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A Boy and His Dogs

>> Thursday, December 10, 2009

Something like 8 years ago, when I first tried to convince my husband that we needed to get a dog, he was less than enthused.  "Honey, I'm a cat person," he'd say.  "Can't we just make do with the cat?"

There's no denying he's a cat person.  He definitely shares a bond with the feline members of our household.




But this was a guy who grew up with a profoundly stupid black lab named Bow who worshiped him and followed him everywhere he went.  As he was home schooled, I really mean everywhere.  They spent 24/7 together, except for the few moments during the day in winter when Bow slept under (yes, I really mean under) the hot wood stove.

So I knew deep down my husband was a dog person, too.  I just needed to encourage him a little.

I think the following photos depicting a standard winter evening in our house pretty much tell the story of just how much he isn't into dogs. 

The hounds discover there's a man down at their level:



And come in for a lick fest:






There's a pause for slime removal:






And the fun begins again:









Nah.  He doesn't like dogs at all.

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Dead Fingers and Toes

>> Wednesday, December 9, 2009

I whine a whole lot on this blog about how much I hate cold weather.  One of the reasons I hate cold is that my fingers and toes are extremely sensitive to cold - moreso than most people's.  I have Raynaud's (pronounced "Ray-Nodes") Disease, which isn't as serious as it may sound, but it's SERIOUSLY ANNOYING.

Whenever my extremities (hands, feet, nose) get cold, they start going completely numb in random spots.  They turn a disgusting translucent sort of white, and eventually a lovely shade of purplish blue.  Once they start warming up they turn an amazing livid shade of orange.  If they stay blue long enough, it hurts like hell to warm them up again.

I didn't plan ahead long enough for this blog post, so all I have are photos of a very mild white phase to show off.  Spot the two white finger tips:


I need to try to capture the blue and orange phases with the camera.  It's much more dramatic.  It's not consistent which spots turn what color when - each time is different.  It's extra special when I have all three colors going at once.  I'm like that weird creature who keeps changing the color of his spots in the children's book "Put Me in the Zoo" by Robert Lopshire. 

My husband refers affectionately to my fingers and toes in the white and blue phases as being "dead," based on their resemblance to a corpse.  His term of endearment has stuck, largely because he's right.  They're creepily corpselike.


I first encountered Raynaud's when I was in college - my junior year abroad at Oxford, to be precise.  One of my friends kept experiencing the weird color changes and finally got the diagnosis of Raynaud's.  If there's one thing the British don't do like the Americans it's heating buildings, and I suspect the perpetually frigid indoor temperatures are what caused Melanie's Raynaud's to be so apparent that year.  My personal experience with Raynaud's didn't start until several years later, for no apparent reason.

From what little research I have done, I have been able to gather that scientists don't know much more about the mechanisms of Raynaud's than I do.  They know the weird discolorations and numbness are caused by vasospasms, meaning the blood vessels contract and restrict blood flow.  It's far more common in women than in men, and is most often seen in women "of child bearing years".  It's often linked with other diseases, particularly autoimmune diseases and hypothyroidism.  It also has been linked to repetitive stress injuries, smoking, certain drugs, and chemical exposures. 

But what is it?  Is it autoimmune itself?  Why do the blood vessels restrict - where are the neurological commands to restrict coming from and why?  No answers yet.  I shall try to refrain from grumbling about the lack of effort that seems to be spent on researching diseases that affect women more than men.  Oops - too late.  I guess I already did.  :)

Thankfully, it's not terrifically serious for most people.  The "treatment" for me is to warm up the extremities before the lack of blood flow has had time to do any damage, which typically is not hard.  I spend extra money on super warm socks and mittens and boots, and tend to carry pocket hand warmers with me all winter, and whenever we're hiking, just in case. 

However, I admit to having twisted nightmarish fears about not warming my hands or feet up in time.  I worked for a while in my past as a Federal Court law clerk handling prisoner cases, including a few claims by prisoners related to Raynaud's.  The folks making the claims were heavy smokers and in ill health, but the vivid descriptions of ulcers that wouldn't heal, gangrene, and amputations stayed with me.  Vividly.

On that cheerful note, I think I'm running a little low on hand warmers.  Time to stock up!

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No! Say it ain't so!

>> Tuesday, December 8, 2009

~~~~Part 1~~~~


Headlines on Monday screamed the following:

"EPA: Greenhouse gases are harmful to humans

AP  WASHINGTON - The Environmental Protection Agency took a major step Monday toward regulating greenhouses gases, concluding that climate changing pollution threatens the public health and the environment." 

Um, that should not be news.  Nor should the EPA just be announcing that now.  I did not realize they had not made that "announcement" previously.  Sometimes it disgusts me how political agencies are.  EPA announcing greenhouse gases might be bad for people and the environment strikes me as tantamount to the CDC announcing that H1N1 can make people sick, or Ben Bernanke announcing that the economy contracted a titch in 2008.

I saw this earth shattering headline on the heels of listening to an NPR story that noted the percentage of Americans who believe in global warming is dropping, and is now hovering around 50%.  See article here.  Apparently the scientific agency is listening to public opinion rather than its own scientists.

Oy.  


I consider myself to be fairly jaded and cynical, but this "announcement" by EPA actually caught me off guard. 

Time to ramp up the cynic-o-meter so I'm not surprised next time.


 ~~~~Part 2~~~~



Then parts of this story just plain made me laugh:

"Decking the Halls Can be a Hazard to Your Health"

For those of us who are accident prone, this is not news any more than the announcement that greenhouse gases are harmful is news.  For me, anything presents a possibility of a mishap causing bodily harm.  Add a bunch of extra doo-jobbies and whoozie-whatsits (many of which are made of glass) to the house for me to knock over, trip over, or fall on, and there's bound to be an injury.

The stories about kids getting hurt and the few bits about people getting seriously injured weren't funny, I admit.  But some of the other stories were funny, intentionally or not.

The tidbits that spoke to me the most: 


"On Dec. 12, 2008, a 40-year-old woman tripped over her dog while decorating her Christmas tree and fractured her shinbone." 

Hell, I trip over my dogs and cats while going down the stairs, while cooking with sharp implements, while walking them on rough pavement, while hauling armloads of wood into the house, and while carrying fragile objects.  We joke that they are going to cause death or serious injury at some point, and it's a miracle it hasn't happened yet.  It's inevitable.  I'm not certain holiday decorations even increase the tripping odds - they're about maxed out already in this household, with its 19 paws, 5 tails, and a stump.

"Every year, Dr. Ryan Stanton, a spokesman for the American College of Emergency Physicians, treats at least a couple of injuries caused by so-called “wrap rage,” frustration sparked by people trying to open securely wrapped packages. “I recommend using something a little bit smaller and a little bit safer than the biggest butcher knife you can find,” said Stanton.

Eh hem.  Um, yeah, that would be me, too.  (sheepish grin)  Miss Impatience.  Spouse is constantly removing sharp objects and whatever I'm trying to get into (cans, squash, plastic packaging, cardboard boxes...) from my hands with a look of horrified disbelief on his face.

Holiday Season 2009 resolution:  to limit injuries to the uncontrollable (hound chasing spazzing cat under feet causing me to pitch headlong into Christmas tree with my arms full of overflowing eggnog glasses) instead of the ludicrously stupid (slicing off hand with butcher knife while trying to open $#^&*%! package of AA batteries).

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On Being Santa Claus

>> Monday, December 7, 2009

I spent my entire weekend shopping:  Regional Market, grocery store, natural food store, big mall, outlet mall, another mall, Target, toy store...   Aside from the food it was all holiday-related.  I'm not generally a big holiday shopper, so I think I've kind of overdosed on "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and "White Christmas" and all the other cheezy Christmas carols they've been piping into the stores since October.

Most of our shopping this weekend was for an "adopted" family in need.  This year my husband and I decided to adopt a family that can't afford much for Christmas through an organization called PEACE, Inc.  We have no kids of our own, and our thought was that we'd feel way better getting things for people who need them, rather than getting ourselves things we don't need and feeling guilty about it later.  

I figured it would be gratifying.  What I did not realize was how unbelievably fun it would be to do the shopping, despite 47 versions of Rudolph, half of which were sung in piercing child or Alvin and the Chipmunks voices.

Our adopted family has 3 little girls ages 3, 4, and 5.  All we got was ages, sizes, and brief wish lists.  Reading through the girls' lists, we realized quickly that we would be shopping for extremely girlie girls.  Their requests included the following:

Barbie dolls
Barbie car
Barbie accessories
baby dolls
baby doll clothes
baby doll accessories
tea set
play dishes
My Best Friend dolls  (It turns out My Best Friend dolls look to my unpracticed eye much like Barbies only are sold out everyplace.)

I felt a little out of my league looking at that list.  I may have been a girl once, but I swear I was never that much of a girl!  I can only imagine the amount of pink in that household.

We bought them a number of the requested toys.  Of course, we got each of the kids things they need, too, including warm coats, mittens, pajamas, and winter clothing.  We - ah - added to their pink collection a fair bit.  It turns out it's hard to find girls' clothing that isn't pink.  Here's hoping they really do like it.  We bought the adults a few gifts from their wish lists, too.  Here's the total haul:


You should see how many boxes that equates to.  I'm not sure how we're going to stuff them all back into the car for transport to the drop-off location.

I used to have to drag my poor husband shopping for clothes for my niece and was worried this would be the same.   Instead, he was adorably excited about this shopping.  I suspect it probably has to do with memories of his own Christmases as a kid - some years there wasn't much to go around. 

We agonized over the clothing and the toys, wanting to make sure each kid got the same amount and quality of everything.  People at the outlet mall were particularly helpful and kind.  We inevitably had to ask the sales associates for advice on sizes, and when they found out what we were doing they concocted mixes of coupons and discounts to help us out.  We still spent a small fortune.  I can't believe how expensive it is to manage a fairly modest Christmas for three kids, even with a lot of bargain shopping!

I also can't believe how long it takes to wrap all that.  I've spent three hours on it thus far, and have probably a quarter of it left.  There are kinks in my spine that may never come out from crouching over boxes and paper and bows for that long.  At least I can play non-shopping-mall Christmas carols that I like while I'm wrapping.

I guess I have new-found respect for my parents - Christmas is a lot of work.

I think we shall make this a Christmas tradition.  For the first time in years I feel like there's a real point to the holiday.  I just might have gotten more out of this than the family we adopted.

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