christmas comments

1. The following lyric/tune from "Sleigh Ride" (you know—"Just hear those sleigh bells jingling,
ring ting tingling too...") is stuck in my head, even though it's patently wrong:

Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, it's grand
just holding your hand
we're walking in a wonderworld of sand

It happens every year. It used to annoy me, but now it amuses me.

2. Loopy and I have agreed that pies are dangerous. Dangerous and sneaky. You can just be minding your own business and suddenly pie gets in your mouth. We've lost half a pecan pie and two-thirds of a pumpkin pie that way. It's downright scary really.

3. Joel is coming to visit! Tomorrow! Yay!!!! (well actually today). It's now 2:28 a.m.; do we think he's already awake and packing? (how do I know he decided not to pack until this morning early? i just know, okay??)

possibly the best...

1. Possibly the best blog post ever (no offense to all the other blog posts I've read in my lifetime): this recent post on Franklin's blog. Seriously. Go read it.

2. Possibly the best lasagna ever (no offense to all the other lasagnas I've eaten... well, okay, some offense to some of them): Angela's fan-TAS-tic veggie lasagna that she brought over today. Oh. My. God. It was delicious. We ate a third of it for dinner. And by "we" I mean me & Loopy. And by "a third" I am talking about the usual size of lasagna pan.

Angela and Franklin, thank you for doing your share to make life worth living.

o come, o come, Emmanuel... or someone? anyone? ... fuck ...

god, I just love christmas music... the really old-fashioned stuff... it's the only thing that really makes me miss being religious.

I remember the fervor of singing, "O come, o come, Emmanuel..." and believing that someone all-powerful and all-loving really would someday come to wipe our tears away, that someday there would be "no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away" (Revelation 21:4, King James version) (yup, I looked it up).

It was a bittersweet comfort of aching beauty to think: this world, with all its pain, this is not the end of the story—this is not "as good as it gets." The mass graves, the gas chambers, the torturers and executioners, famine and AIDS—horror does not have the last word in anyone's life. To think that somewhere in another world, or someday in our own, there will be justice and healing...

At the same time, there was also the wondrousness of God being born as a human being to feel the pain and suffering of humanity. It doesn't make any sense (as a Turkish Muslim urgently told me, "God no baby, no die!") but it has tremendous emotional resonance. As a 17th-century priest-poet wrote,

That He, whom the sun serves, should faintly peep
Through clouds of infant flesh; that He the old
Eternal Word should be a Child and weep,
That He who made the fire should fear the cold...
--Richard Crashaw (1612/13-1649)

Top five songs for evoking that aching wonder and that bittersweet longing—the God of the ages among us, the hope for healing for a broken world...

1. O come, o come, Emmanuel

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
...
O come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.

2. Es ist ein Rose entsprungen (Lo, how a rose e'er blooming)

I love the phrase, "amid the cold of winter, when half-spent was the night"

3. Coventry Carol

I remember Franklin writing last year that he thought that it was the original lullaby that Mary sang to Jesus. The actual words are all gory, about the slaughter of the innocents... those old-time folks (i.e. during the Renaissance) really liked that kinda stuff!

4. O holy night

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

There's that stuff again about the poor world in turmoil, and all the rejoicing and new and glorious morns. *sigh* The line, "Fall... on your knees" still gives me goosebumps, a little... huh, I don't remember the later verses, but here's a stanza that was quite radical in its day:

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His Name all oppression shall cease.

5. O little town of Bethlehem

Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

The phrase "o morning stars together" also gave me goosebumps, and I loved the verse about "how silently how silently" the "blessings of... heav'n" are imparted.

oh, god, I'm remembering a version of that that I wrote in 2002, that started with "O little town of Bethlehem, the tanks are rolling by..." It included the line, "and in thy dark streets shineth the merciless searchlights." Yeesh.

Anyway.

Buddhism teaches us that "there is no hand to hold," no babysitter—nobody is coming to save us from ourselves or heal our broken world. The world is full of suffering and that's the way it is: we cannot escape it. If we are lucky enough to be born into a life free of poverty and executioners, we will get cancer or our child will be hit by a car. It seems so hard and cold, in comparison to the blazing light of a church at midnight mass, blazing with "the hopes and fears of all the years"...

And yet, I have found Buddhist teachings immensely useful in recent weeks, coping with all that Rebekah is going through; real reality is hard and cold and the imaginary babysitter is no match for it. And the teachings are not hard and cold at all. Human compassion, found in my own heart, is the only real healing and peace. Not just empty words: I have genuinely found that the instruction on how to access this healing and peace have been extremely useful in a realistic, solid way.

I may never call myself a Buddhist, because there always seems to be some extra belief required beyond the teachings on meditation and compassion... but those specific teachings of Buddhism have become extremely important to me.

And yet, when I hear the Christmas music I remember for a moment how it felt to long for (and believe in) salvation. "Nostalgia for samsara is shit." Indeed. But sometimes it smells so good.

---

Of course, Christmas music is also good for general childhood nostalgia.

My parents loved Christmas music and played it constantly... my favorite album from my childhood was "Christmas with the Trapp Family Singers." (not a hint to buy it for me; I already bought it for myself). That and Mario Lanza (who for years I thought was named Mari O'Lanza). "O Holy Night" has never sounded so spine-tinglingly glorious as it does in his rendition. I also remember Lanza hamming it up on the verses to "We Three Kings," especially the "myrrh" verse: "sorrowing, sighing, BLEE-ding, DIE-AY-AY-AAAYing..."

Now, we have to pause here for a story. My mom for some reason decided that Maria von Trapp (the real one, who bears very little resemblance of any kind whatsoever to Julie Andrews or to Andrews's character in "The Sound of Music") would be the most appropriate role model for me in life, so she read me her biography, her autobiography, and heaven knows what else to properly instill the values and perspectives of my chosen role model.

As a child I was a little sponge (or mirror), soaking up what was around me and sensing what people wanted from me and producing it obediently. I took this hero-worship to a degree my mother perhaps had not anticipated: I decided to "become" Maria von Trapp, memorizing all the details of her life; everyone had to call me "Maria" or "Frau von Trapp," and my conversation was replete with references to the biography of my alter ego. Other children had imaginary playmates; I never did, perhaps because I was my own imaginary playmate.

This ended when I saw Star Wars, after which I became Princess Leia, and thank god I did, because I'd much rather be a gun-toting attitudinous princess than a psychotically religious control-obsessed matriarch... *sigh* when I was a kid, we had feminist princesses, boys and girls!

---

Anyway, I'm digressing too much. I should just stop. I'm getting sort of sick of this post. My moment of nostalgia for anguished religiosity has passed; I'm gonna go pop out "Favorite Christmas Carols with the Westminster Abbey Choir" and put Bing Crosby back in. Then I'm gonna wake Loopy from her drugged slumber and we're gonna eat this kick-ass lasagna that Ang brought us (yay Ang!). Yup.... a good plan. :-)

Loopy-Loopy dialogue with special guest star

At the gym, as we were getting dressed (Loopy has permission to swim at last, yay!), a period of silence was broken when Loopy spoke...

Loopy: Be realistic!

Me: ... (confused pause) ... What?

Loopy: My walker keeps rolling away from me.

Me: ... (confused pause)... So... who were you talking to?

Loopy: My walker!

Me: ... (pause, light beginning to dawn) ... and what... ?

Loopy: It should be more realistic! It knows I can't walk that far to get it!

Loopy/extra-Loopy dialogue

Me: Lovey, wake up, it's time for your pills.

Loopy: Mmmmph.

Me: Lovey, wake up.

(pause)

Me: Wake up.

(pause)

Me: Lovey, wake up.

Loopy: Mmmmmmmrrrgggph.

Me: Are you awake? I don't wanna put the pills in your hand if you're not awake... there's a lot of them...

Loopy: (faintly) I'm.... awake...

(I put the pills in her hand)

Loopy: (faintly) I need.... water....

Me: I've got some ginger ale here... it's diet so it won't rot your teeth.*

Loopy: (takes a sip) (splutters) (really awake now) It's flat!

Me: It's just what I found in the living room, I'm sorry.

Loopy: In the ELEVATOR?

Me: (laughing) No, goofy, in the living room. (laughing) Yeah, I just found this in the elevator, so I thought I'd make you drink it.

Loopy: (laughing sleepily)

(pause)

Loopy: Now what?

Me: Now you take your pills!

Loopy: Where are they?

Me: In your hand, silly!

Loopy: Oh! (laughs, takes pills)

Me: This is going on the blog for sure!

Loopy-Loopy dialogue

Me (calling from our house): Hey Lovey, where's your ... [boring logistical discussion follows]

Me: So it's really nice to be home. I really miss it. Do you think we could maybe think about moving home soon?

Loopy: OK.

Me: I know you're scared, but maybe you're being affected by your memories of all the months when you were in so much pain and you were all alone so much of the time. It will be different now.

Loopy: Yeah, maybe.

Me: So, you know, I don't want to push you or anything, so if you're not ready that's okay, but maybe next time I come out here you could come with me, just see how it goes?

Loopy: Uh huh.

Me: You could try the stairs, and maybe it'll be like, "Whoa, this is impossible, not yet, no way," but maybe it'll be like, "Wow, this is nothing, I don't know what I was worried about."

Loopy: OK, yeah.

(pause)

Me: It's just really nice to be home.

(pause)

Me: Hello? Are you there?

Loopy: I'm sorry, I'm just trying to watch this really important show about how to make chocolate-dipped pretzels.

marie antoinette

just got back from the movie Marie Antoinette (first film w Loopy in months & months! yay us!)

anyway... many of you know that for a long time, for as long as I can remember, I have been convinced that the world as we know it is coming to an end within our lifetime. call me pessimistic or apocalyptic or crazy... I've always felt that way.

News about global warming just confirms this conviction... did you know that the Amazon rainforest (what's left of it) seems to be rapidly drying out and burning down, and may be a savanna within just a few years? Seriously. And when that happens it will kick off further events in a chain reaction of cataclysmic climate change.

I have long hoped or dreamed (with my "optimism of the will") that perhaps people could get together and plan how to wind down the machinery of capitalism and create something different... although the "pessimism of the intellect" tells me that it is far more likely—if you look at other catastrophes in history—that people will turn on each other, dividing along racial, ethnic, or some other lines, and begin killing each other. Who knows what will be left.

Anyway, watching the movie tonight, it struck me strongly that the hapless Marie Antoinette seems very much like us, collectively—Americans, Europeans, everyone.

We know that all is not well. We know that there are signs of profound trouble brewing, and yet, we aren't quite sure what to do about it, so we just keep doing what we've always done. We can't quite make ourselves believe that the threat is real, or that life will not always be exactly as it is now, with iPods and cars and Lands' End catalogs pouring in at Christmas.

Sleep tight, o fellow Versailles residents. The mob is not yet at the door.

powerlessness

Tonight Loopy was in pain again, so, since I had to go to the store anyway, I bought her:

• extra-strength tylenol (we just got the ok from the doc to use it to supplement her other meds)
• the National Enquirer (did you know Kevin was beating Britney??? "The Punching! The Slapping! The Story No One Else Has The Guts To Print!")
• an extension cord so she can plug in her computer and her heating pad at the same time
• our favorite low-cal/low-fat dessert, Klondike Slim-A-Bear ice cream bars

As I hauled them all out of the bag and piled them on the table she said, "oooh, you do love me!" and later, munching on the ice cream, she said, "oh, Lovey, Slim-A-Bear makes everything better!" I felt like the hero and my anxiety calmed down a little.

Yes, I've been feeling anxious. Anxious, guilty, and inadequate. Even though I'm rushing around all day—doing laundry, doing errands, getting things from stores and from home and organizing and setting up the new apartment—some days I literally couldn't do anything more than what I did—I've been feeling as though I'm not doing enough, that I'm screwing up, letting Loopy down.

This isn't total delusion. I've worked hard to be ready for our trip tomorrow, but it's already late and I still have to do the dishes, another load of laundry, take out the garbage, and pack. I'm doing my best and it's not good enough.

When I try to leave the apartment to do something for myself, I feel a thousand times more guilty. How on earth can I be so heartless as to leave Loopy alone, struggling from one room to another on her wobbly legs, stuck and frustrated when she can't make her reachers pick something up from the carpeting, or can't get her wheels over my shoes that I've left in the hall... How can I leave her in this situation just to do something purely selfish???

It should be emphasized that Loopy does nothing to promote this crazy way of thinking. She tells me I'm being silly, that these are just feelings, that she thinks I'm doing a great job, that I should take better care of myself, etc.

In the last 36 hours I've started to really try to take a look at this obsession with guiltiness, and am thinking it's nothing more than a huge struggle to avoid facing the horrifying powerlessness of this situation.

It's the same reasoning that makes children blame themselves for abuse, because the reality that they have NO CONTROL over the abusive situation is much, much scarier.

A random, rare illness with no known cause is also situation of total powerlessness. Sure, we can do our best under the circumstances, and sure it could be much much worse and thank goodness it isn't, but that doesn't change the fact that we've been blindsided by the universe.

Any situation of powerlessness is a reminder of our fragility, our vulnerability, and our ultimate inability to prevent our own death.

No wonder so many people respond to our situation with a dismissive, "I'm sure everything will be fine," and refuse to hear that Loopy may not fully recover. I don't argue with them, but it makes me feel alone.

I mean, maybe it will all be fine, and maybe it won't—and all the spunk and spirit and positive attitude in the world may not make any difference at all to those little nerves struggling to re-grow in Loopy's muscles.

Anyway. We're off to Loopy's sister's tomorrow, so I gotta pack. Hope you have a good Thanksgiving... ours will be memorable, that's for damn sure, thanks to Loopy's unintentional reunion with her estranged-for-decades mother. Maybe the National Enquirer will cover it...

changing frames of reference

1.

When I first moved here—I think I've blogged about before but—when I first moved here from the fashion capital of the universe, I was horrified to think, "Oh my god, in a couple years I'm going to get fat and start wearing tennis shoes all the time! I'll probably even use drugstore shampoo! And worst of all—I won't care!!!"

Needless to say, all those things happened...and indeed, not only do I not care, but I'm horrified at the shallow and silly creature I was back then. Hee hee.

---

2.

In February of 2001, the first birthday I spent in the Midwest, I wrote in an email, "We're going to Milwaukee for my birthday and I'm so excited!!!" After some reflection, I added, "Well now, that is definitely a sentence I never thought I'd utter in my entire life." Milwaukee continues to seem like a fun and happening place (great Mexican food for one thing!), and New York is sort of receding into the mists of myth and legend....

---

3.

"Oh, wow, this is SO COOL!!!!!!!" Loopy announced a few minutes ago.

"What?"

"The drink holder on my walker also snaps onto my wheelchair!"

"Wow! That is cool! Yay!"

---

In other words, we've adapted... it mostly seems normal, the walker, the wheelchair, etc. Loopy sleeping all the time seems temporary; the other stuff, who knows. It's all good.

Another change: Loopy was interested to see how people would treat her out in the world in her wheelchair, with her walker, etc.

When she was 100 pounds heavier, people looked past her or through her, as though embarrassed for her, unwilling to see her or acknowledge her existence. But in recent months, that had started to change. But, she had just started to get used to being visible when she became disabled. She was wondering how that would affect things.

My observation is that people are incredibly, incredibly nice. It's really quite amazing. It's sort of like the opposite of being invisible. Maybe I'll get tired of it after a while but so far, it's remarkably pleasant... like we've somehow shifted to an alternate universe of sweetness and light, where people say "excuse me" if they pass within four feet of you, and if you say, "oh, sorry," they say, "oh no no no, you're fine, you're fine!" And everyone gives you sweet, sweet smiles.

---

Tonight we are taking a break from the hard work of being a sick person and a caregiver, respectively, and watching an old favorite movie of ours, High Fidelity. We tried to make popcorn but we set the microwave on fire. Oh well.

home is where again?

just dropped by the house (the actual house, the one in the country, as opposed to the apartment in the city, as opposed to the apartment in town, as opposed to the hospital) to pick up some stuff.

i have a lot of emotions being here. i miss the dogs. i miss our life.

but the life before Loopy was in so much pain all the time, that's a long time ago at this point. i feel like I can hardly remember it. recent life in this house was dark and claustrophobic, as if fogged over with Loopy's ongoing struggle.

and before that there was my ongoing struggle, to finish my certification, to get my life together.

so the house has a lot of emotional "stuff" packed into its walls and furnishings.

it also has a lot of physical stuff packed into its closets and corners. my next project was to clear all that out. i was just getting going on agonizing over that...so i feel like i got a "get out of jail free" pass because i don't have to worry about it right now. but i also feel like it's hanging over my head; as soon as we come back here i have to take care of it. i feel defeated before i start. in comparison the apartment feels fresh, a clean slate. if also barren.

there was one thing i wanted to record about my last visit here, which was the night before Loopy's surgery. i had been wondering what people do, who don't pray. i wanted to ask someone or something for help with the feelings, for help making the surgery turn out ok. we all want desperately to be able to control what we can't control. but i believe we do better admitting our lack of control than trying to pretend that we can ask for supernatural assistance.

i planted some Persian blue alliums in the garden that night, a gift for Loopy to enjoy in the spring. there were so many feelings as I prepared the earth and pressed the bulbs into the soil, racing against the gathering darkness that--just a few days after daylight savings time--came so much earlier than I expected.

as i replaced the soil and watered them in i felt a sense of satisfaction. somehow just planting the bulbs felt like my prayer; it was a gesture of hope. planting anything is a gesture of hope. they are under there, hopefully doing whatever they're supposed to be doing at this time of year, but we have no way of knowing if they are or not. we just hope they will come up in the spring, hope that they will bloom into the sweet air of a better time than now.

email update: post-surgery

I remember when the surgeon came out to talk to us, I jumped up in a such a hurry to get to him that I fell over a table. lol. Here's the email:

Everything went well, and she's awake and moving around and talking to the doctor. Yay!

Here are the things that we were worried about & their outcome (all positive) -

• paraplegia (temporary or permanent) ? - nope! - moving her legs and feet just fine!
  
• malignant tumor ? - nope! - it's one of two kinds of benign tumors; they will be more precise about the type in 3-4 days.
  
• incomplete resection ? - nope! - (the surgeon said if it was stuck to other things that couldn't be cut (arteries, primary nerves) he would have to leave a piece of the tumor, so she would need radiation to keep it from growing back. But that didn't happen. As I understand it there will be no need for chemo or radiation).
  
• remove part of the dura ? - nope! - (the surgeon said that if the tumor was attached to the dura (the hard sheath that protects the spinal cord) he might have to remove a piece of the dura, which would require a patch, which could lead to a leak of spinal fluid and more surgery, etc. But that didn't happen either).

More good news - they had her hooked up to all kinds of monitoring equipment to test electric signals from her brain through her nerves to her feet and hands - this was primarily to prevent cutting any important nerves. But because of the monitoring they were able to see that, as soon as they got the tumor out, the nerve signals on her right side bounced back immediately. The surgeon said that that might not translate to improved function right away, but it's a very good sign.

Yay for Dr. K____! Yay for Loopy! (that's what I call her :-) ) Yay all around!

Four friends came to sit in the surgery waiting room with me (and with each other, as they are all dear friends of [Loopy]’s and were plenty worried in their own right). I made them do "the wave" after we heard the news. :-)

This morning before [Loopy] went into surgery we talked about how we both feel ready for the next phase, whatever it holds, and we'll get through it together. Now that we know it looks very positive, I'm even more cheerful about it. The surgeon confirmed that the prognosis is still 4-6 weeks to regain many functions, and 4-6 months to be fully back to normal. I will keep on keeping you posted.

I'm so grateful for all your support. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It means a lot to know that your thoughts are with us.

Love
[me]

email update: mid-surgery

Sitting here with several friends in the surgery waiting room. We just got a call from the OR to say that everything is going really well and "the patient" our dear [Loopy] is doing really well. I didn't feel too nervous until the call came and I realized how much I felt relieved. They promised they would call out every couple hours to let us know how it's going, but I didn't really believe they would (that has never been my experience of surgery waiting rooms!) But they did!

This morning, the surgeon told us "we have a great team!" and he looked really happy about it (he told us a few days ago that he would be assigned a senior resident to help with the actual surgery, because he needs to work on both sides of the table at the same time--so I'm assuming that he means he got a resident he likes and works well with, as well as other good people).

Also, both the surgeon and one of the nurses told us we got one of the best anaesthesiologists, which is very encouraging; [Loopy] sometimes has trouble with anaesthesia (specifically, regaining consciousness during the operation!) and this was very reassuring for her so she could go into the procedure calmly. After all, she doesn't have to do anything else at this point--as the surgeon said, with a smile, "All you have to do now is go to sleep. We'll see you tomorrow." Dr. K___ really is a gem. He came to see her almost every day, sometimes more than once a day, since she checked in last Friday, always acting like he had all the time in the world to listen to her and pay attention to everything she had to say.

She was in quite a bit of pain as she left to go into the OR (we were allowed into the pre-op area with her, which was wonderful) which I think put us all ([Loopy], her friend, and myself) in the mood of feeling glad that this particular phase will soon be over. The pain henceforth should be a lot less, and also more familiar to the nursing staff and therefore much more manageable. We don't know what else we'll be dealing with or how the recovery will go, but at least the months and months of ongoing, mysterious, intractable pain are most likely at an end.

Well, I"ll keep you posted. [Loopy’s sister], can you please call me at [number] with your work phone number? I realize I don't have it and I want to call you first when she is all done.

Thanks again for your good wishes and other support. It is wonderful to know you all and to be related to most of you. :-)

Love
[me]

email update: night before the surgery

So, after a quiet weekend there was an acute episode early Monday, so the pain doctor was summoned and put [Loopy] on a new medication, which made a dramatic difference. Her pain is caused by nerve constriction rather than the usual sources of pain (inflammation, swelling, bruising, broken things, etc) so the spasmodic firing of nerves is more like a seizure than like those other kinds of pain. So they put her on a seizure medication, neurontin, as well as doubling the morphine. Last night she finally got a solid night's sleep (five hours and then two more) and her usual morning misery was much shorter and less intense than usual.

So, tomorrow's the big day. Typically, they just finished all the prep a few minutes ago, giving [Loopy] only about four hours to sleep before the surgery, but she did have a nap this afternoon. Her friends had a party for her in her room with lots of wonderful food (the nurses' station appreciated the leftovers!) and her friends also have set up a schedule of people to sit with me during the surgery, which I greatly appreciate (so I kept all the dessert-y leftovers to reward you with!)(And yes, Miri, you're on the schedule :-) )

Several people have asked about the schedule for tomorrow. [Loopy] will go into pre-op at 6 am to be ready for 7:30 am surgery.

6 am in Wisconsin =
5 am in Arizona
4 am in California
noon in the UK
1 pm in Europe
9pm in Japan.

The surgery should take about four to six hours; the doctor said he would come and find me sometime between 12 and 2pm. After a couple hours in the recovery room, she will move to an ICU for safety's sake at least overnight. After my Mom was in an ICU in August I have grown to love the ICU... it feels so *safe.*

Unfortunately I won't be able to sleep in the room with her in the ICU (did I mention that since we moved to "neuro" I have an actual bed--like the one in a hotel that they wheel in for the extra guest? And I thought the chair-bed in "cardio" was cool!!)

But there are lots of places nearby where people sleep--I've seen them every night on couches in waiting areas and other nooks and crannies, and the nurses bring sheets and blankets and pillows so they look very comfy. So I will do that too at least for the first couple nights.

People were telling me to go home and not sleep here at the hospital because they thought that would be taking better care of myself, but as it turns out, I get a lot more sleep here than at home--I'm a lot happier here, and I'm around when she needs anything I'm right there (although we agreed after the first night that I would not get up in the night but rather let the nurses take care of her).

Also, the thing is that her worst times are always early in the morning, and I'm just not enough of a morning person to get up and drive here that early. I do get out during the day and go to the gym, go for walks, go out to eat (and bring back yummy stuff!), but I just am too sad and lonely to be

So anyway, about tomorrow: I've said before, the prognosis is very good, but the surgery is very delicate, but the surgeon is excellent. So we are cautiously optimistic, though that doesn't stop me from worrying. :-)

I will certainly keep everyone updated, and I have *so* appreciated your supportive emails and messages even though I haven't been able to respond to each one. It really helps. Thank you.

More amusing notes: her nurse today is Nurse Slaughter (seriously), and we've collected another name for our surgeon Dr. K___ (aka Dr. Coo and Dr. Cow): Dr. Coo-Woe.

Take care all... I feel like left out some crucial bitof information... but what was it.I'm too tired to think of it right now.

love
[me]

home sweet hospital

When I was a kid I had a super-cheesy plaque in my room with the super-cheesy proverb "home is where the heart is."

But I find the proverb increasingly less cheesy, as the hospital starts to feel like home. I return to it late at night, its signage familiar and welcoming, its sounds and procedures reassuring. I wasn't able to sleep at a friend's house, and last night at our house I just felt edgy and sad, but here on the fold-up bed next to Loopy, I feel at peace and ready for rest.

There's something else I like about it: the hospital is utterly devoid of the world's usual pretense that "everything is okay" and if you just ________ it will all turn out all right (fill in the blank with the appropriate cultural, religious, familial or advertising-slogan admonitions). You can see in almost every face you pass--the profound awareness of the randomness of life, the pain and confusion of being human, and the total lack of control that we have over some of the things that affect us most. This awareness has a million flavors--resignation, determination, bewilderment, bitterness, etc. But when you see it over and over the core of it sort of distills out....

On a more prosaic note, neuro is a stranger unit that cardiac. Next door is an older (but not elderly) man who seems to have regressed to near-infancy. He spends his time sorting colored blocks and piteously protesting any attempt to feed him, take his temperature, etc. Loopy's nurse remarked today that Loopy is an unusual patient for the neurosciences unit. "She walks, she talks, she doesn't play with her poop..." Another reminder that it could be a whole lot worse.

email update: surgery scheduled, more info

So, I'll try to reconstruct some of what I accidentally deleted last night.

First, a clarification: [Loopy] is staying in the hospital for another week at least. She is not moving to rehab tomorrow (today) but rather, *next* Monday, four days after the surgery.

And, minor news: a bed opened in the neurology unit so [Loopy] has been moved (she was parked in cardiac over the weekend); the new room number is ____, but I don't know if there's any point in trying to keep up with the numbers, since she'll be in one to two more different beds after the surgery. The room is slightly smaller but laid out better (i.e., you don't have to move every single piece of furniture in order to allow a person with walker and IV to get from the bathroom to the sink). Plus, [Loopy] says it's less tiring to not have to walk so far [to the bathroom and sink], so that's good.

People have asked how I'm holding up (thank you for your kind support!) Well, I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday (Sat) because the surgeon listed all the terrible things that could possibly go wrong and it was just a bit overwhelming; this morning, we pressed him for estimates of the likelihood of each of these terrible things and were reassured that all of them are pretty unlikely, so I've regained some semblance of rationality. :-)

The only negative thing that's likely post-surgery is a continuation--and perhaps temporary worsening--of her current problems with using and feeling her legs, to be addressed by lots o' PT. During the surgery they have to manipulate the spinal cord somewhat and it can become bruised, and while it's recovering her legs could be weaker or even paralyzed, for a period of weeks to a month or more. So we all should prepare ourselves for that possibility.

It's also possible that there will be some permanent deficits, but those are more likely to be sensory rather than motor, so PT will involve not so much learning to walk, but rather, learning how to walk without tripping over numb feet.

The PT person advised that when [Loopy] first comes home she should not try to go up and down stairs, so we will be setting up the upstairs of our house so she can basically live there. (We have considered and rejected the main level and the basement for various reasons, primarily that she wants to sleep in her own bed). We hope that visitors will be willing to trek out here, since she will undoubtedly start to get a little stir crazy in the winter months!

(With all that in mind I am trying very hard to take the advice of people who are urging me to rest a lot now, because I will be working hard once she comes home. It's hard to let go of wanting to take care of her myself all the time, but I'm doing my best - sleeping at home tonight, for example.)

So overall, there is a balance of promising and disappointing information. On the "plus" side, the long-term prognosis is very good, as I described yesterday, and very importantly, the pain should be gone immediately as soon as the tumor is removed (there will be pain from the surgery itself, but that should not be anywhere near as bad as what she's been going through). On the other hand, recovery will be a slow process and a lot of hard work.

The other thing I think I described in yesterday's deleted mail is that the surgeon, Dr. K___, is the top tumor neurosurgeon at the UW hospitals. He has his BA and MD from Harvard, a PhD from MIT, and spent a number of years teaching at USC; he's now the head of the brain tumor program at the UW and a prof of neurosurgery. (He also was a pre-med tutor in Lowell House when we were there! He actually looks pretty familiar, which is slightly odd but also irrationally comforting).

And I'll close on a humorous note... here in smallish-town midwest, nobody can pronounce the name "Dr. K____" [Chinese surname]. He has been referred to as "Dr. Cow" and "Dr. Coo," for example. For a while we actually thought that [Loopy] had two doctors named Dr. [real name] and Dr. Cow, but that highly amusing situation did not turn out to be the case.

[Loopy] greatly appreciates calls and visits. Don't be surprised to find her a bit groggy, but otherwise she's generally in fine spirits.

Love to all
[me]

pronoun problems

It has been bothering me that I have been having pronoun trouble lately, especially since we checked into the hospital Friday night (and that's not really a misuse of the pronoun, since I've been sleeping there too--not tonight tho, the foldy bed is surprisngly comfortable but I've gotta sleep in a real bed!).

In trying to talk to the nurses about what's up with Loopy I keep saying "we" all the time when "she" would be more accurate. ("We went to the doctor," "We had an MRI," etc.) I've been worrying that it's a sign of mental unhealthiness--poor boundaries or codependence or something.

Well, I feel much better now that Loopy has recorded the following in her blog: "it's only been four days since we even knew we had a tumor." I don't think I've ever gone so far as to claim any part of the actual tumor, so I feel that she has herewith taken the cake in the prounoun-confusion department, and I don't need to worry about it anymore.

email update: surgery scheduled

dang it all..... i just deleted the thing i spent 45 minutes typing
out. shoot. i will try again tomorrow.

surgery is thursday, doctor is great, she will prob'ly be released
monday, either to home or to a rehab facility depending on how she's
doing. she'll have to do a lot of PT and OT but should be back to many
of her usual activities (including swimming & some driving) in 4-6
weeks; if all goes well she'll be back to normal (including commuting
to her field research in Chicago) in 4-6 months. which compared to a
lifetime of managing MS is not so bad.

more tomorrow
love
[me]

email update: geting into the hospital... another story

an email sent late that night, from the hospital:

I hurriedly sent out an email earlier that went to a somewhat haphazard assortment of people, so I'll repeat myself a little for those who were accidentally omitted.

This morning we called [Loopy]'s primary care person because the pain was really bad, and since this is the third such call this week, she advised us that we really should just go to the ER and try to get her admitted to the hospital for proper pain control. We called the neurosurgeon's office and the nurse there said the same thing, so we packed and came in.

As we were packing I noticed that [Loopy] has gotten more wobbly and unsteady, and I think both of us have had a growing fear that she would fall again and really hurt herself (heaven forbid she should fall down the stairs!) or fall and not be able to get back up, and even tho she's lost more than 100 pounds in the last year, I still can't lift her! Seeing her wobbling, I became more determined to get her admitted.

The ER was a bit of an ordeal as it always is, but we persevered and insisted that she was not safe or comfortable at home. At our lowest moment I called a friend who quickly brought a wonderful dinner and absorbing gossip (thank you thank you!), and who I felt could help back us up if it really came to a fight to get her in. Fortunately, shortly after she was finally admitted to the hospital.

Now she is safely in a very nice room, private even, with wonderful nurses and a morphine pump. The pain is not bad but not totally controlled either, but they're working on it, and she doesn't have to go up and down stairs, and we both feel a lot safer and relieved of a lot of worry.

Also, in the ER we were able to talk to a resident who works with the neurosurgeon who will do [Loopy]’s surgery, and he said the surgeon said they will try to get the surgery scheduled for this week so she can just stay here until the surgery. That would be ideal.

For local folks or anyone sending anything, she's in [room number] at [hospital] - you enter in the clinics entrance from the parking garage, find the D elevator, go up to the fifth floor, and she's just a few steps from the elevator. She has a phone in her room but our cell phones work fine so just use those—[number] for me and [number] for her.

Thanks so much for all your good wishes earlier. I felt a bit desperate and panicked but now I feel much better and I think [Loopy] does too.

Will keep you posted. THere are just a few of you on this list that didn't ask to be kept posted, that I think might not have seen the message yet, but I'll drop you off the detailed updates if I don't hear otherwise, so don't worry that you'll be inundated.

Also I have gotten behind on thanking each person individually for their messages but please rest assured that your words are SO appreciated.

Love to all
[me]

email update: leaving for the hospital

two years later, i'm going back and weaving the emails i sent to family and friends into the story. emails (all added later) will be marked as such; blog posts written at the time, will appear as they always did, with no special marker. this way i'll have a full record in one place...

here's the email I sent to people as we left the house:

taking [Loopy] to the ER on the advice of her doctors, as we can't control the pain and the other symptoms are worsening. they may send her home but anyway, all contributions are welcome, as [Amerina's mother] would say--prayers, white light, positive thoughts... well... no animal sacrifices please but anything else... :-) will let local folks know
as more concrete needs arise.

thanks for being there, this is really a nightmare.

love
[me]

referred pain

so the reason they took so long to find Loopy's "mass" (i.e., tumor) is that it is much higher than her pain. pain often refers downwards... (as more and more of us no doubt are starting to learn as we all get older!). the doctor said it was just barely above the area scanned in the first MRI... just pure bad luck.

---

many years ago i read Daughters, by Paule Marshall, a wonderful wonderful book that I highly recommend. most of her characters are Caribbeans of African descent, but one of the few white characters is a sort of do-gooder who travels all over the world helping people. at the end of the book he turns out to have been abused as a child, and it is explained that he was searching for a vicarious outlet for his own pain. now, of course, people help others for many different reasons, but this really struck a chord in me and started me thinking in many ways that have been very fruitful...

certainly, helping others out of a need to displace my own pain, is not nearly so positive, effective, satisfying and genuine as helping others from genuine empathy, which I've only learned to feel in the last decade or so....

---

tonight as i drove home i thought about the fact that for some reason, after our garbage was emptied yesterday, someone (either the workers or some passer-by) turned the can upside down and left the lid lying nearby. this is weird and i've never seen it before, on my verge or anyone else's. i started wondering if neighbor kids were pulling some kind of prank (these are the kids who kept stealing our mailbox, which is why we now have a P.O. box). suddenly i became convinced that there was something truly awful and horrifying under the garbage can, and became really terrified of lifting it up.

it's been so long since i've had such a stark fear of something so obviously imaginary, that it stopped me in my tracks and seemed very clear that i was really afraid of something else. i asked myself what, precisely, i thought was under that can. some awful thing... some bloodied, broken thing... a dead thing.

i had to smile. not very subtle, eh. ok, so, i'm afraid of death, Loopy's of course, but i put it under the garbage can instead. *sigh*

still i drove past it and left it there. i'll lift it up in the daylight...

Loopy-Loopy dialogue #74,438

I googled "intradural extramedullary" (see below) and it called it a "mass" rather than a tumor.

Me: Loopy, it's not a tumor, it's a mass.

Loopy: A mass? A mass of what?

Me (thinking of an episode of Blackadder* that I watched with Nadine a million years ago): Maybe it's an oppressed mass.

Loopy: I have The People in my back.

Stay tuned for more humor that's only funny to us!

---

*transcript for your edification:

Edmund (to Prince George): ...Next week is your royal father's birthday celebrations. I suggest that I write a brilliant speech for you to recite to show the oppressed masses how unusually sensitive you are.

Prince George: Well, tell me about these "oppressed masses", what are they so worked up about?

Edmund: They're worked up, sir, because they're so poor, they're forced to have children simply to provide a cheap alternative to turkey at Christmas. Disease and depravation stalk our land like.. two giant.. stalking things. And the working man is poised to overthrow us.

(Baldrick enters carrying a mop.)

Prince George: Oh my God, and here he is!

Edmund: Don't be silly, sir. That's Baldrick, my dogsbody.

Prince George: What's silly about that? He looks like an oppressed mass to me. Get him out of here at once!

going somewhere else instead

Loopy had another MRI last night and the doctor called immediately to say that she needs surgery ASAP. Apparently she has a tumor in the soft tissue of her spinal canal--it's an intradural extramedullary tumor, if you want to look it up. :-)

He said there are no guarantees, but he sees one or two things like this every year and most of the time they are benign, and just removing them clears up the symptoms and then everything will be fine. So, the outlook is fairly positive.

When he first called he just said it was a tumor in the spine, and we were more scared because there are several kinds of tumors, and some of them are malignant and some are metastases from other tumors in the lung, breast, or brain. But it looks like it's not any of those. Most likely anyway.

She has a Tuesday appointment with a neurosurgeon, who incidentally attended the same undergraduate institution as I did, graduating in 1989, so for a year we were there at the same time. I find this comforting and I find it odd that I find it comforting. It's as if he's an old friend. Even though there were plenty of people there that I hated. :-P He got his MD from the same place and has a PhD from MIT, did a stint at USC and is the head of the brain tumor program at the UW. He also teaches neurosurgery; they say get a teacher, that's the best because they're up-to-date. So that's good.

So the Iran trip is off. Part of me never believed I was going, and most of me really wanted to stay here with Loopy and take care of her, especially as she's been getting worse and worse every day. :-(

Now, if only the part of me that wanted to stay and take care of her had taken out some kind of travel insurance, things would be even rosier. But at the moment I don't really care. Iran will always be there, but I only have one Loopy, as one friend said this morning. :-)

Now we're contemplating what to do tonight; I'm thinking I'll run down to our local bait/ammo/liquor/video store (yes, we live in a VERY small town; the other major retail establishment is the hardware store & taxidermist) and get some DVDs to cheer us up. :-)

on a more cheerful, or perhaps macabre, note

Loopy on the phone to her sister, overheard....

"So the next thing is I have to have an MRI on my brain to see if I have any illusions."

(I know she said "lesions," but wouldn't it be funny if you could get an MRI to see if you had any illusions?)

(Ok, maybe it's just funny if "lesions" has become a normal part of your daily vocabulary... never mind).

what is the weather like?

i set up an RSS feed for the weather reports from four cities I'll be spending the most time in in Iran... the weather reports come in regularly and i scan them obsessively, trying to make sense of the information....

i realize that i'm trying to predict the future, trying to be Fully Prepared, trying to defend myself against the unknown. i don't know how to dress in that climate and under those dress code laws. i'm afraid i'll be hot and sweaty and stink; i'm afraid i'll be cold and miserable and get sick. i'm afraid, i'm afraid, i'm afraid. it's a theme of my life.

it could be a trip to Iran or to Madison, to the post office here in our small town--anything can kick off that anxiety--what if i don't bring the right things, what if i forget something, what if my back hurts, what if i'm hungry and there's nothing to eat.

huh. i guess it's kind of obvious why this makes me late. on some level i'm afraid to leave home because what if i have a need and it's not filled?

i know what my (baby beginner) buddhist training says to this, but for once, i feel that it's perhaps kinder to me to tell those voices to be quiet and just have some compassion for this profound anxiety that makes all my bones hurt.

when i write that i start to cry.

Eşfahān, IRN - Weather via MSN Weather Current Conditions (as of 4:20 PM) Mostly Cloudy. Temp: 73F (Feels like 73). Humidity: 25% Winds: 7 mph SW. All times shown are local to Eşfahān, IRN. Today: Cloudy. Lo: 50F. Hi: 76F. Chance of precipitation: 40% Tomorrow: Mostly Cloudy. Lo: 46F. Hi: 73F. Chance of precipitation: 30% Tuesday: Cloudy. Lo: 44F. Hi: 68F. Chance of precipitation: 75% Wednesday: Clear. Lo: 45F. Hi: 74F. Chance of precipitation: 45% Thursday: Fair. Lo: 46F. Hi: 74F. Chance of precipitation: 20% More information at MSN Weather (Powered by Foreca)

some heavy stuff

So, I want to go to sleep here so I won't write much... but... as we run the gauntlet of doctor's visits, tests, treatments, and multiple trips to the pharmacy for all manner of pills and potions, it starts to seem to the doctors that Loopy's main problem is not her back.

The numbness in her feet has spread up her legs to her hips, and now her legs feel weak and shaky a lot of the time, and she has trouble picking up her feet all the way when walking. I've been walking alongside her mostly and catching her when she trips, but tonight she tried to navigate the gym on her own and fell full length on the concrete by the pool. We joke about it ("that mean bad concrete came up and whapped me in the face!") but it sucks.

So the spine specialist seems to be giving up and sending her back to the primary doctor to look for another source of the problem. The primary doctor says she's starting to suspect it could be MS. This was kind of a shock for me but Loopy said she's been suspecting it for a while.

I didn't post on here after first hearing that (which was, uh, Monday), because I thought she was going to have a test on Wednesday that would clarify the situation, but it turned out that that wasn't that test. So we're still in limbo and it starts to seem like we'll be here for a while. So we're sort of settling in to manage the symptoms and navigate the system.

In case it's not obvious, don't mention this to anyone in her department (aside from the friends who read this blog). If she does get the MS diagnosis (or some other diagnosis) she will then be able to figure out how to deal with it in career terms.

I have to say that as diagnoses go, while MS would suck, a lot, it's not as scary as some other possibilities. Worst case scenario would be a brain tumor, but as the doctor says, let's not go there yet—that's several steps down the line. Diabetes and leukemia have already been ruled out and I'm happy about that. The really nasty auto-immune disorders like lupus and ALS have not been totally ruled out, but according to the doctor, a particular blood test result makes them somewhat unlikely.

One thing that would be worse than MS (in my perhaps ill-informed opinion) would be one of those awful debilitating syndromes that half the doctors don't believe exists—like fibromyalgia, Epstein-Barr, chronic fatigue, etc. At least MS is visible on an MRI and therefore "respectable." (Here I am blowing a big kiss to our friend J who soldiers on with fibromyalgia despite the attitude of some in the medical profession, and is even now cutting her second album!)

As this little discourse makes clear we are adjusting to this new space, of tests and diagnoses, and not knowing, and waiting to see what happens next. We cherish each other and are so grateful that OLIF helped us get our marriage into such a good place before this happened.

In this context I thought a lot about cancelling my trip to Iran and basically I really wanted to, still want to, a little—it kills me to think she'll be carrying on with this process, the doctors and tests and so on, while I'm half a world away—that I won't be here for her and with her at such a crucial time.

But, OLIF, Loopy, and Loopy's doctor all urge me to go, as I will no doubt enjoy it and find it restorative and wonderful, and may not have another opportunity, who knows. Our wonderful, wonderful friend Miri has agreed to stay here and chauffeur Loopy around in exchange for the use of the car to go see Miri's new not-yet-a-boyfriend (keep us posted!) in Milwaukee on weekends. So Loopy will be safe and cared for. Just not by me.

"I feel like I'm abandoning you and letting you down," I say.

"Those are just your feelings. I don't feel that way at all," she says.

So I feel a bit as though the trip is sort of a river that's sweeping me along willy-nilly.... I rededicate myself to learning Farsi and seriously commit to getting the house etc in order for my absence.

*sigh*

modest Barbie*

So in preparation for going to Iran, at first I was focused on learning to speak Farsi and trying to memorize the extremely complicated history (despite its geography, the area now encompassed by Iran seems to have spent most of history belonging to two or three separate empires which periodically conquered each other).

But as the actual trip approaches I've become more and more obsessed with figuring out what to wear. At left: my visa photo!

In photos I've seen of women in Tehran, they have their scarves way back on their heads (perhaps a political as well as fashion statement). They look elegant and suave and I have no idea how those scarves stay on there. (Look at that photo at right! How do they do that???? For me, it would take a hundered bobby pins to make anything stay at that angle!)**

Meanwhile, in photos of foreigners in Iran, the women always look makeshift and ridiculous. At first my search for things to wear was based on not looking ridiculous.

"I don't need to make a statement with my clothes," I reasoned. "If something more conservative is easier to wear and looks better, I don't mind looking more conservative." See photo below left--that thing's not coming off--no way, no worries!*** But as I googled more and more the political import started to feel unavoidable and now I don't know what I think....



Also, the concern with not looking ridiculous started to be superseded by several practical questions, such as the scarf question above, and perhaps most importantly, how do you dress in layers for changeable autumn weather (low 45/high 85) if you can't take off the layer that comes down to your knees?

(I mean, if your long layer is a coat and you have a wool sweater underneath, you can't take off the coat to remove the sweater. So if you make the long layer something that goes under the sweater, what is it? And do you wear the same one every day, in which case you have to wear something else under it (more layers, ack!) or do you buy a different one for every day and at the end are left with a stack of tunics or something silly like that?)

What was interesting was that as I googled around looking at all the things I could wear, and as I started to think within the "logic" of the system--about when and how I would be able to adjust how many layers I was wearing--I was really struck by the fact that you're covering up skin as though protecting it from biting wind or cold or something....but actually you're just protecting it from a maelstrom of dangerous eyes...

And as I kept googling I came across all kinds of things....

Here are some instructions for putting on the three most common types of headwear, which cleared up a lot of mysteries for me. (The short answer: pins).

Here is a swimsuit.... not guaranteed by any clerical source, but I can't imagine how it could not be acceptable; what else could possibly be covered??

And, articles written by women about bravely flouting the dress code in Iran and about deepening your faith through covering up....

History? What history? And I haven't looked at my Farsi flash cards in days. Clearly my priorities are sliding totally askew.

And finally, my mother's contribution to this endeavor:



"So in case you get totally fed up with the scarf, I sent you a baklava that you can wear instead..."

"Ma, if I wore a baklava on my head, honeyed syrup would get in my eyes."

"You know what I mean [anyone else's mother would have added, "Ms. Smarty-pants"]. I sent you one because I know my hair is so slippery I would never be able to get the scarf to stay on."

Thanks Mom.... I think I'll have to be pretty desperate to wear this.... but I'll take it along because, after all, you never know. Those eyeball-maelstroms can be pretty fierce after all..

---

* Title is a reference to this news story which infuriated Loopy at the time and still does.
** Photo of women looking up is by Azadeh Asaran on Flickr
*** Photo of woman in white is by Hamed Saber on Flickr.

tenterhooks

waiting waiting waiting to hear about the job... it's driving me nuts, i haven't been able to sleep, my shoulder is cramping up, i feel depressed as though i've already been rejected...

as i told Nadine earlier via IM (now that she's moved to Singapore, our schedules are much more in sync than they were when she was in Seattle! I'm hanging out in the evening while her daughter has a late morning nap, so, IMing galore! go figure!)...

i brought in a big bundle of anxieties to OLIF (therapist) and asked him to make me feel better, and he basically said, "you're not supposed to feel better, you're feeling what you're feeling--you're doing great! keep it up!"

what a concept.

he also advised me to take good care of myself, that it's a difficult time.

so with all this in mind, i almost started to feel oddly cheerful and carefree in a weird way. i had lunch with a new friend and then wandered through a sort of semi-new-age bookstore, where I picked up a book of 101 lesbian sexual positions (who knew that they sold that kind of thing at the new age bookstore??) and a book by one of my favorite Buddhist authors, Cheri Huber--The Fear Book. (I already have The Depression Book--good stuff!)

Here's what Cheri says about fear on the very first page:

Fear is not what you think it is.

Fear is not who you are underneath your facade. Fear is not the real you that you must somehow fix or improve or overcome.

Fear is a very useful signal along the path to freedom. The stronger the fear, the closer you are to what you are seeking. If you want to stay "safe" (i.e., stuck where you are), fear tells you to stop what you are doing. But if you want to be free, fear lets you know you are on the right track, it is a signal to push ahead in the same direction, to pick up the pace.

That might as well have been written directly in repsonse to my anxieties of this week ..... and when OLIF and Cheri Huber agree, there's nothing to do but submit.

hamster wheel, a.k.a. samsara

so, second interview today.

talked to OLIF (therapist) three, maybe four times yesterday. he kept telling me to stop compulsively revising & printing out more lesson plans, and instead, to meditate, exercise, go to bed on time, get up on time, and be relaxed, rested, and fully present for the interview.

i didn't listen.

i printed out a stack of lesson plans about two inches thick, complete with cover sheets and various introductory notes. i stayed up til 2 am doing this (after promising OLIF at 11 that I would be in bed within 10 mintues). i was almost late to the interview. i was stressed and wired and tired. i wasn't "fully present."

i don't think i blew it—three-quarters of me is still not half bad, and i think it would take a lot to undermine the positive impression of the first interview. plus, i caught a glimpse of another interviewee and she looked about twelve years old.

but still. it could have been so much better. i'm having trouble letting go of all the feelings this conjures up, even though i know rationally it's not a big deal.

there's a lot more to obsess about, but, lucky for you, i'm too exhausted by all the obsessing to write it all down here.

on the plus side, i asked my potential new boss if she would mind if I went to Iran, and she was like, heck no, please go—we'll all benefit from it. and, on the same day, my visa came through. so now i'm really going. i'm kind of scared now that it's really gonna happen. don't tell Loopy though.

Loopy's back was really really bad today. on the plus side, a friend has said she'll consider staying with Loopy while I'm in Iran if the back situation doesn't improve. which is a load off my mind, or will be if she decides to do it (no pressure, o friend! ;-) ).

and some bad news...

Loopy's back is really bad again. I hate that she's in so much pain and I can't do anything about it. It's crushingly disappointing that Thursday's procedure has not yet produced a miraculous recovery. They said it could take two to five days for results to become apparent... it's only been three days, so, it could still happen. But after the little blip of hope on Friday it's even more depressing and seems even more endless.

"bulldog" mix on my ipod

"Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?"

- "Lose Yourself," Eminem


"I get knocked down, but I get up again
you're never gonna keep me down..."
- "Tubthumping," Chumbawumba


"As long as i know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I'll survive
I will survive"
- "I will survive," Gloria Gaynor


"They say in Harlan County there are no neutrals there
You'll either be a union man or a thug for J.H. Blair.
Which side are you on?"
- "Which Side Are You On?" Florence Reece (sung by Pete Seeger)


"People people let’s start together let’s do it right now,
People people let’s love one another I know we know how."
- "Migra," Santana


I put this mix on to encourage me and make me feel tough and ready, as I panic about the interview tomorrow and try to get my materials ready for it. (Why isn't "Eye of the Tiger" on here?)

But, as I type the Eminem lyrics, I consider that, from a Buddhist perspective, buying into hope means buying into fear.

The idea that this is "the best job ever," and the desperate hope to land it, just creates the illusion that if I don't get it, it's all over. This isn't really true at all, nor is it the sanest or most helpful approach.

Maybe that's why I put Tracy Chapman's "Heaven's Here on Earth" on this mix.

"We are the spirit the collective conscience
We create the pain and the suffering and the beauty in this world

Heaven's here on earth
In our faith in humankind
In our respect for what is earthly
In our unfaltering belief in peace and love and understanding

Look around
Believe in what you see
The kingdom is at hand
The promised land is at your feet...."

And as the other songs rotate through I realize that all but the Eminem song really do convey a bigger perspective that is as applicable to getting the job as to not getting it.

If I don't get the job, "I will survive," "I get up again," I'm still on the "right" side of the fight, and "the promised land" is still at my feet.

The anxiety drains away as I feel that I will be okay either way. Back to work.

and the good news continues!

so before I even had a chance to blog about how great my interview went yesterday, they called me back for a second interview! monday at 10 am! and this time I'm supposed to bring some lesson plans and stuff like that! I'm so excited!

so this is kind of anti-climactic, but, by the way, my interview went great yesterday. :-)

The oddest thing is that it was really, really fun! I know, right, whoever heard of an interview being fun? For one thing, I made jokes and they loved them. One of the questions was, "how do you motivate students to work beyond their comfort level?" Totally deadpan, I responded, "I threaten them with corporal punishment." The guy who asked the question broke into a huge grin and said, "all right, all right!" in a great Southern accent, and they made some comments to each other about how I would fit right in.

They asked when I could start and I said, "tomorrow." "How about yesterday?" was the response. Again, deadpan, I said, "oh, no, I'm busy yesterday." They loved that too.

The coolest thing is that everyone I've met from this place just seems totally, totally cool. Completely right-on. I've immediately liked everyone I met. They all seem totally without pretense or BS, comfortable, kind, caring, and very importantly, cheerful in a not-forced, not-fake kind of way, like they like their work. Most of the people in the interview had been there twenty years or more.

I hope I still get to go to Iran, but I hope even more that I get this job.

It feels really right and the best thing is, it feels like a good fit. I feel like I have done all the things that are being asked of me, I know how to do them, I've done them before, I'm good at them. It's totally different from most if not all of my previous jobs where I've over-sold myself and had to scramble to live up to the interview. I don't feel like I have to do the hardest thing. This work will be good work and it will be challenging but at a good level for me.

My biggest fear/concern is keeping my life sane. Not letting the job eat all my free time and sanity and all the mental health I've struggled to gain.

In Miriam's writing class I discovered that on some level I am terrified of and opposed to taking any job, that I just want to hide in my house for the rest of my life (not that that wasn't obvious from the way I've lived the last two years of my life!) So I don't want to disrespect or ignore those feelings. But I do want to forge ahead anyway....

AND........

Loopy's back didn't hurt AT ALL today!!!! WOW!!!! it's too soon to be sure yesterday's procedure worked, and it's not just the lingering anesthesia--and even if it did work we don't know how long it will continue to work..... but, fingers crossed...

Very exciting! she might have her life back soon! i already feel like i have my wife back! Yay!

Yesterday was a very long day tho! Whew!

clarification; good news; Loopy update

Clarification

I really, really appreciated the warm & kind responses (via comments and email) to my previous posts, but I did want to clarify my intent. I didn't say that the rejection I experienced caused me to doubt my worth as a human being, my skill as a teacher, or the likelihood that I will find a job in the future and have a good life henceforth.

All I was trying to convey was the weird uneasiness of having gone through my Plan A, B, C, and D, and grasping at straws to cobble together a Plan E, and having no idea what Plan F was. The musing on "floating" vs "drifting" was just to say that the perception of being "unmoored" as a pleasant or unpleasant experience is entirely created in my own mind, and as such, while not necessarily under my control, it will not harm me if I just ride it out.

Thanks to lots of meditation and therapy I just stayed in that uncertain place, feeling uncomfortable, and whaddya know, it actually resolved itself very quickly.

Good news

So I submitted the application to Operation Fresh Start, as I mentioned, and the more I thought about it the more it seems like a good next step.

(Sidebar: It's not a full-blown classroom situation, and I feel somewhat disappointed not to be able to start practicing my new classroom skills immediately; on the other hand, I'm still in therapy, and while I think I can do a classroom, it might not be so bad to do some more therapy first. I've been trying to learn for the last, uh.... almost twenty years... ever since I decided to major in Japanese instead of biology in college... that I don't have to do the hardest thing.)

ANYWAY. The woman I ran into at Maharaja East also mentioned that her sister-in-law, whom I know from political and social contexts, knows a lot of the long-term staff/organizers at Operation Fresh Start. (This is the advantage of living in a small(er) town!) So I tried to find sister-in-law's email address, but she doesn't do email. Uh-oh!

To my own surprise, I actually brought myself to call her and ask her to put in a good word for me! And she called me back and said she did! And I called her back and thanked her! Wow! It must be all the therapy. Seriously.

THEN, I was worried that the hiring committee wouldn't realize that my temporary license is valid for teaching in Wisconsin. So, I actually brought myself to drive over there and talk with the receptionist, who then brought out the person in charge of the hiring, so I had a chance to do a little mini-interview and tell her how excited I am about the job and tell her some of my ideas for it and so on. She seemed really great, mellow, smart, with-it, etc.

THEN, today they called and gave me an interview! Thursday at 3:15! Wow!!!! I feel so good about it because I really went for it... and it worked out. We'll see what happens but regardless, I feel good that I did everything I could think of.

THEN, yesterday, a big-ish school district close to home (next to the district in which our house sits) emailed me about subbing there... said they had switched to a new computer system and hadn't followed up on the sub applications, but now they're ready to do so and can I come to an orientation tomorrow or next week?

So, you know, it all works out.

Loopy update

So, the last ER trip they gave Loopy prescription-strength Aleve and that seems to be working pretty well (along with the morphine still). But her legs are totally numb, which is scary, and the drugs make her stumble drunkenly and tire easily, which is frustrating for her, and also scary.

On the plus side, the insurance came through and the procedure (the steroid shot) is going to happen on Thursday. (Yes, Thursday is a big day for our household). Fingers crossed it will help! Otherwise they go on to more dramatic steps. :-/

But at least the pain is a lot less and she's getting 6+ hours of sleep at a time. The era of moaning and pacing all night is past, at least for now.

Again, thanks for all your support. We are grateful.

floating/drifting

"Floating" is a more positive word than "drifting."

"Floating on air" conveys ecstatic happiness. "Floating in the pool" sounds like a lazy summer afternoon... "floating" sounds like magical beings gracefully levitating... butterflies and pleasant odors can float on a breeze... and there's always the rootbeer float. It's a detachment from earthly ties, nothing weighing you down, freedom and lightness.

"Drifting" sounds like what happens when you're out at sea and your mast cracks or your motor dies, and you are at the mercy of winds and waves and currents, totally unable to control what happens. Continental drift causes earthquakes and volcanoes and tsunamis. Drifting happens to snow and then it's a heavy obstacle that is still not solid enough to get any traction on--you can't just pick it up and move it, but you can't struggle through it easily either--you just have to shovel through it and it's back-breaking and time-consuming. Drifting means you're being carried along and have nothing to grab onto, terrifying loss of bearings and control.

So really, I guess it's all a matter of perspective.

I talked to the school district office about why they didn't want me to sub, and we had a weird coded conversation that implied that either my old cooperating teacher is undermining me with a bad reference, or the gap between finishing the program and looking for a job looks so bad that I'm rejected automatically. Or maybe just that they have enough experienced teachers applying for the sub positions...

I'm not eligible for that job that my former student's mom wanted to offer me.

So, I'm not sure what comes next. Drifting, floating, something like that.

bit of a body blow

so i stayed up all night writing the application for Operation Fresh Start... then I cancelled my Farsi lesson (w Atefeh, how's that for a blast from the past, eh Miri?) and rewrote it... finally drove in to hand-deliver it by noon today.... on the way I picked up the mail... opened a letter from the Madison school district while driving, b/c I was excited... and it was a rejection!

not only are they saying I cannot be a sub (not even a SUB????? what am I, toxic????) for the district, but they sent the letter on the day that they received my online application--meaning, they didn't even see my transcripts, letters of reference, resumé, cover letter, or page of additional references.

i was really thrown. rug pulled out from under, etc.

i really hope the Operation Fresh Start application goes better, or else, what am I gonna do? seriously--what?

i ran into a parent of one of my old students at dinner tonight (Maharaja East, yay!) and she almost offered me a job on the spot--part time, after-school program with 2nd to 6th graders. i told her, "I kinda draw the line at the age when I have to wipe their nose for them," but who knows I might take it if it comes through. I'm a little afraid to hope at this point.

my life is weird

Little-known fact: if you buy $5 worth of groceries at Sentry's on a Sunday, they give you a free Sunday paper.

Now, granted, the Wisconsin State Journal is mostly useless to us, since we don't have a birdcage to line, but we do sometimes need to get the grill or fireplace going, so it does come in handy to pick up one or two copies a year.

Oh, and, as it turns out, there are classified ads in the back. Last Sunday Rebekah suddenly tossed me one of those finely-printed pages and annouced, "hey, I found you a job."

An apparently well-respected and well-funded organization called "Operation Fresh Start" is hiring teachers to help its 16- to 24-year-old participants get their GED's and/or any other educational support they might need, from basic literacy to community college prep.

At a glance it seems like an almost-perfect job for me. I like working with students with significant challenges and helping them see, believe in, and realize their own potential.

Plus, there's a whole procedure and system and team designed specifically to meet these students' needs; it wouldn't be like swimming upstream in public school trying to get anyone to give a shit about the students who struggle most.

Plus, it's four days a week, ten hours a day. (You put in ten hours at public school anyway; might as well get paid for it!)

On the other hand, the students are older than my preference, and GED prep could be pretty dull/frustrating for students and teacher alike...but as Loopy says, don't talk myself out of a job I haven't gotten yet.

So anyway, I'm filling in the application and I start feeling really weird about my life. It asks what honors I've received so I start writing, "Phi Beta Kappa, summa cum laude, Hoopes Prize for Outstanding Senior Thesis"--and it's just so weird. I worked really hard for those things and for what.... ?

It's like another lifetime, another planet. I look around my room and see a Japanese teacup, a random Moroccan flag, a socialist bumper sticker. My life feels weird and disjointed.

I spent the first, uh, 22 years cramming so much in, like if everything I did was extreme and superlative I would win some kind of prize. And what? And nothing. It didn't make any difference.

Sure, I could try to be someplace where it would make more of a difference--grad school, the Council on Foreign Affairs. But I have no desire to go anywhere near those places or communicate with the people who think all those things are important. So why do I even care? Why did I?

I just feel so different from my younger self, it feels like I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, and yet, I don't want any of the things I turned away from.

OK, so, I'm not even able to express why I'm having this existential angst, so, back to the application.

On a more practical note, will they think I"m a huge snob for putting down Phi Beta Kappa? Jeez. I hate these things. Who knows what anybody will think about anything? Will they think it's a grammatical error if I capitalize my bullet points, or if I don't? Argh.

more news

so, well, Loopy only slept one night, and even that was short & interrupted. after that the pain was back and so was the pacing, the moaning, the lying down for half an hour only to spring up again as the muscle spasms started. it was all awful.

Sunday night I made her go to the ER because her feet were swollen and tingly. I called the doctor on call at our insurance, and he said to go; at the ER the doctor there confirmed that yes, it's good to come in for those symptoms, as they can point to several life-threatening conditions.

Fortunately none of those were the case, BUT the doctor there gave her prednisone, which immediately made the pain stop, and it stayed stopped until she stopped taking the prednisone, i.e., today. (You can't take it for long since it's pretty toxic). Now the pain is back, a little; we're waiting to see how much worse it gets. She's scheduled for a steroid shot on Oct. 5. Hopefully that will end the pain for at least a year or two.

In other news, my grade changes finally went through and I officially got my degree--Bachelor of Science in Education. Yay for me! I still am not subbing, b/c when I finally got it together to submit the paperwork, turns out it takes weeks to be approved--it's like being accepted for any other job. Wow. Okay then. Hurry up and wait.

Still, it's good to know that all those F's are wiped off my record... my hideous and embarrassing failures concealed from the world.... hard to describe how good that feels, and interesting to observe.

good news!

Loopy is sleeping, a lot! Yay! Finally! She hasn't had a good night's sleep since February, and no more than a couple hours at a time in at least six weeks. She slept five hours in a row last night and then went back to sleep & is still at it three hours later. Yay!!

Or as they say in Farsi, kheyli khub eh!

morphine & Farsi

We saw the specialist today for Loopy's back and he prescribed morphine and trazodone, promising that once she got going on that she'd sleep for a couple days. She took the pills and seemed fast asleep for like an hour and a half, and I was really optimistic. But no. Back up again. *sigh* Hopefully the effect will be cumulative, starting, like, tomorrow. He's also arranging for a steroid shot into the, uh, affected area (not to get too gory with the details). Hopefully that will be soon, like, tomorrow. *sigh* again.

This whole series of posts is so split-personality, but what can I do? I'm so excited about the Iran trip. I bought a phrasebook and CD tonight as well as a guidebook. I'm still awake at 1 am because I read through the whole phrasebook. It was fascinating to see all the cognates to, like, every language I've ever learned or seen on a restaurant menu. I guess that's what happens when you live at the center of the world.

Loopy needs me to go deal with the dogs so I'll write more tomorrow.

implicit

Joel sent me to the website of Project Implicit, where you can take tests that show your unconscious preferences. I wanted to take the one that shows whether you're secretly racist, but I didn't get that one, unfortunately (there are 100 of them and you can take as many as you like!) I took four. The tests did show that I:

• have a strong preference for Shaquille O'Neal over Kobe Bryant (well no fucking kidding, who wouldn't pick the guy that helped police arrest a gay-basher over the alleged rapist??)
  
• no preference between Coke & Pepsi (even though I tried to have a preference for Pepsi since Coke kills union activists in Colombia... but I guess when faced with those logos they all just were equally mind-numbing)
  
• a slight preference for team activities vs. individual activities (yay for socialism)
  
• a slight preference for carbohydrates over protein
  
• one more I can't recall, gotta go now
  

reflection on 9/11, two days late (and Loopy's back still hurts)

It's tomorrow, not today, that we're going to the specialist for Loopy's back. Bluh.

Miriam pointed out that I posted about going to Iran on 9/11, which would be the excuse for blowing up Iran (9/11 would be the excuse, that is). I could also add that the US's support for the 1953 coup in Iran is considered by some (including myself) a major contributor to the rise of radical Islam. (Because it was the only force that could successfully combat the brutality of US-backed dictatorships that completely obliterated any Left movement).

As for 9/11 itself... I mostly spent 9/11 trying to avoid the lugubrious "remembrances." My personal opinion is, if 9/11 meant anything to you, why the hell would you want to remember it for five seconds? It was a horrible day and I basically avoid thinking about it. Whenever I see the photos of the towers on fire it's like a fist in the stomach, all over again. I don't want to "get used to" those images.

Another thing that has maintained its immediacy is my annoyance with the many people here in Wisconsin who just don't seem to get it. On the morning of 9/11, we went to Espresso Royale for breakfast, and the college kids were just acting like it was any other day, talking about the towers that were burning at that moment like it was some celebrity gossip.

Oh well. I seem to be cranky lately. Witness my silly pointless vitriol toward specific lines of Keats's fabulous Ode to Autumn, below. *sigh*

going to Iran! :-D / Loopy's back hurts :-(

You may remember how I was gonna go to Iran but then I decided not to. Well, I'm going for real this time, unless Bush & co blow the place up before October 28.

Yay!

---

In other news, Loopy is exhausted but hasn't slept in like 48 hours cuz she's in so much pain. She already took ambien, percoset, alleve, and advil. Now she's gonna go take valium because it's the only thing left she hasn't taken.

This is ridiculous and awful. We're just hanging on til Wednesday when she gets to see the specialist. I hate this!!!! I hate that she's in pain and that I can't do anything about it. :-P

news? you want actual news?

I didn't get a job; Loopy is in terrible pain most of the time but she had an MRI a couple days ago and we're seeing the spine specialist again this week; I am supposed to be subbing but instead I'm sitting around the house in my PJs every day. (Well, I don't actually have any PJs, but you get the point). Mom is doing much better--she moved home yesterday and is very happy to be there.

See, you didn't really want news.

summer definitely ending...

for a couple days, the opening line of a Keats ode to autumn I had to study in college has been running through my head.... the line that keeps repeating is, "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness." I love that. Of course, I hate the next line, "Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun..." I hate all that Romantic personification, blah blah blah.

I remember I loved that class when I took it, freshman year, with my friend Sylvia; I loved the feeling I was reading Great Literature, I loved the poetry, I loved reading out of a big heavy anthology edited by my professor. Today kids accuse the prof of just trying to sell books when s/he assigns hir own work... I was star-struck that my prof had written an actual book, he was actually the authority in the field... I have no idea whether that was true, or whether that's just my youthful naivete....

Here's the whole poem. It's about equal parts insufferable affectation:

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee* sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind...
[* "Thee" = Autumn, personified as a lovely woman, of course]

and gorgeous, succulent imagery:

While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

and

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

*sigh* how long has it even been since I've read a poem?

progress not perfection...

...yeah, yeah, I know.

but why does it feel like i keep starting over at square one?

Loopy-Loopy dialogue #18,435

Loopy: What are we gonna do about that birch tree that fell over into the backyard?

Me: Why don't we just leave it there?

Loopy: Ok. Hillbilly landscaping.

---

Bonus: Loopy-Mommy dialogue

Mom (in hospital, under the influence of morphine and percoset): Mmmmmrrgmph.

Me: What?

Mom: Oh....I'm sorry, I forgot what I was going to say.

Me: That's cuz you're asleep! Go to sleep! Jesus!

not even one toe in...yet

Since last posting I went from Montreal almost directly to Arizona, where I spent a grueling week in Arizona while my Mom had surgery and I tried to keep my Dad from wandering into traffic. Now I'm home and Loopy has gone to Chicago. I'm supposed to be pursuing jobs and/or signing up to sub.

I feel exactly the way I used to when I was a summer camp counselor, and we'd go to this swimming hole every day, and the water was sooooo cold. I always knew I'd get used to it and it would feel fine, but there was this moment when I just looked at it and dreaded the first icy immersion....

Similarly... I know once I get into the routine of subbing it will be fine. I've gotten lots of handy tips from friends & acquaintances and it sounds like it's actually pretty fun once you get going. But that first day, or first few days, before I really know the ropes, are just like that icy water...

Never mind having my own classroom. That's seriously scary, espcially at this point when I'd ahve exactly two days to prep. I try to be nonchalant about it ("other people have done it, so can I") but it's unconvincing. Anyway, it looks unlikely that I'll have my own room this year. I'm still checking the vacancy postings daily and applying to everything that comes up, but, no nibbles--they want a license in hand, I guess, and it'll be a few more weeks before that happens.

So yeah... today (yesterday) was a waste. Thought about taking the steps to pursue subbing and/or the few jobs still available...panicked and played with Flickr all day.

Well. On to tomorrow.

On the plus side, playing with Flickr has its benefits for you, dear readers. Check out the first batch of pix from Montreal on my Flickr site.

Here are a couple you won't see if you don't have a Flickr account that I've linked as a "friend" or "family"...

Shamus at "Fondue Mentale"

...where dinner consists of three courses of fondue!! delish!

Ted & Carolina at Maestro SVP

Hey, we're not the only ones who take photos of our food! (Ted's dessert--three flavors of creme brulee--was absolutely incredible!)

the love of my life

I love this photo. I don't know why. :-) We just had our 13th anniversary on the 26th--yay us! We celebrated it a lot, repeatedly, though I will refrain from providing any details.



Speaking of the love of my life, the other day, I was talking with her about how our couples' therapist is so wonderful and how he has allowed us to not only revitalize our marriage but actually have a much better marriage than we ever did before, even at the beginning.

I said, "we should send him something, you know, to show our appreciation." Loopy reminded me that we do send him something, all the time--it's called money.

Going to bed now.

IT'S DONE!!!!!

* cartwheels *

I don't know whether all the paperwork will go through properly, but I am DONE DONE DONE with all the work! Yay for me!

i learned a new word

Procrustean

ADJECTIVE: Producing or designed to produce strict conformity by ruthless or arbitrary means.

ETYMOLOGY: After Procrustes, a mythical Greek giant who stretched or shortened captives to make them fit his beds, from Latin Procrusts, from Greek Prokrousts, from prokrouein, hammer out, to stretch out : pro-, forth; see pro–2 + krouein, to beat.

It's a useful word. I came across it describing Marxist historians who try to make different social patterns and groupings all fit their pre-conceived idea of How Things Are. I've learned this word before but not remembered it....

It's 10 pm, my last paper's due tomorrow, and it seems endless. *sigh* Loopy has denied all access to the garden of earthly delights until I finish, just as an extra incentive. *sigh again*

Back to work.

update

I successfully ordered that latte in French -- so proud of myself! -- but the paper is not going well at all today. :-( As in, I'm not doing anything.

Gotta get going.....

since I'm being dull today, you should go watch this video on Ang's blog. I particularly think Rie would like it, but so would everyone else. it's just wonderful in so many ways. :-)

two little snippets from Montreal

I was going out for my walk, heading down toward Rue de la Commune (I love that we're staying a block away from a street named after the Paris Commune!!)...It was just getting to be lunch-time and on the corner of Rue St-Paul, there was a beautiful woman in an old stone doorway, surrounded by as-yet empty tables and chairs of a sidewalk cafe.

She looked like she was standing there expressly in order to attract customers: she leaned langourously against the doorway in the warming sun, a stack of menus in one arm; she scanned the passing crowds with a lazy sultry appraising look, from piercing green eyes in a well-tanned face. Her tight peasant blouse was partly unlaced at the top, and her gorgeous full breasts seemed to strain to escape from it.

Seriously. They did. I'm not exaggerating.

I almost would eat there just to be able to look at her. I'm sure it's been known to happen.

She saw me looking at her so I looked away and crossed the street, thinking that I would wait a few moments, and then try to steal another glance. Just as I was about to go out of sight round the corner, I looked up at her again.

She had turned her head and was looking right at me with a sly grin. When my eyes met hers, her smile widened a little in satisfaction, seeming to say, "uh-huh, I knew you were gonna look again!"

I quickly looked down, but helplessly smiled back a shame-faced smile that may have conveyed, "what can I say, you caught me," and hurried past the corner into the cool shadows.

I guess when you're that stunning, you get used to all the ways people try to steal a good look at you--and all the people who want to look.

Snippet #2: here's how to place my favorite coffee order in French:
un grand latté glacée, décafiné, à soya.
:-)

Personal update:
Still not done with that last paper, but trying to strike a balance between work and play. Feeling very anxious a lot; not sure if that's the paper, or the upcoming trip to the family, or what. *sigh* Trying to enjoy myself anyway.

Loopy has been assigned to write blog posts from Montreal because she's always up half the night with her back hurting, but I guess that's not the frame of mind in which you want to write blog posts, poor thing. I should go write my paper, though, and not write about our trip; maybe another time.

xoxo
me