Menopause

Image by betsyjean79 via Flickr

I’ve heard that women going through menopause experience changes in their hormone levels that cause mood swings. Since I’m a recent inductee to this club I can say from my own personal experience that this is rubbish. It isn’t the hormone levels that cause us to be crabby, we’re just pissed off because  we dressed and undressed all night long…on the hour, every hour and we don’t have any new clothes to show for it.

***I’ve nixed the automatic link that appeared below my post… skip going to the doctor, skip the prescription for hormones instead try increasing your soy intake. Asian women don’t experience hot-flashes and the reason is thought to be dietary. For other natural cures visit my favorite online resource at www.earthclinic.com

 

Define Frivolous?

Image by thinkpanama via Flickr

Ten years ago I developed a strange cough and thought I had pneumonia. After doing a weeks worth of laundry and finding it increasing difficult to breath I went across the street to the hospital emergency room and I waited my turn to be seen. After explaining my difficulty breathing I was sent to the waiting area by the triage nurse where I waited for nearly 2 hours before seeing a physician.

The attending physician initially thought it was a virus too but stopped short of letting me leave. He said earlier in the week he almost skipped having a patient’s lung X-ray but when he did he discovered that the patient’s lung was partially collapsed. Still rattled by how close he was to sending that guy home, he elected to have me sent to X-ray before he’d release me. Like the patient he saw earlier that week, my lung was partially collapsed. The attending physician told me that surgery would be preformed in E.R. as soon as the surgeon arrived in the building.

I had three kids at home and a job to go to in the morning, I was expecting a prescription not emergency surgery. I called my mother who drove 2 hours to get to my kids and within minutes of my phone call the surgeon arrived. Without anything to dull the pain, the surgeon sliced a hole between my ribs and punched a tube through the hole and into my lung. The pain was so blinding that I have no conscious recollection of several minutes.  The tube was hooked to an atrium… a box that was hooked to oxygen that re inflated my lung.

I remained in the hospital and after about a week a nurse came into my room and asked if she could show a group of student nurses the equipment used to keep my lung from collapsing and I agreed. After she came in with the class and explained things to them she turned to me and said, “I’m just going to shut this off for a minute.” I was well aware of the doctor’s orders and I knew that my lung was to remain ventilated at all times. The nurse was so insistent on shutting my lung down that the whole experience seemed more like a scene from Saturday Night Live. I was waiting to be filled with helium and float to the ceiling.  I said, “you can’t shut that off, my lung will collapse,” and she replied, “but it will only be for a little while.”  I refused.

It was my very first indicator that I should pay careful attention or I might just end up dead.

Days later the tube was removed in  hopes that the hole in my lung had resealed itself. When the tube was pulled back out I felt the air from my lung vent out the hole in my side, like a whale with a blowhole.  A second emergency surgery had to be preformed and a second cut was made so another tube could be punched into my lung.

It was apparent that my lung wasn’t going to re-seal itself as everyone had hoped. After an MRI my surgeon said that my lungs were covered in blisters and that it would have to be surgically re-sectioned. As I counted down the days to having my entire chest cavity pried opened with a rib spreader, I was given a medication that my chart said I was allergic to. It left me almost unconscious and it took awhile for me to tell staff that I wasn’t sleeping,  but rather, nearly unconscious from an allergic reaction.  Shortly thereafter, a minister came and read me my last rights because they would be operating so close to my heart that it was standard procedure. I heard the minister but couldn’t wake up. At that point,  I thought I was going to die and they were going to kill me because they were stupid.

On  the day of my lung surgery I was awake and alert because the nurses straightened out my meds but only after I told them to. My mother and younger sister waited with me in the hospital room  as surgery loomed. The doctor had given the nurses strict orders that I was not to be off of oxygen before surgery.

When they took me off of the oxygen in my room they were supposed to transfer me onto a portable oxygen tank for the trip to surgery, right away. The nurses shut down the oxygen to my lung, moved me to the gurney and then realized that they had no idea how to operate the oxygen tank. I sat on the edge of the gurney as nurses ran up and down the halls searching for someone who knew or had instructions. One nurse flipped open a cell phone and started calling around, expanding her search to those on other floors,  frantically searching for anyone who could offer instructions.

During this 20 to 30 minute ordeal I sat without oxygen and I was overdue for surgery. What was so appalling was that maintaining good standing as a nurse took precedent over my health and safety. The nurses could have hooked me back up to the oxygen in my room, but we were already late for surgery. They could have rushed me to surgery without oxygen and faced the consequences of their incompetence, and at least gotten me to surgery and into the hands of someone who could re-inflate my lung. This could have been accomplished in minutes but instead I sat for nearly a half hour without oxygen.

Since I had taken a couple of walks during my month-long hospital stay I had watched as someone operated the tank  but wasn’t confident I knew how. Given the obscene amount of time that had already passed, my guess seemed slightly more educated than anything they were coming up with, and at least I knew that my health was my priority when it clearly wasn’t theirs.

I pointed to the tank and said, I think you do XY and Z . I was afraid I was wrong and some blast of air would explode my lung or the room would blow up but no such thing happened. My lung re-inflated and the nurses rushed me to the operating room and never mentioned the length of time I spent without oxygen. What was shocking to me was that in a group of 5 to 6 trained nurses not one of them placed my safety ahead of their performance records. It didn’t even dawn on them that their priorities were not only wrong but that they were risking my life to protect themselves from well-earned disciplinary action.

In 1999, during that same year,  the Institute of Medicine estimated that up to 98,000 people die every year in American hospitals from medical errors. That number is staggering, yet right now, Congress is weighing whether or not to strip patients of their right to hold negligent medical practitioners accountable.   I happened to be one of the lucky ones who is still here to say:

Congress should  focus on improving patient safety; saving lives saves money…and there is nothing frivolous about stupidity that leaves your children to grow up without you.

Sign the petition:  http://action.citizen.org/t/6693/campaign.jsp?campaign_KEY=27870

Adverse Reaction to Swine Flu Shot?

Vaccine injury has been so prevalent that U.S Dept of Health and Human Services established the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program which as of October 1, 1988, also includes the National Childhood Vaccine Injury Act of 1986.

According to statistics some 4,000 people fell ill after taking the swine flu vaccine in 1976; 500 contracted a paralyzing nerve disorder and more than 30 people died. Some military personnel and first responders who took the smallpox vaccine in 2003 suffered heart attacks, increased risk of heart inflammation and neurological disorders.

Ordinarily, when our government grants liability exemptions to pharmaceutical companies, it provides some form of relief for consumers who are injured by vaccines. For example, the 1976 Swine Flu Act allowed those who had bad reactions to that vaccine to sue the government under an expanded version of the Federal Tort Claims Act. In 2003, the government set up a compensation plan for people injured by the smallpox vaccine after people refused to get vaccinated without it. And then as mentioned earlier, the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program has been available for children suffering bad reactions to childhood vaccines.

Unfortunately, if you or your child is injured from getting a swine flu shot, you are on your own. Congress has shielded the vaccine manufacturers and any person giving swine flu shots from lawsuits and there is no funded government vaccine injury compensation program for swine flu vaccine.

http://www.hrsa.gov/Vaccinecompensation/statistics_report.htm http://www.hrsa.gov/Vaccinecompensation/table.htm

Cupcake

Single-Payer Healthcare: Democrats Find Your Spine

I’ve stolen the following lines from the character, A. J. MacInerney in the movie The American President because they apply to our President on health care reform.

A. J. MacInerney to the President:
Oh, you only fight the fights you can win? You fight the fights that need fighting!

Put Single Payer back on the table

The Efficacy of the Flu Vaccine

Bloom Where You’re Planted

Author Claire Cook considers herself a late-bloomer having published her first novel in her mid-forties. I knew of Claire’s work because I read the second book she wrote, Must Love Dogs and then picked up a copy of every book that followed.

Years later I met Claire online on the Goodread.com website. Our conversation started after Claire visited my online journal and read some of my writing. At the time I had just written “I Forgot that Sunflower’s Die,” which was just a few lines that touched upon the death of my daughter’s father. Claire had also lost a parent as a child and she shared her story which had recently been published in Good Housekeeping magazine.

Since then Claire’s periodically sends a note cheering on my writing, and with each book she writes I’m reminded that it’s never to late to follow your heart.

Whether you find yourself writing at a child’s swim practice or in the humid, hum of a bustling laundry mat, remember to love what you have and to bloom where your planted.

Here is Claire Cook’s interview on the Today Show…well done, girl:)

well

Are You Kidding???

I was dumbstruck by some of the news headlines today:

Wife seeks divorce after husband poops in cooking pots

Kansas couple’s trash bin tryst takes wrong turn

Police in Papua New Guinea are hunting the leader of a sex cult who promised villagers a bumper banana harvest if they had sex in public.

Maybe the Kansas couple should take up residence in Papua New Guinea.

Today, a German Girl

After over a month of harvesting and roasting  Roma tomatoes for Marinara sauce, I have turned back to my own German ethnicity. After chopping and salting red and green cabbage I have started the fermentation process to make homemade sauerkraut using crocks like my Grandmother used to.

I’ve embedded the follow Youtube clip to illustrate how easy it is to make:

Ein Hoch auf gutes Essen und gute Gesundheit!

Matchless

Image via Wikipedia

Today was my first day  without a Match.com account, as of yesterday I officially let my 30 day membership expire. Instead of investing time into flirting with complete strangers I woke up, made a To-Do List for the next month, texted a flirt from my phone, returned a pair of shoes to a department store then purchased 2 more…damn!

Gnocchi with roasted tomato sauce anyone?

(Italian food in honor of the Italian inspired Volkswagen Karmann Ghia I saw today…for sale on the side of the road…sigh. Cheers to the styling concept created for Ghia by Luigi Segre. Karmann Ghia…meow!)

I Forgot that Sunflower’s Die

The sunflowers were in bloom today, the ones my daughter and I planted as a memorial to her dad. One flower bloomed weeks before the others, then it slumped over and hung its head. My heart hurt. As I walked to the house I wondered how I would face the remaining 50. I wondered if my garden would look like the people who stood in rows at his funeral. I forgot that sunflowers hang their heads when their season has ended. I forgot that sunflowers die.

The Death of Stemware: Giving Saloon Nukie a Whole New Meaning

The New York Times Diners Journal reported on a new restaurant opening tomorrow called La Cave des Fondus. La Cave des Fondus is an American replication of the French restaurant Montmartre restaurant Le Refuge des Fondus an establishment where customers are served red and white wine in plastic baby bottles.

The Manhattan restaurant is owned by Jacques Ouari who told the New York Times, “I wanted to set up my place exactly like the one in Paris. It’s such a fun place. Everybody loves drinking beer and wine from baby bottles – even my father thought it was fun – and I think New Yorkers will like it too. I checked with the health department and as long as we put the bottles in the dishwasher they have no problem with it.”

Waitresses working for Hooters will without question feel the most pressure in light of the new trend, fearing the infantile digression will expand to increase the demand for breastfeeding. The Le Leche League has yet to comment on the increased use of plastic baby bottles but insiders expect that the group will issue a press release in the days to come capitalizing on the opportunity to reaffirm the health benefits of breast feeding.

While not yet known, a growing number of diners believe the type of nipple used by La Cave des Fondus will be a determining factor as to the ultimate success or failure of the new establishment. The Nuk, or as it is more commonly referred Nukie, is considered by many to be the best compliment to any alcoholic beverage.

***It should be noted that the Parisians establishment serves wine in baby bottles to avoid the French tax on wine served in glasses. While Parisians most likely appreciate this little tax dodge and go along with the slap-in-the-face humor, the activity may not hold the same charm with New Yorkers since the baby bottle will incur the same tax as an elegant piece of stemware.

Today I Want…

Today I want winter to end and menopause to begin. I want to take a long walk in warm weather. I want to read a book on the back patio while sipping wine and roasting Red Crab on the grill. I want Amish Snap Peas from my garden, I want the house to fill with the garlicky smell of Roma tomatoes roasting. I want the windows open, I want my sheets to dry on an outdoor clothesline. I want to fill a basket with fresh organic asparagus then fold it into a bed of Parmesan Fettuccine. Today I want my bare feet to feel the earth.

Free Annette Yeomans, Jail Bernie Madoff

Bernie Madoff isn’t in jail but Annette Yeomans is? Yeomans is the bookkeeper who embezzled millions and purchased over 400 pairs of shoes.  If Bernie Madoff’s crimes aren’t serious enough to warrant tossing him in jail, surely any civilized person with an appetite for shoes could understand Yeomans weakness.

I mean lets be honest,  it’s not like any of us went to see Sex and the City to witness Carrie Bradshaw and Big’s wedding. We went for the clothes, we went for the shoes, we went to see a fictitious and mythical man give a woman a really BIG closet.

When I first heard of Yeomans crime and the 400 pairs of shoes my heart  skipped a beat just thinking about a room fill with that many shoes! All the different styles and designers she could slide her feet into, I sighed. There are things that I can live without but there are  also things that just shouldn’t be missed.

To hell with ballet flats and kitten heels… give me legs that go on forever!

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Minnesota Spring

Alexa has been sick. As she makes her slow recovery I’ve taken her on car rides to no where in particular, just to get her out of the house for a short time. I love our drives, I love the rural landscape all around me. I especially love this time of year because after so many months of seeing nothing but blankets of white, the gold and green patchwork farmland that spills to meet the cerulean blue sky takes my breath away.

As I was driving I wanted to describe the view to someone I’ve been exchanging letters with and this is what I wrote:  To Mark in AZ.

Round, tractor tire-sized bales of flaxen hay dot the landscape as periwinkle sheets of rain daub the western horizon.

On swizzle stick legs baby calves lean into the misty April breeze.

One calf is the color of oatmeal and I name him Norman.

He stands still as a Bonnie Mohr painting.

His eyes are black like buttons floating on soft peaks of whipped cream.

With his jaw high he faces spring as the wind smooths his downy fur from his eyes.

A nearby tractor awakens the earth as the Midwest wind twirls her,  sleepy and unexpectant.

Dusty plumes roll and scatter as her dark rich scent whispers her fertility to the wind.

Naked trees watch shivering impotently.

A gust blows and Norman’s mother calls.

On new legs Norman runs.

Blue sky, red barn and the gentle color of Norman; my American landscape.

How to Recognize GM Produce in the Supermarket

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Often the fruits and vegetables sold in the supermarket carry a sticker with a PLU code, that code doesn’t just tell the cashier how to ring up your produce it tells you how the food was grown and whether or not it was genetically modified.

Produce that has been conventionally grown consists of 4 numbers and organically grown produce has 5 numbers prefaced with the number 9.  The PLU code on produce that has been genetically modified also has five numbers but the number is prefaced with the number 8.

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How I’d Improve the American Education System

My daughter is immune deficient and has been an online high school student for about 2 years. I think the best and most cost effective solution to improving the American education system is to build a hybrid that blends the best online education has to offer in a public school setting.

Here’s how it could work:

Each student is provided a laptop computer to work off of  and they independently study digital textbooks, watch podcasts on  subjects they are studying and complete assignments, all within an online learning environment.

At first blush it doesn’t sound earth shattering but consider these net impacts:

The use of podcasting would allow the US Dept of Education (DOE) to hire the worlds best and brightest educators to deliver the curriculum because the person doesn’t need to be in each classroom to teach students. (Imagine  Stephen Hawking podcasting a high school physics course.) Such a change in the delivery of material would allow the US DOE to establish uniformity in the quality of instructors and instruction being provided to all schools EVERYWHERE regardless of the communities financial health. On site teaching staff can then focus on the students who are struggling and need additional instruction.

An education hybrid of public and online education would also allow the US DOE to offer a huge variety of courses to ALL schools everywhere regardless of who is available in that geographic location to teach. As a public school student my daughter could choose from a couple foreign languages, as an online student in rural Minnesota she studied Mandarin Chinese.

Even more important, these courses are self paced, students can move through coursework as quickly as they like or they can take the the time they need. Unlike the current industrial model of education, a 9th grader could work well above grade level while remaining grouped among his or her peers, students could even graduate early and or start college from the very same classroom environment. This would mean that the best and the brightest in our country would no longer have to wait for average learners to catch up and it can all be done within the confines of a single classroom.

Individual schools could allow rural students  the option of attending in person or online cutting the need for additional space and busing. Students with health problems, like my daughter, could still attend their local school by attending online when they are sick. School districts could eliminate the need for home-bound tutors, substitute teachers and even snow days.

Digital textbooks are cheaper to produce than standard textbooks and easier to update without mowing down a forest. They are also hyperlinked to dictionaries and wikipedia’s should students needs more information to grasp a given concept. Whereas a standard textbook might have offered a photo of an Egyptian tomb, in online schooling teachers can podcast an actual tour inside a tomb where students can pan the interior of the tomb right from their computer.

As as a parent of an online student I can log on and see the teachers grade books, I can see how my student scored on each assignment and I can see how much time she is spending studying each subject. This allows me as a parent a clearer view of daughter’s education and more importantly, her work habits.

The post-industrial model I’m suggesting also relieves the pressure on overburdened instructors and quells the issue of classroom size by allowing the human resources within our education system to concentrate on the areas they are most needed.  Even better, this model would allow the US to deliver the highest, most uniform standard of education to learners everywhere regardless of how wealthy or impoverished their community. Equal education could truly mean equal quality and an equal opportunity regardless of geography and its highly likely we’d save money doing it.

Spring Rain

The garden finally got tilled this afternoon and by the length of the nap I took afterward you would have assumed I was the one who labored over it.  As the yard serviceman tilled the very last row of my garden drops of rain dotted my face and hair as cracks of thunder rumbled across the afternoon sky. I intended to work inside of the house but was  so sleepy that I climbed the stairs to my room instead. As the rain tapped against my window Simon & Garfunkel’s Kathy’s Song played in my head until the space filled with strange dreams.

The Cat’s Sleepwear

Image via Wikipedia

My fingers are blue,  my feet are cold and so is my nose. It’s May and the area forecast says temperatures will dip below freezing tonight. Depsite the high winds and the cold air I’ve already managed to spend enough time outdoors to induce the reappearance of freckles on my nose and cheeks, wasn’t I supposed to out grow them, I don’t know, when I was 7!!!

Last weekend I participated in the city-wide garage sale, the weather turned cold and I’ve been fighting fatigue and a sore throat ever since.  I have so many things to do and I seem to require more than my share of naps lately, I’m begining to feel like the cat…actually I’m begining to behave like the cat, except his sleepwear looks warmer than mine:)

Ant Jumps off Ledge

Is it just me or is it unusual to see an ant jump off the edge of something as opposed to walking down the side of it. Any other species okay but it didn’t seem very ant like.

My son said it was probably a phenomena like Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), leave it to Nick to dish up some  run of the mill theory. I naturally asked what CCD was and he said it was when worker bees stop working and leave hive.  I laughed…I’m still laughing… its sounds so postmodern. Of course bees are exhibiting disorders because Pfizer has a pill right?  Send them to bee therapy because they keep getting passed over for promotions.

Wiki sites among possible causes GMO’s with pest control (can’t imagine that being an issue) or cell phone radiation (really its negligible!)

But truthfully, if anyone in my house needs therapy it’s the cat, he lies.

Food Irradiation: City Pages, Let Them Eat Shit

And That Ends the Entomology Lesson…

About a year ago my son, Ben called from his apartment in a Minneapolis suburb, he had just returned from a week of camping at an outdoor concert when he noticed a massive beetle about the length of his hand on his bag. He thought it was dead so he poked it. The beetle began vibrating, opened its massive wings and took a flying leap to his wall.

Ben was quite on the phone for a minute then said…”yeah,” in a low quiet voice, pausing again, “…all I could do was scream.” He paused, “I gave the guy down the hall beer to kill it”

Yesterday, my oldest son Nick called me over to an area of the driveway where a similarly large beetle had landed on the dogs rear end before falling to the ground. It reminded so much of the beetle Ben described that I decided to take a picture and see if it was the same bug and maybe even find out what kind of beetle it was.

As I snapped the camera the beetle vibrated, opened its wings and took a flying leap at me.  Like my son,  I screamed, so loud that all noise from activity in the neighborhood went silent including the birds and the only audible sound was Nick mumbling “…and that ends the entomology lesson.”

Oberstar Tweets

Several weeks ago, after reading a legislative update from Minnesota Congressman Jim Oberstar, I emailed him and suggested that he consider tweeting some of his updates on Twitter. Today I received the following reply:

Ms. Jody Scott-Olson

Royalton, Minnesota 56373-0184

Dear Ms. Scott-Olson:

Knowing of your interest in a Twitter account for me where you can be updated on current legislation and other relevant issues, I am pleased to report that you can now follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/JimOberstar.

With best wishes.

Sincerely,

James L. Oberstar, M.C.

Pushing a Turtle

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Today I drove around a corner near my Mother’s house, which is on the Mississippi River, and slammed on my brakes. There was an enormous turtle sunning in the middle of the road and I stared at it from the top of my steering wheel hoping it would get busy and cross the street. He didn’t, so I got out of my car, leaving it in the middle of the narrow road to stop anyone coming around the corner from hitting me or the turtle.

First I tried shuffling my feet behind him hoping to spook him into running for the ditch. Apparently, he noticed the size of my shoes. Instead of running he turned towards my feet confident that his 2 foot mass trumped my size 5 sandal. He hissed and I think he even growled, a noise that would have made my dog run sideways away from him. Not that that is saying much since Jack has been known to runs sideways when the kids burp but you get the idea. We keep telling him to tell himself that he’s a big brave dog…whatever.

I briefly considered wishing the very large turtle  the best of luck and leaving, but he was so extraordinarily large that abandoning him, regardless of how disagreeable I found him, would never be right. In light of the green swamp slim covering his back, the 2 inch claws on all 4 of his limbs and my neatly pressed white blouse, carrying him seemed unsafe, unsanitary and was otherwise out of the question since I was afraid of him. I kept telling myself, I’m a big brave dog but it didn’t work for me either.

I shuffled my feet a few more times and he continued to come after me, he didn’t appear to have teeth but I wasn’t willing to do any further investigation into that theory. After that I tried to taunt him into chasing my sandals to the side of the road but he remained unmoved. When that strategy also failed I went back to the car and inspected its contents as I considered my options. I grabbed a cardboard shipping flat, hooked the edge over the turtles shell and I scooted him to the shoulder of the road.  At that point he began walking in the direction I was moving him,  like an old man who just remembered where he intended to go right before he  forgot. Minutes later the turtle was making his way down the weedy ditch and I was making my way home.

Today in the Garden

Nick and I gardened today with the Porch Cat. Porch Cat has taken to joining me in the garden and for reasons I can’t explain he likes rolling in the dirt next to me. Perhaps it’s escaped his notice that his coat is half white.

Anyway, my son teased me for wearing garden gloves and garden shoes saying, “I love living closer to the earth…I just don’t want to touch it.” I may have pelted him with a rock, I just can’t remember:)

The Best Healthcare Debate Tweet

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“I don’t care where you fall on the healthcare debate, yelling at Arlen Specter looks like fun.”

-Badbanana via Twitter

No Escaping the Bridget Jones Syndrome

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Several months ago I answered a Facebook questionnaire that asked “which fictional heroine are you?” I had hoped to learn I was Elizabeth Bennett or Fanny Price but to my embarrassment I ended up being likened to Bridget Jones.

I thought hard about this when I was making sauce from the tomatoes in my garden after the food processor splashed sauce across my face and clothing.  I stood still for a moment and marveled at the accuracy of the Facebook survey as I wiped my face, shirt, the wall, and then blotted at my hair.

A few weeks ago I received an email from Match.com that said I could peek at profiles for free. I hadn’t considered dating but was doddling online and thought taking a peek might be fun. What I didn’t realize was that in order to peek I’d have to set up my own profile which was subsequently uploaded to their site and people could peek at me too. From the moment my profile went live men started to wink at me and send emails.

Sending a wink is a way to say I noticed you without sending an email. The wink recipient can then decide to wink back, send an instant message if they’re online , email or reply with a polite “no thank you”. What I quickly learned was that the free trial I signed up for didn’t allow me to read or reply to any emails I received, if I wanted full access to my account I would have to  pay for a full membership. After collecting  hundreds hits in 24 hours and amusing myself by sliding around the website winking at complete strangers I decided to join for 30 days just for fun but  within the first week I accepted my first date.

Days before my first date, I had an allergic reaction while picking green beans in the community garden for the food shelf. My eyes puffed, grew bloodshot and I developed black circles.  I considered rescheduling the date mortified to have to introduce myself looking older than my mother but I bit down, kept the date and went anyway. There was no easy way to say, I honestly don’t look like this without sounding like a twit…so I smiled, drank wine and made the best of it.

Despite looking comparatively like hell, Date 1 has continued to stay in touch and even asked me out again. I couldn’t go on the second date because I was busy that day.  I still hadn’t shaken the eye irritation so I made an appointment to see my doctor. Days before my doctors appointment I asked a man from Match  to take me to dinner for my birthday after shamelessly flirting with him and he agreed.  I arranged to come into town on a Monday and booked the  hotel room through Wednesday since he lived in a neighboring state.

The Friday before my trip I went to the doctor who said my allergic reaction turned into a bacterial infection and he gave me a prescription. This seemed perfect because I could start on the medicine that day, take it all weekend and be on the mend by the time I left Monday. Unfortunately the medication made me so sick that I slept nearly all day on Sunday.  I discontinued use of the prescription hoping to be well enough to leave on Monday, electing to deal with the prescription issue when I returned.

By this time the circles under my eyes were even worse and it was causing pressure in my ears and I had another date…with a guy I really sort of liked. I would have liked to have rescheduled but I knew that he had already arranged his schedule to spend time with me, so  canceling at the last minute seemed like a deal-breaker . When I arrived in town, my head sort of hurt so before calling to tell him I had arrived  I freshened up by running a wash cloth under the faucet and pressing it to my eyes. I had not realized that the water temperature was fifty times hotter than anything my own faucets would produce and I burned the paper thin skin around my eyes and seared the very edges of my eyelids to a puffy pink color, “silly Bridget…”

By the time I left the hotel room the tissue around my eyes had more hash marks than a press release and I wanted to stay under the blankets of my bed. I took a deep breath, told myself that  I wasn’t a whining child and resolved to just buck up and make the best of it. When my date pulled up to pick me up in a Porsche Boxster convertible,  I exhaled the word “shit” out loud in the hotel lobby. He was expecting to meet the girl in the picture I had posted on my profile and I was pretty sure I looked more like her mother. Honestly, if there were ever a moment in my life when I wanted to slam the pause button hard, look at the heavens and say…”okay, I hope you’re amused but this time I want a do-over,” it was then.

To make matters worse, we had only discussed eating out once and maybe taking a walk together so I was under the impression we’d get together once for sure and maybe twice to go for a walk. With that in mind I packed to spend the remainder of my time bicycling or hiking in the state park. I brought one very dressy dress for dinner and hiking clothes, as fate would have it,  he only worked until noon each day then spent the remainder of his time showing me around town. He was fun and funny and seemed to think I was amusing even when I wasn’t trying to be. I scolded myself because I didn’t grab even one cute summer dress or a pair of kitten heels.

At one point he asked if I ever wore heels,then laughed and said, then how tall are you 5′2?  He was of course right, but  it was perhaps good that he couldn’t see the mountain of shoes,  boots and cocktail dresses in my bedroom… shut away like  Howard Hughes.

When I left  he said he’d get in touch with me next time he came through town and I assume he probably will …like stopping to visit a sister:)  I sent him a note thanking him for a wonderful time, because it really was and he sent an email saying he enjoyed my company.

When I arrive home I stopped to see my Mother and told her about scalding my eyes, I thought she might say it wasn’t that bad but she looked at me and said, “oh!”  Real surprised which meant I wasn’t exaggerating.  As of yesterday, my eyes began looking somewhat normal again. The infection is gradually dissipating and the scalded skin around my eyes is starting to rejuvenate…on to date 3, 4 & 5.  Fortunately,  there was no fireman’s pole, my skirt didn’t fly up because I didn’t bring one (although it might have taken the focus off my eyes…note to self…) and my bottom isn’t the size of Brazil.  Que sera sera.

…maybe I should date the professional opera singer next.

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Message Mr. Cleaver…

I woke up yesterday, ran my fingers through my hair and thanked God for effective drugs, I was beginning to fear that Father Time had finally caught up with me…like the ticking clock in Peter Pan, and I’d be stuck with permanent puffy bags, dark circles and cross hash wrinkles, for good.  Whatever infected me in the bean patch made more than just my eyes feel ill, my hair felt dry and my skin lacked healthy color. But yesterday I was on the mend, my hair felt healthy, my skin felt soft and I didn’t feel the slightest inclination to take my eyes out and wash them, I was so relieved to see a more familiar version of my own face.

So far I’ve been on 2 dates since joining Match.com but turned down over 80.  I read something about not being too picky but, screw that I can find a thousand other ways to fill my time . Date 2 I liked a lot but there was a charge that, in addition to scalding my eyes, unsettled me, so much so that when he started to talk about another woman he was dating I abruptly stood up to leave. I of course was dating other people so my reaction was completely irrational. It wasn’t even a thought process I just jumped to my feet, it was a completely emotional reaction that caught us both completely off guard. He stood up so fast after me and threw up his hands like you would if a horse kicked the door to the stable open:)  The only thing I could think was…where the hell did that come from?  After being single for 18 years, divorced for about 15…my Mother reminded me (I thought it was 12),  that felt like the deep end of the pool.  Flirting for sport is definitely more my speed at least for now:)

Before I meet the Opera Singer, I’m stopping off to check out Research and Development in Minneapolis.  I need a d0-over to shake it off and I like the idea of Research and Development when its mixed in with a really cute guy.

Little black dress- $70.00, . Killer high heels – $59.00 Feeling and looking well – priceless!

Speeding: A How To Guide

After being pulled over for speeding today I discovered that you can side step a ticket by wrinkling your nose at the officer.  Said officer opened his mouth, rolled his eyes and said “fine,” but he didn’t give me a fine.

Thanks for the great haircut Cookie:)

This Weeks Good News

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Nicholas was certified and hired by the community college to tutor in all achedemic areas including chemistry and physics.

Benjamin and Rachel leased a new home:)

Shut Up, Mr.Cleaver

Image by MiniTar via Flickr

The last person to shamelessly flirt with me in public was a young man in his early twenties. He was working in a shop and smiled at me, I smiled warmly back because he was very good looking and I felt very safe that he wasn’t hitting on me due to his age as well as mine, I was sorry my daughter wasn’t with me.

When he passed by me a second time, I wondered…when he moved to the check out counter with me, I really wondered. I had purchased an item in a large box and the young man grabbed the box as I paid for it. I told him I could carry it and he said, “I’m carrying it,” and walked to the door.  After he loaded it into my car, I thanked him and he looked back at me from over his shoulder swept a glance from my shoes, over my skirt and up to my face then said, “come back sometime,” and walked away. It was the emotional equivalent of having a 6′2 twenty year old slap me on the bottom and my mouth fell open.

After joining the ranks of the tragic, dating singletons for the past 30 days I can say with with complete confidence that men of all ages make me feel old.

Men who are my age talk about dating women in their 30’s, always a blond Pilates instructor which leaves me wanting to squint my eyes across the table and say something like, “shut up, Daniel Cleaver” with a British accent, or toss my napkin across the table and say, “sod off.” On the opposite end invitations from men in their twenties  makes me queasy because it would he like dating my son’s friends, a notion I find repellent. Which brings me to the subject of  35 year old men which I am in a quandary over. Even with many things in common I don’t want to be 12 years older because he undoubtedly, not only knows the blond, thirty-something Pilates instructor he also knows the Llama-eyed, 24 year old Yoga Master, with pink hair and a perky tush. It may make Anna Nicole Smith’s husband feel young to date a younger women but dating a younger man would just remind me how much older I am.  It would remind me that I was playing spin the bottle when he was  backstroking in amniotic fluid still tethered to his Mother.

This means my only other option is older men but as I grow older that prospect becomes increasingly frightening, even if I were to kick the tires I simply couldn’t bring myself to look under the hood.  I’d rather die old, alone and half eaten by wild dogs.

Roasting Roma’s

I planted 80 Roma tomatoes in early spring and have been harvesting produce for about a month now.

Today I roasted about 300 tomatoes and I was finally completely satisfied with my recipe.

Here is how I prepared them.

Slice Roma’s in half, lengthwise. Drizzle with olive oil, added salt, pepper, a hand full of garlic ( I prefer fresh but used loads of minced and it was excellent) oregano and finely chopped basil.

Mix well so all tomatoes are well coated.

Place face down on a baking sheet and roast at 350 degrees until skin start to pucker. Different baking surfaces will cause  the length of time vary.

Remove from oven and scoop into a blender or food processor, buzz for about 10 seconds.

Pour into a food mill or a potato ricer.

Process all tomatoes, add fresh basil to taste, simmer sauce to desired consistency and enjoy!