She Wore A Bone Necklace!

I need some creative, artsy help.

My awesome surgeon very kindly let me keep my little extra bone. It lived for awhile in my freezer, and when the weather got a little warmer out I moved it into my zucchini planter. I decided to try to clean it using cold maceration...basically, I'll keep it in a jar with some water and let the bacteria do their thing. I change the water every so often, and hopefully soon I'll have a clean bone. Then a little hydrogen peroxide for whitening/germ killing, and I should be good to go. I am a little confused, since on the same instruction sheet it then goes on to tell you to never soak the bone, but I'm hoping that just means 'once everything's off of it.' I'm also confused because I've read that to maintain bone jewelry you should oil it with jojoba or something every so often, but I've also read that you should only handle the bone with clean hands because otherwise it will soak up your oil and discolor/weaken it. I saw one guy put a coat of some kind of polymer on his collected bones (polyacrylate, I think) but I don't know for sure, and I kind of only get one shot at this.

I digress. Assuming that my bone does come out of this ordeal clean, I really really really want to make it into a necklace. Here's the catch: I don't want to do anything to damage it. No holes, no glue. I will at some point have to 'do' the other foot, and if I'm allowed to keep that bone too then I may want to make earrings. I've considered doing (learning how to do) some sort of wire-wrapping. But beyond that I'm a little stuck.

Most examples of wire-wrapping I see are very 'pretty.' I've been told or at least hinted to that my wanting to put my own foot bone in a necklace is a little weird and a little macabre. So I don't want a 'pretty' necklace of this. I want it to be totally bad-ass. My latest idea is to somehow wire-wrap it, then string it on some black hemp-knotted cord (that kind of stuff I'm already not too bad at), and then maybe even add a Mjölnir pendant. I've been a teensy bit 'into' Norse mythology as of late, and no, it's not only because of these guys. Or Thor. Which is an excellent movie, btw. I just like it. I figure I could probably use an Icelandic-style wolfshead hammer that was thought to be worn by both pagan and Christian Vikings, so it isn't being heretical or disrespectful to Norse Neo-Pagans/Heathens:

I guess the downside is that it looks a bit like an inverted cross which may make some folks think I'm satanic or something.

What to do, what to do...thoughts?

In other news, I changed the blog layout. Mostly so I could actually put in real-sized YouTube videos like the one in the previous post without resorting to creative html code that I truly do not understand and usually end up making much, much worse. I don't know that I'm crazy about it, so it may change again.

Yes, I have a 'type'.

I am not one to go nuts over celebrities. I never got into JTT (yeah, remember him?), Josh Hartnett, Brad Pitt, or Matt Damon. Not really my type, and more importantly, I knew there was nothing to be gained. On my 21st birthday I met Jenson Button, my Formula 1 'boyfriend,' and I was a little star-struck, but had no fantasies that Jenson Button was going to be like, 'yeah, let's hang out and I'll show you my stomach' or anything. I just don't get all girly and 'eeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!' about people I don't, and won't, ever know...especially those who are way, way out of my league.

Until now.

I've mentioned Tyr before, a Viking/Folk/Progressive Metal band out of the Faroe Islands. The Faroe Islands are a mostly independent nation that's part of Denmark (along with Greenland). It's located between  Iceland, Norway and Scotland. I discovered them some months ago. I like them very much. Here's why:



Go ahead. Watch it again. Watch it again, I won't judge. I've been listening to them while I work up data. Because my data has been taking some time to load, I've even been watching the videos.

Long story short, I discovered that the crazy-hot guitarist (the one on the end with all the tattoos and piercings) is on the Facebook. Not just a 'Like' page, like the also-lovely frontman has, but an actual 'Add as Friend' Facebook page. I noticed that he had somewhere around 3000 'friends,' so I thought, hey, why not?

The happiest moment of my day today came when I received the email "Terji Skibenæs confirmed you as a friend on Facebook." I grinned like a fool. Probably blushed a little. I'm really, REALLY happy none of the lab boys were around.

So now I'm trying to figure out how to have a ridiculous schoolgirl crush on a man I do not know (but who's Facebook friends with me), whose name I cannot even pronounce, and still maintain a little bit of dignity and pragmatism. One good thing about being able to browse through his profile is that I've learned that he has a girlfriend, and there are a lot of adorable pictures of him and his nephew. These discoveries have brought me a little bit back to earth...it's hard to go from thinking, 'aww, look at him playing Legos!' to having thoughts that are entirely inappropriate for a happily married woman to have about another man. I'm also resisting the temptation of posting things like 'OMG I LUV U UR SOOOO HOTTTTTT' on his wall and commenting on each post and picture. There's definitely a girl who appears to have actually met him, but seems a little desperately obsessed, and it's kind of sad. I don't want to be that.

Also, he cut his hair on Saturday. He's still a good-looker, but it's probably better for my marriage this way.

Surgery Post V: 2 Months Later

I am one-third of the way done healing, apparently. According to my surgeon, it takes 6 months for my little titanium friend to fully incorporate into my bone. And then it might take a little more time for my foot to really feel like MY foot, and be used to walking on it and the like. But I'm healing up according to schedule, which is a nice thing. I am no longer using a cast or a boot or even crutches; I'm in my regular shoe with an ankle brace for stability. I can shower (as opposed to bathe), and I can even walk a little barefoot from the bathroom to the bedroom. It is all very exciting.

A couple weeks after my surgery, a friend of mine asked me if I was happy that I had done it. At that time, my foot was in a cast, and I really had no idea. Since I'm still not totally healed, I still can't say for sure, but I thought I would jot down some things I've noticed.

• I have an arch. For those of you who have regular arches, try to imagine for a minute that if your feet are on the floor, you can't stick a finger under your foot at all. This is how both of my feet were (and one still is). But now I can! I also got to see before and after x-rays, and it's amazing how...normal! my foot looks now!
• My knee goes over my toes! This is the biggest reason that I never would have been a successful ballerina (and yes, I was classically trained...until I was 13 or 14, anyway). I just never was able to put my knees over my toes, and it turns out it's because of my feet. I notice that when I walk, I no longer throw my foot out...if anything, I'm slightly pigeon-toeing because I'm used to trying to compensate. It's very weird, and very cool.
• Speaking of, I've completely forgotten how to walk. I'm working on it, and it's getting more natural.
• Weirdly enough, the most painful part of walking right now is directly under my pinky toe. Maybe that bone just never had pressure on it?
• My ankle is still enormous. 
• If I didn't have the bone in a cup in my zucchini planter, I would think they maybe forgot to take it out. There is still a bump where they took it out. I don't know if it's just that everybody has a little bump there (I really don't know) and maybe they didn't remove as much as I had assumed they would, or maybe it's just still really swollen. 
• The skin on my fourth toe, and also the skin on the inside of my lower calf, is totally numb. Apparently this is completely normal.
• The scars on my foot are pretty thin, but the one on my calf is pretty ugly. Turns out Mederma is $20 a little tube, but while I am not terribly vain, I really want this scar to be a little less...noticeable.
• I already mentioned the crazy amount of gross extra skin that came when I was in a cast for 6 weeks. What I didn't mention was the hair. I have always had, as I'm sure a lot of people have, very fine, very light hair between my ankle and big toe on the top of my foot. For whatever reason, my body decided that since I was in a cast and my skin was swelling (or something), that super light, super fine hair turned coarse and DARK. I have a cavewoman foot. I don't totally know what to do about it. I'm hoping it will just kind of go away after some time, or at least not grow back after awhile if I shave it off.

Guess I'll get the throw pillows...

Tjett was in the process of growing a playoff beard. He hadn't shaved since the playoffs started and the Wings kept winning so he just didn't shave it off..."if it's working, I'm not going to mess with it." He is very superstitious about hockey. It was also not terribly pretty. I said "*sigh* ok. It's fine." Which I DID actually mean, because far be it from me to make Tjett do something that would make his team lose.*

Because he (rightly) figured I meant that I still thought he should shave, he went ahead and buzzed it off. The Red Wings are now down 0-2 in the second game of the series, and are already behind one game. If they don't come back in the series, Tjett's going to blame me for making him shave off his beard and making his team lose. In which case I'm pretty sure he'd file for divorce.

*Even though hockey isn't my very favorite thing ever, I like it well enough. It's probably my favorite sport. And even though my team is the Wild, I rather like the Red Wings. Especially Jiri Hudler. And even though I'm not personally invested in the playoffs, I really like my husband. And I really like it when he's happy. And he tends to be happy when his team wins, and vice versa.

Things I Love Thursdayish

Or Fridayish. Whatever.

• This is super gross and I apologize. While encased in a cast, my foot developed some serious dead skin. It is so disgustingly satisfying when parts of my gross chunks of skin fall and peel off. It's a little like a sunburn.
• Pie! Turns out I make good pie. The boys REALLY liked the last version. I made two tonight for the baby shower tomorrow, and I hope they both turned out.
• Chinese food. We got takeout from First Wok, and my Tai Chen chicken was delicious. The shrimp doughnuts today however were not delicious. Kinda gross.

Mortality.

I learned this week that our chemical stockroom manager at Cornell, Linda Halsey, passed away on Easter Sunday from (I think) breast cancer. She was 69 years old. Linda was awesome. She was a retired nurse, and had been the first female nurse to work in the Iowa Prison system.

Linda (NEVER 'Mrs. Halsey'......"Halsey is my husband. I'm LINDA.") was the kind of person you didn't want to get on the wrong side of. She took her job extremely seriously, and woe to the student who took chemicals without asking! But considering I was, and most of us were, on her good side, she was just a wonderful, hilariously sarcastic person.

My favorite Linda moment: During one of our upper-level chem classes, there was also Organic Lab going on. There was a girl who was taking it who was...an odd duck. She tended to faint a lot from the lab. One day during our break there was some hubbub in the hallway. "What happened, Linda?" we asked.

"Oh, Sniffy fainted again."

I'll miss you, Linda.

I am the Lord of the Pies (Right Close) [1]

I am throwing a friend of mine a baby shower this Saturday. Since it's pretty much mandatory that there is a dessert at baby shower, I asked her what kind of cake she wanted. Turns out she doesn't like cake. Does she like pie? Why yes! Any particular kind of pie? Pie with berries in it!

Ok. Pies. Berry pie. Um...turns out I have no idea where in this town to buy pie [2]. If we still had a Baker's Square, I would have gone with that. But I really have no idea how Perkins pies or Bob Evans pies are, and I really don't want to have store-bought pie. Especially berry pie. It just doesn't seem like it would be that tasty.

So how hard could it be to make a pie?

Well...

I have, very wisely I think, decided to make practice pies. I made my first practice pie on Sunday, left it at home yesterday, but remembered to bring it to work today. I had an issue with the crust: mostly, the recipe told me I should use a food processor. I don't have a food processor. Turns out I probably could have just done it with a fork, but that seemed complicated. So I forwent the crust. And put it in a square pan. Tjett refused to refer to it as a pie. I liked to call it a "pie".

The berry filling was pretty tasting. I used frozen berries, that happened to already be sweetened, and used about half of the remaining sugar the recipe called for. And tapioca, as a filler.

It had a streusel topping. It looked oh-so-pretty when I put it together, but sometime in baking it all fell into the "pie" and I was left with a streusel island.

The verdict: Not bad, but could use improvement.

Tonight is attempt #2. Same filling (except I used more sugar since apparently Schnucks brand frozen berries are unsweetened). Same topping...except that I'm going to let the pie bake for 20-odd minutes before putting it on. I'm considering broiling it for about 5 seconds at the end, just to try to get the topping crunchy and nice. I might totally f up the pie. But that's why it's a practice pie, yes? Also, there is a crust. While there were rave reviews for the crust, I decided to go with Jiffy pie crust mix. While there was some love put into it (and I couldn't find 'regular' pre-made pie crust), it's easier than the crust recipe.  And I have it on good authority that adding a little butter to it makes it super-awesome. And if this doesn't work out, I'll try a shortbread pre-made crust.

The boys in my lab should be happy.


[1] In high school marching band we did Appalachian Spring. One of our drum majors used to sing/instruct "I am the lord of the dance, right close." Oh Benny...
[2]If you ever happen to drive through western Wisconsin on....I-90, maybe?, make a stop in Osseo. It's a tiny tiny town almost exactly 2 hours east of my hometown; about an hour and a half east of the MN/WI border. The restaurant/bakery is called the Norske Nook. They have really good food, and the BEST pie. And the receipts say 'pop' on them. And all the waitresses (some of whom I recognize from stopping there every year with my family on vacation...they stick around!) wear these cute Norwegian dresses.

Okey Dokey Karaoke

...Or should I say, car mix!! I have...lots...of songs that I like to 'sing' in the car, especially on longer car trips. By myself. Because SOMEBODY gets all huffy when people sing good songs poorly. I most likely fall into that category. I was in band for a reason.

My criteria: 1) I have to know most of the words. Yes, I realize that the point of karaoke is that they give you the words, but it's better if you already know the majority of the words. 2) It must be beltable. 'Nice' songs, even though that I absolutely love and would happily sing in the shower and are the first songs I would ever learn on the guitar, are not my favorite car songs.

I just checked, and there are 35 songs on my car list. I won't give you every single one of them, but here are my favorites:

Billy Idol (Rebel Yell, White Wedding)
Counting Crows (Rain King)
Garbage (The World is Not Enough)
Kansas (Carry on Wayward Son, Dust in the Wind)
Poison (Talk Dirty to Me, Every Rose Has Its Thorn)
Ricky Martin (She Bangs, Livin La Vida Loca, La Bomba)
Guns 'N Roses (Knockin' on Heaven's Door, Paradise City, Live and Let Die)
Rush (Roll the Bones, Fly By Night, Tom Sawyer, Closer to the Heart)
Tenacious D (Tribute, Wonderboy)

Interview with a Samoyed

As I've mentioned before, dogs do not speak English. Tia is, however, an incredibly 'talkative' dog. She rarely barks, but she has so many different sounds for different occasions. While she makes a lot of her noise...unasked...these are some common responses, and what we've assumed they translate into.

Me: Is it suppertime? Should we go get some supper?? Let's go get some supper!!!

Tia: AROOOWOOOOOO!!!! AROOOO!!! (trans: YAY!!!! FOOD!!! FOOOOOOOD!!!!!)

Me: Can we go down the stairs? You want to go down the stairs?

Tia: rooooooooooooo!!! (trans: look at me I'm going down the stairs all by myself!)

Me: Who's my Tia? Who's my good puppy? Who's my good girl?

Tia: ngaaaaaaaaaaa! (trans: I am!)

Me: Sit! Tia, off!.....

Tia: whine whine whine (trans: I can't contain myself hurry up I'm being a good girl I want my treat!)

Me: (on the way to the park) Where are we going, Tia?

Tia: AROO!! AAA! AAA! AROOWOO!!!!! (trans: PAAAAAAAARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Always look on the brighter side of Good Friday

Good Friday is arguably the holiest day in the Christian year. The Good Friday service is usually very solemn, and can be emotional. While coming out of the solemnity can feel a bit odd, and I feel bad for not being more contemplative in the time following the service...I just think this is fun. And delightfully sacrilegious (while avoiding being actually offensive, if you've ever seen the movie). So here it is, a clip from Life of Brian:

Things I Love Thursday

• My boot. I'm in a boot! Which means that I can take it off!! It's great. The only discomfort I have with it is that my heel gets rather excessively tired and sore throughout the day, but everything else about it is great. It even has one of those sweet Reebok Pump deals. Just like the shoe, I can't REALLY tell when it's inflated, but it is super-fun doing it.
• Marathon phone calls with my big brother. I am HORRIBLE at keeping in touch with people. It's not that I don't want to, and it's not even that I don't like talking on the phone. I don't honestly know why. My brother called me a couple of weeks ago, and like the terrible little sister I am, I put off calling him until a couple of days ago. So bad am I at calling him, he was convinced that I was pregnant and that's why I was calling. Must get better at that. Anyway, we had a FABULOUS conversation, and I even got to talk to his girlfriend for a few minutes. I love my big brother!
• Mango and sticky rice. Since my favorite lunch buddy is graduating, we have decided that we should go to Basil Thai a few more times before she does. On this week's trip, we realized that in the 5 years we've been coming here, not once have either of us ever tried a dessert. They had two: Tiramisu and mango with sticky rice. Feeling that Tiramisu would not exactly be the most 'authentic' Thai dessert, we opted for the mango/sticky rice. Oh. My. Goodness. I can't believe we've never gotten it before. I like mangoes ok, but I'm not really wild about them. But these were good...they were the exact ripeness that I think they should be; soft and sweet without being mushy or cloying. And the rice! Really, I would have been happy with just the rice. It was not overcooked or in a rice pudding as we expected at all. It was just...rice...with some kind of delicious, sweet 'binder' for lack of a better term. Not quite a sauce. So. Good. And the rice was hot. For some reason that surprised us both.
• Productivity! Since returning to work, I can't say that I've been the most productive I've ever been. I have to take lots of 'sit breaks,' and a lot of things that I need have mysteriously moved over the last month and a half. A lot of what I'm trying to do now is laser diagnostics, and yes, that is exactly (or less) as exciting as it sounds. Which gives me even less motivation, and makes sit breaks all the more appealing. This morning though, I decided that I wanted to get this one thing done. And I so totally did. It was probably the most productive day I've had since I've been back. 

How To Earn A Crappy Sweatshirt

5ish years ago, before we moved to Illinois, Tjett completed his first Old Chicago World Beer Tour. For those of you unfamiliar with Old Chicago and its Beer Tour, basically, the goal is to drink 110 different beers. Along the way, you get chintzy little prizes: a deck of cards, a mini-compass, then later you get a T-shirt, a thermos, and a cooler.

The final, 110 beer prize, is your name on a little plaque on the 'Wall of Foam.' Also, you get a sweatshirt.

Tjett's sweatshirt was just amazing. Heavy, thick, plushy, soft...it was everything I ever wanted in a sweatshirt, but as I had stolen all of his other sweatshirts and fuzzy pants, he would not let me steal this one too. This one, I had to EARN.

Tonight I finished my first tour. Tjett finished his second. Oh, how I was looking forward to MY amazing sweatshirt. When our server brought it, it felt...thin. It was in a plastic bag so I didn't get to really examine it, but it just didn't feel as awesome as Tjett's old one.

I got home and tried it on. I am not a very big person. I had gotten a Medium, figuring that would give me ample room without swimming in it. Unfortunately, it was too short in the torso and too short in the sleeves. Mostly, it was like a slightly thicker long-sleeved T-shirt. I am SUPER disappointed. I'm going to call them tomorrow to see if I can't at least exchange for a Large. *sigh* I wish we had just finished our tours while we were in Iowa...

On a happier note, somebody stopped a Nickelback song that was playing while I was enjoying my 110th beer. Also, they do raffle drawings on Wednesdays and Tjett and I EACH won a free large pizza.

The Art of Writing Suckily.

One of the first dates my husband and I went on was the US Formula One Grand Prix in Indianapolis. This was...2004? Jeebus. He is a mega F1 fan. I have learned to appreciate racing[1] to a degree. Mostly for me it's about the individual drivers and who I decide I like, who I don't like, who I want to see win...that kind of a thing.

My mom has learned some of their names, and can also 'appreciate' it. She found this book and lent it to me. It's called The Art of Racing in the Rain. She assumed I would like it because it a) is told from the standpoint of a dog, and b) it has lots of F1 racing references.

I've never written a book review, so I'm not sure where to start. Especially considering I read this several months ago. Especially since (if you couldn't guess)...I hated it.

I don't know what the author thought he was doing. The whole premise is that the main human character is a substitute race-car driver who is especially good at racing in the rain, much like his idol, Michael Schumacher. Schumi is, for those of you unversed in F1, arguably one of the greatest drivers of all time. He's won 7 world championships, which is a lot. Enzo (as in Enzo Ferrari) is the dog. He tells the story.

Basically, Enzo and the dude start out really happy. Then he gets married, she and Enzo aren't BFF, they have a kid and Enzo swears to protect her, then all sorts of bad stuff happens. Racing, especially racing in the rain is supposed to be metaphorical...but he loses. It's like he threw that bit in there as some sort of plot device, but it could have just as easily been called The Art of Baking a Cake with a Crappy Oven or The Art of Riding a Bike on Gravel. I don't know if he was trying to make people interested in the sport, or what. But I found the references (and explanations to the references) unnecessary.

There was also some metaphorical bit about a crazy zebra. And how there's a murderous zebra in all of us. Or something.

I get that the story is told from a dog, and Enzo explains to us that he is a very special dog, and hopes to be reincarnated as a person. But really? REALLY? I love my dog. She is awesome. But she is a dog. She needs love and attention, food and water, shelter and a comfy bed. Or elbow, like right now. Other than a few choice words, she does not understand English. Obviously, she would make a terrible narrator.

So if you get rid of the doggy narrator, can the cheesy racing references, you're left with a very crappy story. Personal preference, I suppose. But this is one of those stories where EVERYTHING bad happens, but then resolves itself before the book ends. There really wasn't so much a plot to the book as there was a premise. Perhaps I've been spoiled by thrilling books with twists and turns, but it is all so predictable.

Oh, and then the dog dies at the end. I'm not giving anything away...the whole story is a flashback and if you read I think the very first page that ending will be obvious. My beef about that? It was specifically designed to tug at my heartstrings and make me cry. There is little I hate more[2] than being manipulated by a crappy book/movie into crying. Crying at a good book can be almost a pleasurable experience; cathartic, really. In this case, however, I was simply reminded of my own dog's mortality, and as she is 3 years old and my first dog ever I am not quite ready to think about her getting old. And thus the waterworks.

Now after seeing how much I hated this book but seeing how many other people seem to think it's magnificent, Tjett has decided to write his own sappy dog-based novel.

Anyway, that's all I've got. If you like predictable, manipulative books with details that are supposed to make the book somehow interesting, I bet you'd love it. Otherwise, stay away. You want a good dog-based book? Try James Herriot, or decide on a different species and re-read The Black Stallion or Black Beauty. You want a racing book? Steve Matchett. A predictable and sappy book about love and circumstances? I'm positive there are better ones[3].

[1]I'll watch the races. I'll nap in the middle. I'll not feel bad about doing either.
[2] Such as Nickelback.
[3] Or maybe it turns out I just hate the genre. Yep, that could be it too. OH except I didn't hate Bridges of Madison County. That's a good one.

ETA: You want a good dog-story that makes tears run down your face? Allie over at Hyperbole and a Half just (finally!) posted another winner. Go here.

Top Ten Things I'll Miss In Ur-Paign[1}

...assuming I ever, ever get to leave. I make no bones about not loving grad school, and Tjett's employment opportunities, frankly, suck. But I have realized in my 5 years that there are indeed things I like about this town...other than, of course, my friends.

1. My surgeon. In case anyone in town is facing foot surgery and is wondering, 'How good IS Dr. Sean Grambart at Carle in Champaign?' well, wonder no more. He is awesome. He is kind, professional, easy to talk to[2], reassuring, and as far as I know (as I'm not yet healed) extremely competent. It seems like 'everyone' I talk to (because there are so many people in town I've talked to who have had foot surgery) has the same great opinion of him. And unless the nurses/medical assistants are amazing liars, they all seem to like him too. My guess is that I'll most likely need to get my other foot 'done,' and most likely I'll be gone by then. I only hope that wherever we end up, there is an equally wonderful surgeon.
2. My church. When I first started going to St Matthew Lutheran Church in Urbana, I honestly wasn't wild about the service. But I came back because the pastors and the people and the social ministry that St Matts does is just phenomenal. I am so fortunate to have found this place. I was blessed to have great pastors growing up, and I can't believe how blessed I am again to have such wonderful people in my life. 
3. Beer Fest. Or more accurately, the International Beer and Chili Tasting Festival. Tjett and I go for the beer. Held in late September/early October, it is a little pricey but well worth it. And it's within a nice night's drunken walking distance, so no problems there. Also it's special to us because that's where Tjett proposed (more or less; he waited until we got home).
4. Central Illinois Metal Fest. As ridiculous as those weekends always turn out, it's fun, and it's nice to have an excuse for my brother to come visit and eat sushi with me.
5. The dog park. I realize that wherever we end up may have a fenced-in off-leash dog park, but there's no guarantee. Tia REALLY benefits from ~weekly romps around several acres and socializing with other dogs.
6. NISA. Northern Illinois Samoyed Assistance, which is where we got Tia, is located in Arlington Heights (outside of Chicago). There seem to be several Samoyed rescue groups in the nation, but not too many that ever actually have dogs. I guess that's good. But we really like Sams, and I am not at place in my life that I would want to get a puppy...both from an 'oh my goodness puppies are HARD' as well as a social 'I'd rather adopt a homeless dog' standpoint. 
7. The co-ops and farmers market. We have a pretty good (if expensive) co-op in town, and a fabulous farmers market in the summer. Visiting the market with Tjett and Tia is one of my favorite things to do. We also have a cool art co-op that Tjett and I recently discovered. 
8. Friar Tuck. Tuck's is a FABULOUS specialty beer/wine/liquor store. Every time I go in I feel like a kid in a candy store. They have an entire WALL of really good beer, as well as a cooler where they have things like LaBatt in cans (for camping or the racetrack!). Few things make me sadder than seeing people leave that store with 24-packs of Bud Light. 
9. Ballet and Habitat. I'm clumping these together because they're both things that I like to do, wish I could do more of, and mostly likely won't get to this summer because of el surgery-o. We have an amazing adult ballet instructor, who also happens to be the Dean of the business college or something. The Habitat folks are also super awesome, and very very active, with annual build(s) and a 'ReStore' where you can donate and buy used furniture. 
10. Restaurants: Black Dog, Crane Alley, Basil Thai and Miko. I also figured I would lump all the restaurants together, as I could probably have made a top-ten list of only restaurants and bars. One of Tjett's absolute favorite places in town is Black Dog. Black Dog is this magnificent BBQ place that is far too small but has excellent food, reasonable prices, and a stellar, rotating draft beer list. Crane Alley is the grad student bar/restaurant of choice...the food is surprisingly good, and they have a massive beer list. However, the service is pretty terrible. I still like it. Basil Thai is a very-close-to-work Thai restaurant. I go there a little too often with my friend Maria. It's not even close to being the very best Thai restaurant in the world, or even in town, but when you want something spicy and good for lunch it's a great place to go. And finally, Miko is where my brother and I go to get sushi when he visits. It's delicious.

[1] Adam discovered that in the 70s the way the 'cool kids' referred to Urbana-Champaign. I like it better than Chambana, so I use it too.

[2] Not to mention easy on the eyes...

Surgery Post IV: Things I was blatantly LIED TO about

It's been awhile since I've posted anything about my surgery. This was what I really, really wanted to write, but have been putting off. Granted, a month and a half after the fact I'm a little less super-raged about this, but I felt it should still be shared before I forget.

• "You can wear plastic jewelry in your piercings." When I scheduled my surgery, a month or two before it even happened, one of the nurses was going over my instructions for the day-of. "Wear comfortable clothing, no make-up, no jewelry--" "What about piercings?" I asked. "No piercings...but if you want to keep some holes open you can wear plastic jewelry." "What about quartz?" "What's that?" "Glass..." "No, it has to be plastic." "Ok." So you see, I did not just imagine being told that I could wear plastic jewelry in my piercings. So then I proceeded to order some plastic jewelry on interwebs, but then I waited too long and was afraid it wouldn't come in time, so then I bought some more from Hot Topic and the body jewelry cart in the mall. Overall, not a huge financial setback, but one I'd rather not have made in vain. When I went into surgery, the nurse there went over the same questions. "No makeup?" "No." "No jewelry?" "Only plastic." "...That still needs to come out..." And we chatted. She leafed through their rule book, and even called the nurse at the front. Who, apparently, was so irritated that I had been lied to that she wanted to know the girl's name who told me this. I didn't know it. But anyway, they gave me a denture cup to put my ugly, plastic, non-returnable jewelry into. It took me about a week to get everything[1] back in, but thankfully, I was at least able to.

• "The worst part of the nerve block will be that it feel really weird when we make your foot move and you aren't doing it." BULL. SHIT. Maybe if it hadn't been the first time the anesthesiologist had done this particular type of nerve block, that would have been true. But it HURT. It took a REALLY long time (15-20 minutes?) of this douche-nozzle[2] poking and digging around in my thigh until he was about to give up, and miraculously as he was pulling the electrode out he FINALLY hit my nerve. Which leads me to my next, and very related point:

• "We're giving you something so that you won't remember this." GO FUCK YOURSELVES. I feel like that if I remember being said this to, and I remember my jag-off anesthesiologist telling the nurse to give me more of whatever this magic Roofie was supposed to be, they did their job wrong. Especially considering that, oh, I do remember just how bad it was. My friend Emily who is a nurse tells me that they tried to 'Twilight' me. Apparently, it didn't take. Also, not anything I suppose I was lied to about, but the insertion site of this thing was ridiculously painful, which made getting remotely comfortable later on almost impossible. I'm seriously considering not getting another one if I have to get my other foot done.

• "It's just a little mosquito bite, and it doesn't hurt at all." Earlier, I mentioned that I was not told that, oh BTW, you're going to have to give yourself a shot every day for the next 10 days. I understand the importance of these shots. My family has a history of blood clots[3] and I'm on birth control[4] so apparently I'm at high risk. I'm a pretty 'big-girl' about shots. I don't usually mind them too much. But I can't say I was looking forward to this at all. I was comforted, however, by the fact that both my nursing student, her nursing teacher, and my friend Emily had told me that this shot was no big deal. A teeny, tiny little needle. A mosquito bite. Deep breath. Ok. Let's do this. The stick itself wasn't too bad. But the injection was HORRIBLE. It hurt SO BAD. The worst part though? No one believed me! A combination of being tired, hungry, in pain, knowing I'd have to put myself in pain, and not having anyone believe that I was in pain, and I burst into tears. After telling me for the twelfth time, 'that's a little baby shot! It doesn't hurt!' my wonderful nurse, Jayme, finally thought maybe I was telling the truth. She looked at the injection site...and I had a big rash emanating from it. Whoops! But then, the 5 other nurses that Jayme had brought in to figure out why I was in so much pain decided that clearly I was allergic to the alcohol swab. Yeah, no. Definitely, I'm allergic to Lovenox, which apparently almost no one is. Due to the fact that no, I couldn't have just taken an aspirin and a shot of vodka every day instead, and the other formulation is not yet generic, not covered by insurance, and therefore cost about a month's salary, I ended up taking the damn Lovenox, but with an ice pack and Benedryl beforehand.

[1] It's not like I have a hundred. But I do have a few I was worried about closing up...

[2] He actually seemed like a pretty nice guy, before I hated him more than Nickelback. Especially considering that he came to check up on me afterward and went almost PROUDLY into detail about how hard it was to find my nerve and how he had to dig around in there for so long...

[3] Thanks, Grandma! I also appreciate the tiny boobs and lazy eye. (No really, I love her very very much!)

[4] Woooo!

Duck Duck Grey Duck

Why 'grey duck,' you may ask? What is so...WRONG...with Minnesotans that we can't possibly use 'goose' like every other state in the nation?

It's simple. Minnesotans teach their children to be imaginative and creative. A typical game of 'Duck Duck Goose' involves a child tapping other children on the head repeating 'duck, duck, duck, duck...goose!' Now, consider a Minnesotan version of the game. 'Purple duck, orange duck, ggggggggggrrrrrrrreen duck, polka-dot duck, silly duck...Grey duck!' Way, way more fun.

QED.

Things I Love Thursday

• Cornell, including: friends, faculty, steel drums, and band. Ok, I know I've already done an "I love Cornell" post. But oh, how I miss the steel drums...
• Walking. Actually, walking kinda blows right now. I'm still in a 'walking cast' and will be until Monday, when I get a walking boot. I'm REALLY looking forward to the boot. Walking in the cast isn't terribly comfortable, and it's tiring and bit painful. But today was my first day more or less NOT on crutches...which is a HUGE step for me. I'm very proud (and very, very tired and sore).
• Beating the snot out of my husband in the March Madness bracket. I'm really not a competitive person...most of the time. And to tell you the honest truth, I flipped a coin while picking my bracket...which I only did in the hopes that I would get a free appetizer from Old Chicago. Well...thank you, Mr. Lincoln. Not only did I pick VCU (but only for 2 rounds), I picked UConn to win. Which put me in...wait for it...3rd place at Old Chicago!!! I got a free pizza out of it. Tjett, on the other hand, came in 29th and got a free appetizer. Really, I just think the whole thing's funny.
• Clearly, the ellipsis. I just realized I used it 7 times already.
• Corn Chex. They're not filling enough for breakfast, but I've been SO in the mood for them for a snack lately. Oh-so-delicious.
• My giant death laser. Yep, I blew up a filter today. And I tried to launch my flyer plate...(there it is again!) but basically just blew up a bunch of glass. I'm thinking 2.5 Joules MIGHT be a bit overkill.

The Dip

My mother came home from a house party of one of the 'church ladies' some years ago. My mom generally likes to talk up the places she's been, but she was extra extra excited about this dip that had been served. Apparently everyone there loved the dip so much that the hostess had printed off a bunch of recipe cards for those in attendance.

I will admit, I tend to be skeptical about the things my mom goes on and on about. But she made this dip, and oh man...it was as amazing as she had said. I make it for every occasion that I can think of. The only problem with it is that it really is best served hot, and not every party allows for hot food to be served hot.

Hot Chicken Dip
1 8-oz block of plain cream cheese (can be low or non-fat, if you really want)
1 can of cream of mushroom soup (can also be 'healthier')
1 can of mushrooms (stems and pieces, or fancy sliced)
1 (small) can of chunk chicken breast
1 packet (8 oz maybe?) of slivered almonds
Garlic powder, pepper, salt

On the stove, on low heat, soften the cream cheese until it's stirrable. Don't burn it though. Mix in the can of soup. Add the drained mushrooms. Drain the chicken, and rinse it until it runs mostly clear, and drain really well. Shred the chicken bits with a fork, and add the the dip. Or just pull it apart while it's in the dip. Add slivered almonds and stir. Add garlic powder and salt and pepper to taste. Serve with crackers (Wheat Thins are my favorite with this) or little bread slices.

I actually don't add any salt at all to it, since I use the regular-sodium soup, and use salty crackers, but whatever floats your boat.

Katie's Adult Playground

So the name needs work. But I maintain that this is the best idea I have ever had. Seriously. If someone takes it (a-HEM) I will be very very sad (and try unsuccessfully to sue the pants off of that someone. It's (not) patented).

Here's the idea...a playground, sized and adjusted to adults. Maybe combined with a bar, I'm not sure. There could be some serious liability problems there. But think about it...when was the last time you were on a swing? If it was recently, wasn't it uncomfortable? How awesome would it be to have swings that are higher off the ground and a little wider for 'mature' hips? Yeah. I thought so.

Imagine a slide that is long enough to be fun, wide enough to fit, and made of Teflon or something so that no one stuck to it. Also, it would not be made out of scorching hot metal, nor static-causing plastic. 

Monkey bars that are actually far enough up off the ground, and have squishy grippies so the bars don't hurt. It could be an entire freakin' workout. 

Also, plenty of four-square courts.

Food, Wine, and Monkeys. And Roller Coasters.

Today's BEDA theme is regarding one's dream vacation.

Ok. In my absolute wildest dreams, I want to stay here. I stumbled upon this resort while Tjett and I looked for honeymoon locales, or at least I think it was this place. Regardless, it was somewhere in Greece. Now here's the thing...while I'm sure I would love it, I think about it exactly like it is in the picture...perfect weather, and no one around. Adding ridiculous heat or rain and screaming children is definitely not in that fantasy.

Here's the thing...I really like the idea of a Caribbean/beachy/tropical vacation...except that I for real hate sand. Also, I can't swim. And I burn in about 2 seconds. So even though resorty places SOUND nice to me...I probably don't really want to go there.

So when I think about where I'd REALLY like to go, it's actually pretty simple. Yes, I'd like to go back to Italy. Yes, I'd love to visit Germany. But at the risk of sounding stupidly romantic, I just want to go somewhere with Tjett, where there's a nice hotel room (with a jacuzzi, even...and a balcony?), really good restaurants within walking distance, maybe a zoo, and maybe an amusement park. Like if we could combine Cedar Point with the Brookfield Zoo primate house. And some museums. And a spa?

Yeah Boyeeeee!

I don't so much have the energy to write a long ranting blog post today. When I do, I promise it'll be good. So for now, all I'll say is...Tjett and I ate at Flav's Fried Chicken on the way home from Iowa today. The chicken is actually pretty darn good...hot, tender, juicy, greasy (as fried chicken should be). The sides are another story. They were out of corn bread, greens, the hot, mild, and BBQ wing sauces, ribs, and most fountain drinks (that they substituted with 2-liters). Apparently the delivery guy came, but no one was there to pay him. Anyway, the mac & cheese was more like mushy noodles in "cheese"...really no worse than what you would expect at any fast-foodery, but we couldn't finish a small between us. The corn on the cob was likewise mushy. Also when we got there we were pretty sure they were closed...no lights, no cars in the parking lot. Turns out we had just gotten there a little before lunch rush. We took our pictures with one of the several air-brushed Flavor Flav likenesses on the wall. They're on Tjett's phone.

Blog Sometimes In April

Yeah...I've missed a few days. In my defense, I was very very very busy getting ready for my talk at my alma mater, Cornell College. Which I gave yesterday.

I'm not totally sure what to blog about. I don't have enough pictures for a photo essay (though I suppose I could post my entire talk and take out any text that is in there). I suppose that since I'm in Iowa, let's talk about that.

I love it here. I don't think I realized until this trip just how much I love Cornell...and how much I miss it. I had the fortune of talking to pretty much all of my favorite professors yesterday. Charley Liberko, my organic professor and all-around good man, was asking me about grad school. I don't remember exactly what I said, but he said, "well, you're smiling!" To which I replied, "that's because I'm here!" And then I just about started crying, because what I didn't say was, "Because I'm here...where I was successful, my professors were fabulous, I played lots of music with amazing people, I made some of the best friends I've ever had...and I've never felt more at home than I do when I'm here."

You know, I really hope that wherever Tjett and I end up settling will be 'home.' I really, really do. But in complete seriousness, I wish there was work for me here. If there was, I'm pretty sure...no, I'm totally sure...we would move back here in a heartbeat.

*sigh*

In awesome news, Tjett and I suggested that we have another pan reunion. Dr. Hearne, who is the band/orchestra/pans director and one of the reasons I love this place so much, was super excited and it very seriously considering having a 15-year Pandemonium anniversary at homecoming in '12. I'm a little worried that I will have just started a job somewhere and not be able to go...but I can't wait. We were invited to play with them tonight, but they do have a full band and it would be weird. But we got to mess around after the kids' rehearsal this afternoon, so I'm very happy :)

Also I got to see Becky and Sarah, and later on I'm hoping I'll get to see some other kids :)

I picked UConn to win. I am awesome.

Today's BEDA theme is 'best advice you've ever received." It took me awhile to think of anything...until I thought of advice pertaining to el puppy-o. Tia is mouthy and noisy. She tries to 'cute' us into doing stuff (mostly works on me), and usually the things she wants are:

1. Food
2. Outside
3. Food
4. Play
5. Food
6. My spot on the couch

And then there are times when she doesn't seem to want anything (other than food, and somebody's chubby enough already), and she just wants to be noisy. For a long time, Tjett and I had absolutely no idea what to do with her in these moments.

And then we took doggy class. I found doggy class to be very good for us, but it wasn't a 'miracle' cure or anything...I think it just got her used to doing things for us. Our instructor, Lisa, liked to think that Tia was basically the same as her Siber-Con, June. I'm sure they were similar, but they are certainly not the same dog. Lisa gave us a few tips for dealing with ridiculousness, including having her wear the head collar most of the time (did NOT work), and tethering her in the rooms (didn't really have any space or desire to tether her while we're in the same room).

But then she suggested Time-Outs. Time-Outs for Tia are not punishment; they're more a way to calm her down. Tia happens to LOVE her kennel...I'm totally serious. How we lucked out and got a dog who adores her kennel is beyond me, but she loves it in there. Sometimes she'll just go hang out in there, even if we're home. It's her room. And every time we leave, she gets a yummy Kong. It's to the point that she cannot wait for us to leave...she runs into her kennel, sits, and waits not-too-patiently for her Kong.

So anyway, if she's getting nuts for no apparent reason, we point and tell her 'kennel!' (or sometimes, even if we discuss 'does someone need a Time-Out?') and she runs in her kennel, we close the door, and we sit for awhile. Usually after about 15 minutes she is calm, and we let her out. More often than not, she's good for the night. When we started, she needed 3 or so a night...then it went to 3 or so a week...and now, we haven't needed to give one more than a few times in the last several months.

Hooray for Time-Outs!

I love you, Sam Rose.

A couple years ago, I had some trouble with my car. By 'trouble', I mean it wouldn't start. The AAA guy came out (if anyone has gotten their money's worth from AAA, it's me), re-charged my battery, and told me that I needed to get a new one ASAP because this one was on its last legs.

Which was super awesome news, because I was driving to Minnesota the next day. Which, from central Illinois, can be anywhere from an 8-hour trip with no traffic to a 12-hour trip when there is construction and traffic...and lunch in Madison with Becky :). So I made the decision that I would try to drive to MN, and get a battery there.

The car survived the trip up. My mom at the time lived in one of the worst cities ever, Wayzata. Wayzata is a fairly wealthy town, with a lake, yachts, mansions, and a very cute downtown with very cute little shops and very cute little restaurants. I say it's one of the worst cities because, as my brother so eloquently put it..."They're all a bunch of rich fucks."* My mom happened to work there, and so got an apartment in town. An apartment that she paid far too much for, that had constant problems, like the ceiling caving in from busted pipes that went unfixed for months on end. Ok, I'm not a fan. But I digress.

I took my car to the local auto-body shop, where they over-charged me for the battery, and then because they had to take out my washer fluid thingy, they charged me an arm and a leg for the labor. But I got my battery, and I was good to go.

So I thought.

Fast forward maybe 6 months. I went to my car...and the battery's dead. Crap. I called AAA, and they sent a guy over. He was very, very nice, and rather dreamy. By dreamy, I mean he had long hair and a Metallica t-shirt. He re-charged my battery (oh baby) and left. After letting my car run for 30 minutes or so, I turned it off and went back inside. About 10 minutes later I decided to go run some errands, so I went back to my car...and it didn't turn on. Super crap. I called AAA again. They sent the same guy over, who waved and grinned at me from his tow truck. He got out, and said, "you just wanted to see me again!" to which I smiled and shook my head. He tried re-charging my battery again, but it just wouldn't hold a charge. He thought it was the alternator**and towed my car to a nearby Meineke (which he recommended). As we were riding to the Meineke, we were chatting, and then he remembered something.

"Oh shoot, I was supposed to identify myself when I came over. 'Howdy, my name is Sam Rose and I'm from Tatman's Towing' and I'm here to tow your car."

"I kind of figured from the 'Tatman's Towing' truck."

So...I realize that that wasn't the most 'romantic' conversation I've ever had with a total stranger (that honor may have gone to the ex-con on the bus who felt up my calves), but I've been smitten with him since that day. Every time I need my car jumped I REALLY hope it's him. It hasn't been. And yes, Tjett is very well aware of my infatuation with Sam Rose, the tow truck guy.

Oh, and the problem with my car was that the fancy-schmancy mechanic in Wayzata who replaced my battery simply finger-tightened the leads, and they had come loose. Wanna know how much I was charged for the guys at Meineke to take out my washer-fluid thingy, figure out what was wrong with my battery and fix it?

Nada.


*Yes, I realize that not all people from Wayzata are jerks, and not all rich people are jerks. In fact, I rather hope to be one of them someday. But you must admit, there is a difference between a family having money and living in a nice home...and pretentious, blatant, overt displays of "wealth and status."

**I'm convinced that all men who are not mechanics really have no idea what is ever wrong with cars, and they use "it's the alternator" on every occasion just to sound manly.

My day in haiku: Food, doors, theft, doggy play-date; Research, basketball.

Delicious breakfast.
I had pancakes; Tjett, French Toast.
Eating there again.

"Hold the door for her!"
He said as he walked right past.
Chivalry is dead.

"Free sample:" Lady,
When nobody's at the booth,
You can't drink it all.

Tia, Little Bear.
Let's chew on each other's ears.
Now she is sleepy.

Help! My Cornell talk
Lacks Rhodamine spectra.
Procrastination!

Free appetizer!
The sole reason I STILL care?
I CALLED VCU!!! :(

BEDA Day 1: Well hello!

Hello! Today marks the first day of Blog-Every-Day-In-April. Since I am lousy at introductions, I figured I would give you little "Katie tidbits" in the form of one of those fancy poems, that I cannot for the life of me think what it's called. You'll understand:

BEDA: Introduced to me by Becky, one of the most creative people I have ever known!

Lasers: My livelihood. These are what I use in my research, which will someday give me a PhD?

Olives: I prefer green. The best I've ever had were in Italy, with some sort of awesome marinade. 

Green: My favorite color. (Which is not why I like green olives better than black; they just taste better.)

Evan's canal osteotomy: One of the procedures I recently had on my foot. Hence the surgery posts.

Voracious appetite: Man I love food!

Elizabeth: My middle name.

Rick-rolling: I still think it's funny.

Your mom: I still think it's an appropriate response to insults.

Dog: Her name is Tia. She is very grumpy that I can't walk or play with her for awhile. 

A blue rubber used-to-be-squeaky bone: Tia's "baby," and her very very favorite toy.

Yep, I dye my hair: Right now it's dark brown. I like it.

Industrial: I've had it for a year. I love it. I'm enjoying it while I can, before I have to look professional.

Nachos: A perfectly acceptable meal.

Alice in Chains: My favorite band, ever. I have mentioned them an embarrassing number of times.

Perrier: Overpriced, but I'm a fan. I just happen to like fizzy water... 

Running: I did for about 9 months before I broke. My goal is to start again in about 5 or 6 months.

Iced Tea (as opposed to Ice-T): Unsweetened. Definitely. Unless it's Jeremiah Weed Sweet Tea Vodka. Mmm, mmm.

Lut'ran: Oh sure, you bet. Hotdish and red Jello.

Surgery Post III: Things No One Told Me

Much like "Oh by the way, the reason you have a sore throat is because we shoved a breathing tube down your throat but we didn't want to tell you beforehand (see previous post)," there were definitely a few things that I wasn't expecting, because simply put, no one bothered telling me. Some are more serious than others.

• They put the nerve block in while you're still awake. The nerve block is a wonderful invention...I believe it's the same technology as an epidural, only instead of going in the spine, it went in my thigh to make just about my entire calf and foot totally numb so that when I got out of surgery, I would have next to no pain at all. I assumed this would be done while I was already unconscious. Nope! While awake. I have lots more to say about this, but that will be part of a later post.
• Peeing is REALLY hard. They had me use the bed pan for the first night. Part of it is, I'm sure, psychological...I've been actively, purposefully, NOT peeing in my bed for 23-odd years. But that aside, something about the anesthesia or the morphine simply makes it really, physically, difficult to pee. I have never had to concentrate so hard to pee before. And then, of course, as soon as my body 'remembered' how to go, I had to go every hour or two all night long. But even though I 'had to,' it was hard. 
• My toes look like plastic. So says my husband. My TOES are swollen. I had my plaster/gauze/Ace bandage splint replaced today with a sweet green cast, so I finally got to see my foot. There is so much swelling, but apparently it's perfectly normal. For some reason, I was not expecting this much.
• Oh, and, by the way, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO GIVE YOURSELF A SHOT EVERY DAY FOR THE NEXT 2 WEEKS. It's so I don't get a blood clot. That would be bad. I was wondering why I had gotten a packet in the mail, "How to Self-Inject," but since no one had cared to tell me, I didn't think much of it. I have lots more to say about this, too.

Surgery Post II: Pleasant Surprises

I had my appendix out when I was 10. While that wasn't exactly the highlight of my childhood, I think that having that experience made me a little less apprehensive about having this surgery. For example, I remembered that even if you were lucky enough to sleep well, nurses still came in to wake you every every 4 hours to check your vitals. I also wasn't surprised when I didn't keep down Jello and water. Thankfully though, there were a few things that I was either expecting to be awesome and WAS, or that I was dreading and it wasn't a big deal!

• The IV. The IV before went in my hand, but they put it in after I was out from the gas. All I know is that while it was in, my wrist hurt really bad and they had to put a splint on, rendering my hand useless. I was not looking forward to it. Well, this time around they put it in my arm, a couple inches below the wrist. Putting it in wasn't horrible, and I could actually use my hand without pain. One of the most painful parts of my previous trip to the hospital was when they took the IV out...this time, no problem. The area is still a little tender/bruised...but I'll take it.
• Anesthesia. Anesthesia, for me, is a trip. It's so much fun. When I was 10, they just gave me the gas, but I was looking forward to it from when I had my wisdom teeth out. It did not disappoint! You know on the edges of fluorescent lights, there are sometimes little round, plastic 'caps'? I really don't know how to explain them any better. Regardless, I definitely saw them fall. I asked the kind nurses/surgical staff if that was actually happening. "No Katie, that's just the anesthesia. The room will get kind of spinny." I looked around..."Nope, none of the rest of the room is spinning. Are you sure they're not actually falling?" Out.
• The Sore Throat. Coming out of appendix surgery, I was not surprised that my abdomen was sore. What DID surprise me was the super-duper sore throat. I was informed that it was because of the breathing tube that they used during surgery, that they didn't tell me about because if I knew about it, I would resist it (not totally sure how that would work considering I was passed out...). So I expected it this time. And I'm pretty sure they mentioned something about a breathing tube, so I was fully expecting to have a sore throat and eat lots of popsicles. Surprise, surprise...no sore throat! Huzzah!
• The Shot. I couldn't tell you what it was for, but following the appendectomy they gave me the most painful shot I've ever had in my life. Right in my thigh. I was very very very happy that that was not repeated.
• The Blowy Thingy. I think it was to ensure that you got all the anesthesia out of your lungs. I remember having to periodically blow...or actually no, I think I had to inhale...from this weird contraption. Lung capacity or something? The air tasted bad through all the tubes and made me cough. Following abdominal surgery, this was not fun. I realize that following foot surgery, it should not be a big deal. But I still didn't want to do it. Imagine my panic when my Parkland College nursing student, Tammi, asked if I had that yet. Apparently it's on every surgery patient's orders...but no one actually does it. Which is totally cool with me. I was getting all the oxygen I needed, and that's all that mattered to me.

Surgery Post I: A Call to Arms

I had foot surgery last week. I was originally going to write one big long post about it, but I tend to get bored writing them and I doubt anyone would actually want to read it. So I've decided to parse them out into several smaller posts. This way I'm more likely to finish them, and I can say 'look how productive I was today! I wrote a bunch of blog posts!'

So in this bite-sized edition, I just wanted to say THANK YOU to the million nurses and techs who made my life so much easier. I should probably send them a card.

Jaymie, Day Sam, Night Sam, Tomas, Tara, and Stella. There were probably others, but these are the people I remember the best. Jaymie was my day-time nurse. If life was Scrubs, she'd basically be a white Carla, a kind of no-nonsense-yet-very-caring nurse in charge. Sam was her tech. She was very sweet. I'm really, really thankful for Tomas, Tara, and Stella. Tomas was my first night-time nurse. Tara was my night-time tech, and Stella was Tomas' assistant. The first night was the worst. Tara and Stella cleaned me up when I threw up berry Jello and water, and did so not only without complaint, but also without making me feel like I was putting them out or making them do anything gross. Same with bed pans. Originally, Tomas just had the ladies help me with the bed pans, but at one point, all the ladies were on break, so he helped me out (with my permission). He was so incredibly professional and nice and I am so grateful. I don't know what they get paid, but it is NOT enough. These people are saints.

Things (I love and hate Thursday, Friday night edition)

Becky's latest post reminded me about Things I Love Thursday, which I can't say I often remembered to do during Blog Every Day in April (come on Katie, there were only 4 that you had to remember), but I thought oh hey, what the heck, maybe it's time for another.

But today was not a big 'love' day for me. It just wasn't. And so I present two lists.

Things I Hate, specifically right now.

• Skinny people without much luggage who sit on the outside seat on the bus. Riding on the bus is a necessity in this town. There is no way I'm paying the minimum $400 a semester to pay to park, and I'm just a little too far to walk regularly (and just not in good enough shape to bike to work, and right now it's too slippery to do so anyway). So I take the bus. Along with a million other people. A million other people who should have learned by now basic etiquette of bus riding. Our buses, like many city buses, have 8 or so rows of seats, two each on either side of the bus, with a center aisle in between. If the bus is close to empty, as my one bus often is, then feel free to splay yourself out in a full two seats. But as soon as you see that oh, there aren't any two-seaters left, YOU NEED TO PACK YOURSELF UP. I feel like this is super obvious, but apparently it isn't. On my second, busier bus today, the girl sitting in front of me was sitting on the aisle seat, making it impossible for someone else to sit down in the second seat. There are three, and only three, times when this is acceptable: 1) You are morbidly obese. It's irritating when you realize that you can't sit down because someone is taking up two seats, but it's forgivable. 2) You have just a crap-ton of stuff. I mean more than a backpack and a purse. I mean a backpack, a purse, three shopping bags, and a box of exams. This is also a forgivable offense. It happens. 3) The inside seat is wet or covered in something unsavory. I don't want to sit on that either. But any other time...get it together. Few things in life irk me more than a skinny person without too much stuff sitting in the aisle seat on a crowded bus. People have to stand. There is no excuse. Don't like crowds? Me neither. Have some serious 'personal bubble' issues? Get over it, or don't ride the bus.

• Grad School. I don't wanna talk about it. 'Nuff said.

• 'Open-minded,' 'liberals,' who bash Christians and Christianity as a whole. I just get so irritated and sad when people who supposedly are super open-minded and liberal like to say that it's impossible for Christians to be open-minded or liberal. As a liberal Christian, I can safely tell you...we do actually exist. There are Christians who will not tell you that you or anyone else will go to Hell. There are Christians who believe that two people, regardless of sex, should be able to be both legally and religiously married. Did anyone see that picture of the Christians in Egypt forming a protective 'wall' around the Muslims in Egypt to protect them while they were praying? Christians exist who believe that everyone has a right to practice their own religious practices. What got me going about this right now? Stay tuned for Things I Love, as there is a caveat...

• How I'm also expected as a liberal to smoke pot. Yeah, this is another one of those things. I've been noticing a lot lately that one of the things that liberals are supposed to find funny is pot use. All a comedian has to do is go 'so I was high' and the crowd goes nuts. I don't think it's funny. I think it smells bad, and I have other reasons for not wanting to partake. I do happen to think that it should be legalized...but not so I can go get high. More so we can tax the crap out of it, regulate it, and cut down on some of the drug wars going on. But I've never smoked it, and I have no interest in doing so, and I hate that as a liberal I feel like I have to explain that.

Ok. 'Nuff of that. 

Things I Love

• Fetch with Tia. Tia has this weird, really cute, way of playing. Sometimes it's a bit naughty; she really likes mouthing and grabbing, but my favorite are our games of fetch with her 'baby.' Her 'baby' is a blue rubber bone. She used to be kind of weird about playing with it, and she used to just carry it around. Now though, she's decided that it's the BEST TOY. Fetch with her baby is more like a combination game of fetch and tug. I throw the baby, she chases after it, brings it back, smooshes it into my legs, I grab it, we tug, she play-growls, half the time I get it, half the time I let her keep it. When she keeps it, she'll usually try to get me to tug it again. She gets up on her hind legs, she 'crawls' up me to get it (adorable in the winter, will get horrifying in the muddy spring)...I love it. 

• Two Bands: Mad Season and Tyr. Mad Season I've talked about before. It's a 'grunge supergroup,' comprised of Layne Staley and some other guys. From Pearl Jam maybe? Anyway, I got their CD from the library and have listened to it almost every day since. It. Is. Awesome. I'll do a bigger post on it another time. Tyr is a Viking Metal band that hails from the Faroe Islands. I don't have any of their albums, nor are they on iTunes, but they are on YouTube so I can listen to them at work. By far, their best songs are those that are in Faroese, but they tend to mostly be winners. My only beef with them is that they are decidedly anti-religion. Not Satanic or anything like that, but the lead singer likes to say at the end of his interviews 'and remember, religion is bullshit.' Apparently they're really upset about the Christianization of the Faroe Islands 999 years ago (or something), and quite a few of their songs involve Norse and neo-pagan mythos. Some of their music videos have them bashing crosses and stuff...supposedly it's because, you know, that's what Vikings did?...but I just wish that for once, I could find some good metal that doesn't have a problem with Christianity. Wishful thinking, I suppose.

• Tjett. He puts up with me. And he's super hotttt stuff :)

• Mushrooms. We made some chicken and mushroom marsala earlier this week. Um, delicious. It was my first time making it, and I was very proud of myself. It turned out really good, minus the sauce being very very liquidy. Is it supposed to be? I don't even know. But while making it, I had to taste the mushrooms to see if they were tender...ooooooh, mushrooms cooked in butter.....and the only thing better than mushrooms cooked in butter? Mushrooms cooked in butter THEN SOAKED IN WINE.

No day like a snow day

Pretty much the entire town is closed. They even canceled classes at the University. Frankly, we didn't really get very much snow from Winter Storm Abernathy, but we did a serious amount of ice pellets and graupel (a word I learned yesterday), so the plows weren't able to get out until this morning. The buses just resumed, but my route kind of skips me. I'd have to trudge only a few blocks, but it's a few blocks of unplowed ice and snow. And wind. Tjett can't get out of the driveway (the graupel makes it more like sand than snow), so I've made the executive decision to stay home for a bit.

A 'Skullet' is not a good look for anyone.

This was actually written back in late July/early August. I figured I was long past a blog post, and I felt bad I never finished this, because I thought it was interesting. Enjoy.

This past weekend I was fortunate enough to attend Central Illinois Metalfest with my brother, Nick, and his friend, Vaden. Not to be confused with his dog, Vader, who also visited. It turned out to be less confusing than it sounds.

Since I'm not really 'into' Metal, and truth be told I can't pick out a good band from a crappy band, I spent most of the time trying to figure out what was going on. These shows are really fun...even if you're not a huge fan of the music, live, it's a great time. I think I had more fun this year than last, and I was totally sober this year (I suppose some of that could be WHY it was more fun...I didn't puke in the bathroom, I didn't fall asleep, and I didn't go from drunk to hungover all in one night). This is not a compendium of Metal truths, nor is it to be taken as such. They are simply a neophyte's observations. And if someone reading wants to correct me...please do.

Music
From what I gathered, there are (at least) two types of Metal: Death Metal (Old School Fucking Death Metal) and Grindcore. CIM's website also advertised 'Black Metal,' but I couldn't tell you what that is. Grindcore seems to be popular, especially among the newer bands and younger fans. Nick prefers Death Metal to Grindcore. Grindcore is almost purely technical, while Death Metal has more cool guitar riffs. I think I also prefer Death Metal. For those of you totally unversed, the vocals are nearly exclusively growls, the almost-incomprehensible 'Cookie Monster' voice. The vocalists (almost exclusively men, but there are female vocalists, who, according to my brother are almost always 'gimmicks') generally either use a low growl, or a higher-pitched rasp, or sometimes a combination of the two. Occasionally there's 'harmony' between a couple of vocalists, that's pretty cool actually.

Most of the bands have 4 or 5 members: a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist or two and a vocalist or two, and often the vocalists are also guitarists. Though not always. And from what I can tell there's no feeling that those bands who have vocalists who don't play anything are any less talented. However, a handful of bands only have one member. This is not super common, but nor is it extremely rare. One of the most popular sets of the night was a one-man band called Putrid Pile (more on names later). He had a pre-recorded drum track, and then he played the guitar and did vocals. In one song he had his friend do vocals with him, but otherwise it was just him. And, again, I didn't get the impression that he was any less legitimate than any of the other bands.

Appearance
Standard apparel is the same for both the fans and the band members. For men, most common is jeans or shorts, any color (though dark washes and camo tend to be favorites) and black band t-shirts. Aside from those working the show, I think I saw one guy wearing a red t-shirt (though I'm pretty sure it may have also been a band shirt), and Vaden wore a navy band shirt. A couple of guys had just plain black t-shirts, and one guy had a 'Night of the Living Dead' black shirt. Hair is generally either long or shaved, and there's usually some amount of facial hair, most popularly in a grown-out goatee. The vocalist for Deceased (my favorite of the night; I even considered buying a shirt and/or CD from them) was a bit older, and probably at one point had an awesome head of hair. Unfortunately, he now has a huge bald spot. And very long hair. Not a good look. Putrid Pile, by comparison, was very clean-cut: he actually reminded me of Ben Lombardi from college, who is now, I believe, a 3rd-grade teacher.  It was a touch eerie.

The few women in attendance wore more varied things. I saw one or two girls much in the same dress as the men, though a few had somehow altered their band t-shirts to be tube tops over tank tops. I also saw a couple girls in very Hot-Topic-y dress, with fishnets and skulls and zippers. And then I saw some girls in much more 'club' attire, and they looked a bit out of place. Very cute, and very out of place.

Tattoos are widely popular. Piercings aren't prevalent, but they're not uncommon. And then usually they're just ear piercings.

Oh, and contrary to the Death Metal episode of Bones (Mayhem on a Cross, which happens to be on tonight), no one was wearing any kind of makeup. I mean the girls were wearing makeup, but no black-and-white stage makeup, or fake blood or anything, and I don't think any of the guys were wearing eyeliner. At all. That actually would have probably been considered a bit gay. More on that later, too.

Band Names
Band names are...well, they're creative. Here's a sampling:

Coathanger Abortion
Embryonic Devourment
Carnal Decay
Lecherous Nocturne
Incantation
Rottenness
Sadichist (whose guitarist is formerly of Gorgasm)
Putrid Pile, as mentioned
Deceased
Malevolent Creation

Typical names tend to have some element of death or decay, or even though I don't think many are actual theistic Satanists, some kind of demonic or at least anti-Christian connotation. I think that in my spare time, I'm going to come up with band names. How about Crucified Fetus? Or Necrotized Stab Wound?

Band t-shirts also have a definite 'look.' Similar fonts: spiky, often hard to read. Nick bought an 'Incantation' shirt, and I could have sworn at first that it said 'Incantatron.' Huge, colorful graphics that depict decaying bodies, demons, or bastardized Christian symbols. Many are actually quite beautiful, in their own kind of disturbing way.

Political and Religious Beliefs
Though I imagine not everyone shares these beliefs, based on conversations with my brother and Vaden,  and some shirts I saw, it seems pretty standard. Unfortunately, it's a fairly racist, misogynist, anti-Semitic, and homophobic culture. I'm assuming they're mostly libertarian, "conservative" but no neo-con, Christian, 'family-first' attitude. Quite the opposite, actually. As I mentioned before, I don't think too many of them are actual theistic Satanists--it's more of a, 'we all think Christianity is stupid and horrible and Satanic imagery is the most opposite of Christianity than we can think of.'

________

Here is where I stopped writing, for whatever reason. Probably because it was getting long, most likely because Tia was being bratty. Anyway, I think one big point I was going to make is that even if I could REALLY get into the music, I could not be REALLY a part of the culture, especially due to the last point.