3 March 2011

One of the nice things about living where we do--if we get up one morning and the weather is nice, and there's nothing else to do, there's always San Francisco. And on Tuesday the weather was just about perfect and there was nothing on the schedule, so we headed for a BART station and rode the train in, with nothing specific to do in mind.

 We got off at an early stop and decided to walk along the Embarcadero. I don't think we were even sure how far we wanted to go, but it runs along the water and it's where all the pier buildings are.

Overall, there's not a lot to see other than those buildings and ships (which is fine if you like boats...I'm not a huge fan) but if you turn and look towards the heart of the city, you can see stuff like Coit Tower.

Very cool.

Still haven't see it up close, but even at a distance...very cool.

We walked down to Fisherman's Wharf and poked around Pier 39 a bit (ok, fine, I needed to pee and we knew there was a restroom there...) and split a soft pretzel and Diet Coke. In spite of the plethora of shops, we didn't wander into any of them (BTDT, have enough t-shirts) and instead kept walking.

And just past Pier 39, I met my new Boy Toy. He posed for the Spouse Thingy, and after this picture was taken. my new Boy Toy (MNBT) spotted an older Asian guy walking past, and he jumped from his perched and literally jumped on the old guy...I think hscaring the crap out of him, and as far as I know he may still be running down the Embarcadero to get away.

But while he was trying to get acquainted with the Asian guy, I was putting a dollar in his bucket. 'Cause, you know, he was nice enough to pose, and he was making everyone laugh.

After I dropped the dollar in his bucket I started to walk away, but MNBT decided to come get me, and together we walked back to where his throngs of admirers were waiting.

Ok, fine, it was a bunch of people who wanted to see what he was going to do next.

And what he was going to do, was pose for another picture for the Spouse Thingy.

Don't we look happy together?

My new Boy Toy is one of the reasons I love walking around San Francisco. You never know what--or who--you're going to see.

We walked a little further down the Wharf and the Spouse Thingy indulged in some fried fish (I do not do fish, but damned if I was going to be a reason he didn't get any. If you like fish, when you're at the Wharf, you get fish. It's like a law, I think...)

We ended up at Ghiradelli Square, and you bet we picked up some chocolate.

By the time we were done there, I think we'd both had enough walking. We wandered over to the cable car station at the end of Hyde Street, and this is the view you get while standing there.

Beautiful.

We wound up waiting there about half an hour; they had loaded one car that took off, and the next we *just* missed getting on...but it just sat there for 15 minutes while the operator took a break. When the next one pulled up, being that we were first in line, we got choice seats right up front...and still waited while another operator took a break.

Still...we didn't have to sit inside and didn't have to hang off the sides (though I get why some people like that...the kid that was standing in front of me kept going Wheeeee...LOL)

Since I was right up front, I was in a good position to get a few pictures. I was shooting for some perspective on the downtown hills, though the pictures I got don't quite do it justice.

Still, try to imagine walking up and down these hills. the locals don't seem to think twice; they just do it. You see guys on bikes all around the city and they all have these HUGE calf muscles...

Fricking amazing.

All I can think about when I see them is that 1) none of them killed me on the last 3 Day Walk; 2) I clearly remember swearing under my breath (and not so much under my breath) during the last 3 Day every time we came up to a new hill; and 3) I'm actually looking forward to doing it again.

Not just the walk itself, but coming into the city and wandering around, getting my feet and legs ready for September.

I think the next time we wander into the city we're going to drive in over the Golden Gate Bridge and head for the beach along the Great Highway, and maybe walk around Golden Gate Park for a bit. We've been to the DeYougn Museum there a few times, but haven't really explored the park. I want to check out Stowe Lake and the Japanese Tea Gardens, find Baker Beach, and see what else there is to explore.

I'm not sure much will beat a view like this, though

The Golden Gate Bridge from Crissy Field.

27 February 2011

You used to update the thing in the sidebar, your weight loss and I liked seeing it, it helped me think I could do it too. And your blog about it, what happened to that?

The blog was boring; I mean, if it bored me to write it, then it had to be excruciating to read, so I gave it up a long time ago. It's still there, somewhere, mocking me, reminding me that losing weight has been one of the major failures of my adult life (not quite as major has having gained the weight it the first place, but still...)

And the sidebar widget? I stopped updating it because I stopped losing weight. From July 2009 until December 2009 I dropped 50 pounds and felt great about it--and at that rate I thought I would reach my 85 pound goal by April or May 2010.

But then I just stopped losing weight. My calorie intake was the same, but nothing was happening. The answer was to increase my calorie burn, but even after training for the 3 Day walk, which meant getting my ass up every day and walking, as much as 50 miles a week, I wasn't losing.

Trust me, you want frustration? Have that happen. I ran an 800 calorie deficit most days, but the blubber stubbornly clung to me.

Then in December I wiped out on the Skki Trikke, and in the complete non-movement right after I gained a few pounds. That was expected; I really wasn't moving much, and then I threw my back out. I didn't increase my eating, though. But still, I gained.

In December I bought a Body Media calorie tracker and have been wearing it since; it keeps a very close track of how many calories I burn, and I keep very close watch on how many calories I take in. On days when I don't do much at all I'm burning 1900 calories. I'm taking in 1300-1400. On days when I walk, I'm burning 2200 or more, and I take in about 1400-1500.

There should be weight loss there.

Instead, I've gained about 15 pounds.

Go figure.

So no, I'm not updating the little chart in the sidebar. In fact, I took it down because it was like this thing poking at me and making me feel really bad.

I have a doctor's appointment in April and I'll bring it up, but honestly, my experience with trying to get a doc to listen when it comes to weight issues leaves me thinking I'll get blown off. I hope I'm wrong, but I have low expectations.

24 February 2011

No, the book's not ready; the first draft and first pass through have been done. It still needs to be tweaked and edited, then the second draft (which should go quickly, given that the back story was pretty much established in the first 4 books.)

But, this is the cover mock up. It's not done, either. The font might change; the color of the font might change. I know the stroke that lines the font will change to make it stand out a little more.

But, so far, I like the cover.

And the title? That's not changing. That's pretty much set in stone.

So why post a picture of a mock cover? To annoy the hell out of Char Murphy, who's been bugging me to read the first draft.

And why do I want to annoy her? Because she knows how tall I am and how much I weight, and used this knowledge to help her husband order this for me:

Apparently I'm doing the 3 Day in style this year.

At least I won't have to show my face...

16 February 2011

Want to see reduce a Wabbit nearly to near tears?

Be in the room when she discovers that the first file of manuscript she's been working on for months--almost a year if you include the conception phase--is corrupt.

Oh yeah.

I fired the computer up to do some work this afternoon, tried to open the file containing part one and got the ugliest of error messages.

WORD CANNOT OPEN THIS DOCUMENT

FILE IS CORRUPT

Panic began to ensue. Yes, I have earlier versions saved, but I did a lot of work on it last night, some major revisions, and only saved to a flash drive. I tried opening it on two different computers with the same result: that file was dead.

Oh, and before what you're thinking spills out: don't ever suggest to a riter they can just rewrite something.

No. No they can't. What seems plausible is in fact a nightmare, and the second time around the words simply fall flat and any magic vanishes. The resulting mess is dull and lifeless and is, frankly, a gut punch to the writing ego.

Yet, I was sure that's what I was going to have to do: take an earlier version and try to re-polish it.

Trust me, that's worth crying about.

But...on a whim I sent Murf a text message because one of his best friends in a compu-genius and I hoped he would have something to tell me to do other than scream.

"Email the file," came the quick reply.

Less than five minutes later--literally--I got another text. Check your email; it was one corrupt line and he fixed it. He also suggested I get everything possible off that flash drive and then get rid of it.

Will do.

And mucho thanks, Dack and Undr.

15 February 2011

Because I know you've been waiting with baited breath...

I have no idea why this picture is so stretched out...

Behold...the first draft...
It probably would have been done day before yesterday, but I got distracted by some really beautiful weather and decided to take advantage of the spring-like days to take a few long walks. My timing was good, too, because the rain and wind has moved in, and it's not like there's a whole lot else to do while stuck inside.

Well, other than cleaning, and I'd much rather write than clean.

And then yesterday was Valentine's Day, and while I got a lot of work done, we did go out to dinner (yes, I know, I've said before you'd never find me in a restaurant on Valentine's Day, but in my defense I just had a brain cramp, and we didn't go to our first choice because the damned parking lot was PACKED--at 5-freaking-thirty! Like, who other than us eats at 5-freaking-thirty on Valentine's Day? Really!) and we did want to spend some, um, quality time together later.

Oh, and there was frozen yogurt in there somewhere. After dinner but before, um, watching TV in bed while also playing with my iPad.

Shuddup. You can't get porn on an iPad.

(Can you?)

Anyway, even though the Spouse Thingy had today off, he had a CPR test to take and a Mom to go see, so I stayed home and finished the first draft.

And now the fun begins, wherein I read the damned book so many times that I start to hate it.

When I truly despise it, I'll send it to the editor and to a couple of beta readers. With any luck, it'll be ready for prime time in April or May.

I can see you twittering with excitement from here.

Or maybe you just have gas.

Whatever. First draft--in the can.

10 February 2010

Slowly but surely, I'm getting to the end of the first draft of the book I've been working on. There are some gaping holes in the manuscript, things I did not write because I needed to have a better sense of how certain events would play out before addressing them, but by the end of the weekend I'm hoping I can go back and fill in those holes.

It's kind of like wood putty, but with words. Literary putty? Verbiage paste? Anti-white out?

Anyway, I'm getting there. But I've also been distracted by this:

New-to-me Macbook laptop. I wasn't in the market for a new laptop, the one I have works perfectly fine, but this used system came preloaded with all the software I need for the publishing side of my life, and I've been in need of some serious software upgrades for a long time now. The main platform I use for manuscript formatting, Pagemaker, I bought in 2001 and I think that was the last time Adobe released any version of Pagemaker. The year after that they moved to InDesign, but I've resisted all these years.

This little Mac (and man it is REALLY little...) has the newest InDesign on it, which gives me a chance to play with it and to see if I have any hope of figuring it out. It's also got the newest Photoshop, Illustrator, and a ton of other things. Office 2011...which I'm kind of liking more on the Mac than I do on Windows.

In any case, I might have finished the first draft this week if not for the Mac distraction...

Totally different thing...why the hell am I sitting here with The Real Housewives of New Jersey on? I mean, I'm just waiting for the noon news to come on, but really, I feel about 20 IQ points dumber for the 15 minutes I've been listening to it...

3 February 2011

I haven't been especially active in the last couple of months. Between wiping out and hurting my shoulder, then throwing my back out, well, I've done a lot of sitting here trying to not move too much. But now that the shoulder feels decent most of the time and the back feels fine, it's time to start moving again.

The thing is, my endurance sucks. I can still walk reasonable distances at an adequate speed, but I really do want to get into shape. I have the spiffy calorie counting thingy strapped to my arm all the time so I know what my baseline is and what my typical deficit is every day, but I need the cardio to add to that.

The best cardio thingy I have, the Street Strider. The outdoor elliptical machine that has kicked my ass in a major way. I ever get get very far on it before the weather turned and it was either too cold, too rainy, or I was just in no shape to ride it.

But now?

Otherwise known as the Dammit Machine

I bought a Kinetic Road Machine so that I can use it indoors (and for the record, I don't recommend doing this in front of a fire...) so that I can get some of my endurance back before taking it outside again.

This morning I hopped on and got going, and in five minutes I was sucking wind. Seriously sucking wind. So I got off, caught my breath, got back on...and was sucking wind.

Out of shape, I are.

I worked it in 5-10 minutes spurts, until I had half a hour on it, and later this evening I did another ten,

Buddah sat and watched, mocking me.

Once I get it up to 15-20 minutes nonstop I'll try taking it outside again, because that's got to be more fun than staying indoors being mocked by the cat.

Well, I hope I will. There's a good chance we're heading for the snow next week and giving the Skkis another try. So who knows...

31January 2010

This is often the soundtrack to my work.

John Barry's Moviola.

I picked it up on a whim at least 12 years ago, maybe 13 or 14, and it's been one of my favorites since then. Sometimes I pop open the laptop to work, and before I even have music going, I hear the opening strains of Out of Africa. The music is soothing, classy without being too classical, and so near perfection that if you just sit back and close your eyes, it wraps around you, both feather soft and tightly coiled.

I was listening to it yesterday as I worked, and even put a link to the CD on Amazon on my Facebook page.

Then today I hopped online, hit FARK, and found a headline about John Barry.

He died today.

That kinda sucks.

I'll probably play the same CD over and over, letting it swell in the background while I finish this book, but the idea that we'll never hear anything new from him?

Yeah. Sucks.

29 January 2011

Well, here's a lesson learned about trying to make a global change in a Microsoft Word document... if you try to change the name "Lee" with another name, say, Brian, then words such as "sleeping" and "leeching" become "sBrianping" and "Brianching."

Over 107 pages, that's a lot of crap to go back and look for.

I am very tempted to leave all those weird words, just to make the editor eventually earn her $5.62...

25 January 2011

I'm willing to beet anyone reading this knows their own email address. Right? You are all intelligent enough to know your own initials, own last name, whether or not you had numbers associated with the email. So I'm guessing you don't wander around the Internet signing up for varied services using the wrong freaking email address.

Like, one that belongs to someone else.

But the person who keeps using my email address for every damned thing under the sun. STOP IT ALREADY. You're a moron. Really. Because you keep using my address, I now know what activities your kids are involved in, where their scout meetings are help and at what times, I know what schools they go to, I know what car you drive and when your scheduled maintenance appointments are, I know your birth date, and now I know that you're out there looking for love.

Oh yeah. You signed up with match.com today.

If I were a lesser person, I would log onto your account--because hey, in the confirmation email they sent me your user name AND password--and screw with things, but I'm not that person. No, I'm now having to jump through hoops to get match.com to remove my email address from their system.

I don't really need them, you know? I've been with the same person for 30 years and I don't see that changing, so getting any email from them at all is a waste of my time. To have to get it to stop, well, that's just freaking annoying.

I wouldn't mind if it was an isolated incident, but you keep doing it.

Freaking stop it already.

You're not alone; there's another person who had a brain hiccup and used my address, but she at least tracked the error down and is apologetic when I get stuff meant for her. You? You're just bouncing all over the place, and you've done it in a way that leaves your personal information open to someone you don't know.

It's a damn good thing I'm not one to scam, or honey, I would be taking your ass for a long, painful ride.

23 January 2011

I sat down last night to read over the 80,000 words I had carved out for the current work in progress; hell, that's novel length all by itself, other than the storyline has not wrapped itself up yet. By the time I was done reading, however, I was left with roughly 63,000 words, because 17,000 of those words frankly kinda sucked.

Well, it wasn't suckitude on the scale of sucking so hard that the moon was in risk of being pulled out of orbit, but there were large chunks that did nothing to move the story forward. A lot of it I found amusing, but only in a this-is-only-funny-in-my-head kind of way.

So I did some literary surgery, set the offending matter aside (I didn't totally delete it because, hey, it might work later, or in something else) and went to bed, where I actually fell asleep quickly and had weird dreams about Max being the size of a Golden Retriever and one holy-hell-this-could-happen dream about being on the SGK 3 Day and getting lost because I didn't pay attention to the signs along the way and didn't notice that there was no one else walking with me until I was back near home, circling the park.

Now, that's a hell of a long walk and a very long time to not notice the lack of other walkers. And since it involves walking across the Bay Bridge, which is decidedly not foot-traffic friendly, I figure I must have been on crack or something at the start of the dream. Dream crack, folks. I don't do drugs before bed.

Well, other than the Benedryl.

And sometimes Vicodin.

So I woke up this morning, a little wary of Max, who was sitting on top of me, staring holes into my face as he projected feed me feed me feed me into my brain, and headed for my laptop, determined to make up for some of the 17,000 words I sliced and diced last night.

Since this morning I've added, oh, 1200 words to the manuscript; it's not that I don't know what to write, or what comes next. The problem is that I do. There's a bitter-sweetness to this story, and even though I (and anyone who has read the first 4 books in the series) know how a big chunk of this turns out, I'm having a problem going there.

I have to break a couple of hearts, and I really don't want to now that I've explored their relationship.

It has to happen, though.

It won't make sense if it doesn't.

Hell, maybe I can introduce a Golden-sized cat into the mix. At least that would distract me, if not feed a few more really funky dreams...

20 January 2011

How to annoy your entire readership of 6 people: find yourself a little too blog-blocked to be able to write anything worth their time. Granted, that doesn't stop me often, but the last ten days or so...yeah, not a lot to tell.

Well, other than I've pretty much decided for sure to walk the SGK 3 Day in San Francisco again, so training will resume on that front soon. As will the training blog and rock The Pink, when I decide what the heck to do with it.

And other than that I've been working on the next book--really working! What a concept! Even when I'm playing around online, the story is percolating in the back of my head and I find myself distracted anytime I try to write anything else. Like, right now. I'm tapping away on the keyboard for my blog, but I have Word open and I can feel the characters who are waiting there tapping their feet impatiently. I'm keeping them waiting because they're adults on a first date, and frankly, I've never been 30 years old on a first date and I'm out of my element there. Hell, even as a teenager I didn't have a lot of first dates. I had a lot of hanging out with friends that turned into dating. Even with the Spouse Thingy, our first "date" was bowling with friends who never showed up, and it turned into us bowling alone and then going for a walk through Orangevale Park on a rainy night.

The worst of the last ten days, though, came yesterday when word filtered through on Facebook about the loss of a friend. Her name was Tracy Crowe, and anyone who hung around Wil Wheaton's Soapbox a few years ago probably not only knew her, but liked her immensely. She went through a few user names--Just Trae, blackbirdshaq--but my favorite was RunsWithScissors. She was funny as hell, warm and wonderful, and far, far too young to die.

One of the last things I'd mentioned to her was that she shares a name with my editor, and once in a while I'd have to stop to think about which Tracy I was talking to. When editor Tracy saw on my FB page about the passing of my friend, she reacted from her gut and sent a message: I don't know who said that, but I'm fine!

When I explained about my other Tracy Crowe, and how wonderful she was and how young, editor Tracy replied with this:

Hon, I would trade places with her if I could. I've had such a long and incredible life, and if only there were a way that the Tracys could swap.

The thing is, I know she means it.

I wouldn't want either Tracy out of my life. Editor Tracy is old and mean and tries her best to make me cry, but she is also the kind of person who would say something like that and mean it.

You know, most of my friends are of the online variety, and I treasure them deeply. You don't have to meet someone face to face to develop genuine feelings of affection for someone. It's wonderful when you actually do get to meet, but those friendships...just as real.

My online friends have brought a lot into my life--some I've known (and have met) for 20 years, some manage to make me do things like walk 60 miles up and down the Hills from Hell--and when I lose one...

Tracy wasn't the first, but I hope she's the last for a long, long time.

9 January 2010

Happiness is turning just the right way and having your back pop in just the right spot, suddenly alleviating over 3 weeks of pain that often bordered on the edge of shoot me now, it'll feel better. Yesterday I was sitting at my office desk, turned to the right to get a disk out of the CD drive, and felt a series of small pops, and 95% of the pain was gone, just like that.

What I'm left with is one sore spot that feel like a giant bruise would...very tolerable. It's still a pain to bend over and pick things up off the floor, so I'll avoid that for a while, but still, this is so much better that it's like getting a elated Christmas present (though I would have prefered to not spend my actual Christmas the way I did...)

The only downside is that now I'm more aware of how much aching is still in my shoulder, but even that's not bad. It's not even whine-worthy (not that I won't...)

Another week or so and I may even be able to give the Skki Trikke another try. Though I admit, I saw a ski bike online today and it was really tempted to order, just to give me something to play with and not risk upending myself into the snow again.

Very tempting...

4 January 2011

I should know better than to spew forth sunshine and rainbows like a post-Taco Bell fart fest when it comes to crap like my back. No sooner than I proclaimed by back to be getting better than it seized up on me again. I wasn't quite back to square one, but close. I've been inventing new compound swear words...I'm not sure how many more I can cough up, so it's time for something to give.

So today I asked the Spouse Thing to make me a doctor's appointment, and the doc had a open slot at 1 pm, so off we went. I touched my toes for him, I leaned left, I leaned right, and he poked and prodded, and declared it to be muscle inflammation, and to do basically what I've been doing. But... he wanted me to see a physical therapist. You know, so someone else can torture me, because that seemed like so much fun...

He did give me a scrip for Flexeril in case I need it, so there's that.

The PT group was just down the road so instead of calling for an appointment the Spouse Thingy thought we should just stop and go it. So we did. I figured I'd get seen in a couple of days, but an hour later some skinny thing that I could probably break in half with a well aimed wicked garlic burp was making me bend in directions I don't think I was ever intended to bend in, and then she hooked electrodes to my back, slapped a five hundred pound heated weight on top, and left me there for 15 minutes as my lower back and buttocks were cooked to a medium rare.

Thing is, I felt better as soon as it was over. I'm not foolish enough to think I won't wake up tomorrow and have it hurt again, but for now, I'll take it.

I'm supposed to see her twice a week, but she thinks the recovery will be fairly quick, at least in terms of pain relief. She thinks, however, that the issue is a mildly bulging disk; the treatment for that versus inflammation is the same, though, and she did stress mild. I've also apparently been exacerbating it by my really horrible sitting posture, so the Spouse Thingy moved the love seat out of the family room and into the living room and brought in a chair that will force me to sit more upright.

In the bigger picture, the back issues are likely related to my shoulder injury; I spent a couple of weeks not moving much, slouching on the sofa while trying to not drool onto my laptop's keyboard. Toss my crappy posture on top of everything--the back has always been problematic--and bingo...we have taken a vacation to the City of Ouch.

It's not a nice place to visit, and no one wants to live here...

I'm leaving soon, though. Cause it really sucks.

2 January 2011

Alrighty. When last I whined, on December 26th, I was still in all kinds of pain with no sign of it letting up. My shoulder ached, but my back seriously hurt, and I could barely move. My fingers kept twitching towards the Vicodin, and I spent my time sitting here with a heat pad on my back, just hoping for a little bit of relief.

Then a couple of days later, one my my FB and cat blogger buddies, who knows about these things, suggested I might want to use ice instead. Ice, he said, helps in the acute phase of inflammation--the first couple of weeks. Since I trust him because he does know about these things, I did what he said: I started using ice 2-3 times a day.

Lo and behold, within a day the back was feeling a little better, and in just a couple of days the knife that had seemingly been jabbed into my back fell out, and all I'm left with is soreness.

So now I have a sore shoulder, sore chest, and sore back, but I'm not eyeing the Vicodin as if I desperately need it; I'm still taking Ibuprofen 3 times a day, but I'm down to half a Vicodin at night...I had been taking two.

So, it's progress.

All in all, I worry more about the back than I do the shoulder. Past experience tells me that all I have to do is move the wrong way and something will seize up again, so I'm moving carefully. I'm not doing anything I don't have to do, just in case. The shoulder will heal up eventually, and I don't think I need to worry about it twitching the wrong way and all those tendons starting up the Spasmodic Momba. It will simply be what it's going to be.

But I do need my back to get to the point where I don't worry about what moving about will do; I don't like the inactivity, and the weight is starting to pile back on (and surely that has nothing to do with dutch apple pie...or Oreo cookies...)

I have to admit, I realy want things to be back to near normal in a couple of weeks so that I can go back to Sierra at Tahoe and try again.

Surely I won't wipe out a second time.

Right?

1 January 2011

Happy New Year, Peoples :)

 

It's gonna be a good one...!

28 December 2010

Played himself right into a spontaneous nap...

26 December 2010

Christmas Day at Casa de Thumper was nice and quiet; the Spouse Thingy had to work Christmas Eve night into Christmas morning and he slept until 1:15, getting up earlier than normal, and the Boy came over around 1:30. He made pizza for all, and we watched a little Doctor Who (because I am woefully behind on on it, and they don't mind seeing repeats), opened gifts, just had a nice, quiet time.

My day was probably quieter than normal...because I can barely move. The shoulder and chest are improving; on a scale from 1 - 10, with the post-Skki-wipeout pain having been around 8.5, it's down to a tolerable 5. Things on that front are healing nicely. In fact, the recovery is so steady that I don't think it will take nearly as long as the doc warned it could be. Motrin was handling the pain, and I was fully mobile.

"Was" being the key word here.

(Fair warning...copious whining follows.)

My lower back started to ache on Wednesday evening. I didn't think much of it; I have arthritis at L4 and L5, and some aching comes along with that. It aches 90% of the time, and a little Naprosyn makes the worst of it usually abate.

Thursday morning it hurt a little more, but not too badly. Thursday night...someone stabbed me in the back with a red hot poker. I started to get up from the sofa and there was instant fire. And Buddah, the little shit, took the opportunity to jump up onto my back since I couldn't stand upright; I tried to reach back to get him, but he flattened himself like a pancake, and I wound up shuffling down the hall, bent over, with him riding me the entire way. He only jumped down when I went into the bathroom and turned on the water.

I'm pretty sure he was laughing at me.

That was a Vicodin kind of night.

Friday. Holy Carp. There was a lot of moaning and groaning coming out of me, enough that the cats probably got fed up. I know I got fed up. Moving was becoming a rapidly increasing exercise in agony, and when Santa needed to fill the stockings....well, Santa finally said "Phck it," dumped everything on the sofa, shuffled slowly down the hall, took 2 Vicodin, and went to bed.

Christmas Day, the back was still not cooperating. I did well to get from the sofa to a chair in the other room, and then back again later. If not for being served, I'm not sure I would have eaten much at all yesterday, because getting into the kitchen was a literal pain in the ass as whatever muscle in my lower back has decided to clench angrily sent fiery fingers up my back and down into my glutes.

Seriously, I don't think my back has ever been this bad. I really need some new swear words to use when get up, because I'm running out of old ones.

It was a 2 Vicodin night last night, too. It's not doing a damned thing for the pain, but it helped with sleep.

Today...no better, and the weird spot on my chest feels like something ripped again. So I'll spend my day sitting here, not doing much at all. I'm only getting up to pee and to take Motrin and/or Naprosyn. If the bathroom were more comfortable, I think I'd just stay in there so that I wouldn't have to get up at all.

How I know it hurts and I'm not just enjoying the whining: getting my gallbladder out hurt far less, and getting the brain tumor removed was only slightly more painful. Seriously.

Still...Christmas was very nice. It was nice to just sit here with the Boy and the Spouse Thingy, and even the cats were semi-social. I swear, they both acted like they knew what day it was and that they had to be good, because there was shrimp in the fridge, and bad kitties don't get shrimp...

The kitties, being good...

24 December 2010

19 December 2010

It's been cold and rainy here, and the forecast suggests it's going to stay that way at least through Christmas. Normally, that many days of rain would have me whining about not being able to take the bike out, or the Trikke, or the Strider... but since I can't do any of those things right now, I'm kind of enjoying the rain.

But...I really do need to get out there and walk. I have the treadmill, but it's different. I prefer walking outside, wandering around the town, seeing and hearing and smelling things that aren't in my face most of the rest of the time. Outside, I'll walk further and for a longer period of time than I will inside on the treadmill. It's not exactly logical, but there we are. I'm not an exactly logical person.

And there's the whole oh-holy-carp-this-kinda-hurts thing I have going on. I never realized how much a person's shoulder and chest moves with the simple motions of walking. The shoulder achiness I can deal with, but I have that place on my chest that just burns, and when I move the wrong way...damn. So I haven't made much of an effort to walk, even though I want to.

I'm a weenie that way.

When this has all healed up enough--half the time I think it'll heal quickly, the other half I'm afraid it really will take 12 weeks--I'm going to have some serious catching up to do conditioning-wise and weight wise. Sitting on my ass is not doing kind things to my weight (and neither did the pound cake I caved into this last week...or the cookies) and even if I keep the calorie count reasonable, if I can't move around I'm going to expand in ways I really don't want.

Yep, this is the argument I have in my own head. Move and hurt. Don't move and get fatter. Take it easy and decrease the healing time. Suck it up and do things and don't get fatter.

On the plus side, I can drive now, so I'm not stuck here. I can get out and about if I need to, but driving isn't all that comfortable when I have to navigate a turn, so I'm not jumping in the car and taking off on a whim. Max's friends can relax, though; I did go shopping for his Christmas present, but it's not wrapped and under the tree yet. Mostly because he would smell it, or Buddah would, and my furry friends would shred the paper to get to it.

What? Like you don't buy Christmas presents for your furballs...

16 December 2010

If you put a shoebox on the counter...

15 December 2010

A few months ago, when I was training for the 3 Day Walk and wanting to go into San Francisco to make use of the hilly terrain there, I got a traffic ticket. Nope, I wasn't speeding...we were looking for a place to park at the Concord BART station, stopped at a red light, and then the next thing I know, after I made the turn, I was being pulled over.

The charge? Turning right on a red where it is clearly posted you can't do that.

The thing is...we were positive the light was green. The Spouse Thingy had asked me why I wasn't going, I pointed out the no right on red sign, and I waited. I know the light was green when I went.

The cop pulled another woman over at the same time for the same infraction.

Now...this cop was polite and reasonable. When we both said we were sure the light was green, he said he would go back and check the timing on the lights. If he was wrong, he'd dismiss the ticket. He was very nice, we didn't argue, he didn't argue. He was just doing his job.

Cut to now. I never got a notice one way or the other about the ticket. You're supposed to get a courtesy notice about the ticket; how much the fine is, where to pay, etc. But, if you don't get one, it's still your responsibility to figure it all out. Even though none of that is on the ticket.

Okay, fine, I can deal with that.

But, we waited for the the courtesy notice, or something to say hey, you were right after all.

Nada.

The ticket has to be resolved by Monday. So I got online to pay it...entered the citation number and got a message saying the citation couldn't be found. Use the docket number instead.

I never got the freaking notice about it, and the docket number would be on that notice.

So either the ticket doesn't exist and the cop dismissed it, or I'm expected to do contortions to pay the bail on it. and ya know, if I'm in the wrong, fine, I'll pay it. Who knows, maybe we both had a brain fart and just imagined that green light. But the citation number did not exist in the system...

So the Spouse Thingy got on the phone...and entered into phone hell. He never got through...but did get the info that the Contra Costa County Traffic court closes at 2 pm every day. It was 1:30...no time to get there.

Y'all know ho freakishly weird I am about going places by myself the first time? Yeah, this is problematic. Because today was really the only day the Spouse Thingy could have gone with me. In hindsight, we should have driven there anyway, just so I'd know where to go. I would have been okay with that.

Mostly, I just wanna know if I got a ticket or not.

'Cause, really, the light was green!

Swearsies.

14 December 2010

Why I should not be allowed to text:



And I have wanted Red Vines ever since...

(Yes, this was really Char's and my text...)

In other news, I had a follow up with my doc today and my arm is not about to detach from my body at the shoulder. Everything still hurts, but it's better every day and I have reasonable range of motion. It's just a matter of giving it time to heal up. He's kind of all over the map on exactly how long that will take. Everything from 6 weeks to 6 months.

If not for one particular place on my chest, I'd guess closer to 6 weeks, because the level of pain notches down noticeably from day to day. That one spot, though...it's being a little bitch. Still...I have high hopes that I'll feel comfortable driving by Friday and motorcycle-worthy after Christmas.

And oh yeah, I fully intend to hit the slopes again before the season is over. I am going to own that Skki Trikke.

12 December 2010

Pass the cheese, 'cause I've got the whine...

Okay, so far the recovery hasn't been too bad. I ache, but as long as I don't move, the pain isn't horrible. The shoulder itself hurts a little, but the worst is actually where the pectoral muscle connects to the sternum--that feels like it's ripping away every time I move--and there's this weird spot along my shoulder blade that feels like someone jammed a stick in there and won't pull it out.

The overall body achiness is subsiding, so, yay.

It could be worse. During the day taking Motrin is enough, but I'm still taking Vicodin at night. Night time is a double whammy; I can't roll over so I'm stuck sleeping on my back, but I'm a side and stomach sleeper, so my back really starts to ache after a while. I did notice last night that I managed to get my hips rolled over a little, so that's something. At least it takes the pressure off for a few minutes at a time.

But so far the absolute worst part of all this is boredom, and not being able to do anything. I'm pretty freaking mobile, but I can't lift anything, so I can't even do basic housework. I can't drive, so I'm stuck at home, and I hate being stuck at home. I'd walk to the store, but that one place on my chest seems to be seriously affected by the gravity of walking, so I'm not sure that would be my greatest idea. And while I feel like walking, I don't know the level of my endurance. I was sleepy as hell for a couple of days and I'm not sure how long I can wander around before the achiness gives way to fatigue.

All right, I take it back...the worst part has been the weight gain. Ten freaking pounds in the last few days. Yes, I know a good chunk of it is water, muscle trauma and all that, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. I know part of it isn't water, it's from sitting around doing nothing. So even after I shed the water weight, I'll still have 2-3 extra pounds to deal with, and I was having a hard enough time with my weight before that. 1500 calories a day, reasonable activity, and I hadn't lost a damned thing in almost a year.

I was already frustrated; this is just pushing me over the edge. I am really pissed off about it.

So sore, bored, and ticked off...not a good combination.

There needs to be better crap on TV.

9 December 2010

So.

Earlier this year the Spouse Thingy and I gave skiing a try, but it was pretty much a failure due to an unwaxed ski and wet snow…I didn’t even finish the 2 hour beginner’s class because of it. Unwaxed ski = ski that won’t slide = twisted knee.

The consensus after we gave up? "We're too old for this shit."

But, we like the idea of fun in the snow, so over the summer we planned on getting a couple of Trikke Skkis, because they’re easy to ride, and easy sounded really good.



A couple of weeks ago we ordered two of them, and on Monday we drove up to Sierra-at-Tahoe and bought our season passes (because hey! These things are easy to ride, so we’ll ride all winter long!), then spent the night in a cheap motel so that we could hit the slopes bright and early. And it was a beautiful day... No wind, abundant sunshine, and the temp was right around 32--bonus in that it wasn't at all crowded, which is what we hoped for, being new to the spiffy Trikke Skki.

We had to field a lot of questions from the curious about the Skkis, but soon enough we were walking them partway up the bunny slope so we could test ride them and make sure we knew how to stop, which seemed like an important thing to know how to do. We did that twice, were satisfied that we could do it, and headed for the ski lift...determined to stick to the bunny slope because, hey, we're not stupid.

But ya know? From the top, the bunny slope looks pretty steep. So we headed sideways, from one side to the other, a sloping lateral move, just to test the stopping thing again. And then I decided sooner or later I was going to have to go down that hill, so off I went.

And it was awesome. I had the carving motion down fairly well because of the street Trikke, and I was able to slow myself a bit when I thought I was going too fast. Sweet. And so much fun.

And then a snowboarder stopped--in a logical place to stop, seeing as how he was nearly at the bottom--so I needed to not only stop, but avoid him. So I leaned into the slope--what one is supposed to do to stop a Skki Trikke--and was slowing, but I made the mistake of turning the front ski in the opposite direction. I launched off of it, over the handlebar, onto my right shoulder, and the Skki landed on top of me.

Easy to ride...not so easy to stop. Not if you're going pretty fast.

My very first run on my brand new spiffy toy, after paying for a season pass, and my season just might be over. Nothing broken, but tons of bruises. My left foot was pretty mangled (not sure how) and I strained nearly every tendon that keeps my right shoulder connected to my body so badly that the doc says it should heal in 12-18 WEEKS. And that I'd probably hurt less if I'd broken it.

Go me!

This was me after he told me that:



No Skking, no motorcycle ...=sob=... I am so freaking sore, even thinking about moving hurts, and I am Teh Bummed.

Well, other than the Vicodin. That part has been fun...