you.  Thank you notes are not passé. People just have extremely bad manners these days.