My latest adventure is a medical massage. While I was having this massage, I kept trying to relax but I also kept thinking "I have to remember to write about this." If I wasn't thinking about that, then I was thinking "You have to stop thinking. You should just Calm The Hell Down and relax."
I have never had a massage, clearly. I have trust issues so it has never even been on my list of things to do. Also, the ADD doesn't seem like a good fit for staying still in one place for 30 minutes. (exhibit a, above)
I was a little skeptical and a bit anxious. Again, trust issues. The unknown is always worse than the known. Also, anticipation of people touching my owie was not something to look forward to.
It was wonderful though. Let me make a list:
Warmed table
Cozy blankets
Small space
Pleasant street noise
Russian accent
Lavendar
I walked better than I have in a long while afterward. The massage was similar to the manual manipulation part of physical therapy but not as miserable. I have an appointment again next week and I'm actually looking forward to it.
So, the one thing I did not enjoy is the nakey part and this was just partially nakey. But any kind of nakey is not fun for me, unless Kev is involved of course. I understand that it's necessary, I just don't have to like it. I can rationalize that they are used to nakey bodies but it just doesn't make it any easier. I'm sure that each time that I go, it will be a little bit easier. I doubt that I will ever be totally comfortable with it though.
Anyway, I think I've typed "nakey" enough for a lifetime.
The clinic is above the bay in the historic Fairhaven district so just the drive there is relaxing. If one could see out the window, it overlooks the bay above the ferry dock. Hardwood floors, pleasant earth tone interior design, a sassy receptionist were also to be noted.
There is also a train track nearby so I listened to the train going by. This would be disruptive to most people, I think. I loved it though. I really liked it also when a lawnmower started up. Nothing says impending Spring like a lawnmower. A car passed by with its music blaring and I am still trying to figure out what song it was. So, you know: total relaxation for the ADD. Lots of noise to entertain it so I could relax.
There was, of course, the asian style music of flutes and chimes playing. Normally, this music makes me stabby - the exact opposite of it's intent. I just don't enjoy the sound of it. (obvs.) But I will admit that it was soothing after time passed and that it becomes just white noise eventually.
I still don't know that a massage would be on my list of things to do with my free time, especially considering that this massage mainly focuses on my leg and hip. If it was a head-to-toe thing then I'm not so sure.
Although I did feel pretty groovy when I left. Yep, I said it: groovy.
21 February 2013
18 February 2013
Who is Your Daddy?
We had dinner tonight with Kevin's aunt and old family pictures came up in conversation.
I missed how it started but Kevin's dad was proudly showing pictures in his wallet to his mother Then Kevin's mom handed Kevin the wallet to show him. Kev took it, looked puzzled then frowned.
He turned the wallet and showed me. I gasped, laughed then smacked his arm " NO! No that did not just happen!"
Kevin handed the wallet back and said "Oh my God. That is NOT me!"
His dad had been carrying a photo of one of their friends sons. For YEARS. Thinking it was Kevin. His mom even defended him. "Kevin, that's you."
"No Mom it's not me. I , of all people, would know Me!"
The picture is of a boy that is younger than me and I am seven years younger than Kevin. The picture is in full color while his brothers is faded to near sepia. The child in the photo is wearing a polo shirt and Cosby sweater.
In Kevins dad's defense, he was a long haul truck driver and missed a lot of the boys childhoods. But the fact that that Both Parents mistook the wrong picture is the stuff of sitcoms.
His mother finally said "Well you both have such good dark hair."
I missed how it started but Kevin's dad was proudly showing pictures in his wallet to his mother Then Kevin's mom handed Kevin the wallet to show him. Kev took it, looked puzzled then frowned.
He turned the wallet and showed me. I gasped, laughed then smacked his arm " NO! No that did not just happen!"
Kevin handed the wallet back and said "Oh my God. That is NOT me!"
His dad had been carrying a photo of one of their friends sons. For YEARS. Thinking it was Kevin. His mom even defended him. "Kevin, that's you."
"No Mom it's not me. I , of all people, would know Me!"
The picture is of a boy that is younger than me and I am seven years younger than Kevin. The picture is in full color while his brothers is faded to near sepia. The child in the photo is wearing a polo shirt and Cosby sweater.
In Kevins dad's defense, he was a long haul truck driver and missed a lot of the boys childhoods. But the fact that that Both Parents mistook the wrong picture is the stuff of sitcoms.
His mother finally said "Well you both have such good dark hair."
16 February 2013
Intestines on a Table
The Nephew thought that we hadn't spent near enough time in a hospital recently so he decided to need surgery.
Our lovely boy has Crohns disease and it has been kicking him pretty hard recently. He spent a few days in the hospital a few weeks ago and just hasn't been feeling well for a while.
Finally, it landed him in the hospital and with surgery. They took out an abscess (effing ow) and a small section of small intestine & colon, where the two meet.
He has a pretty decent incision in his belly but not as large as one would think.
They literally took his guts out and worked on them while on a table. We've been joking that his new band name can be "Intestines on a Table". Yes, we are a dark bunch.
Today he was supposed to have the epidural taken out but not so much. I'm a little anxious about his pain levels once that occurs. Also, we noticed today that it appears he has stitches in his back as well. (no, not epidural marks but stitches)
The good news of all of this is that he will only feel better from here. We know for certain that the Crohns hasn't ravaged his organs, which can happen just not now.
But he is six foot two inches tall and walks around at 220 pounds. He is currently at 160 pounds. He shoulders are jutting, his jawline is pronounced, and he's got chicken legs. It's just sad.
More sad is watching the kids - bigs and littles - try to figure this whole thing out and watch his fiancee try to figure out how to be in a relationship with a sick spouse. She's been a good soldier, tamping down her fear and making everything as right as she can.
It always makes us laugh that nurses and doctors comment "Wow, there are a lot of people here!" We always say "We can make it worse. One phone call." Now we can say "We can add five kids if you think it's a good idea."
So, that's where we have been for the last almost two weeks. Visiting a sick boy in the hospital.
When we sent The Nephew off to surgery, we each took a moment with him. I just tried to choke out a cheery "You got this." Kevin gave him an awkward white boy fist bump then I noticed that Kev kind of spun around and walked away afterward. It was his version of taking-a-moment. He mentioned a little while later while we were alone in the elevator that it choked him up sending him off to surgery.
I told him that of course it did. "That's our boy too." He's the closest thing we have to a child.
Our lovely boy has Crohns disease and it has been kicking him pretty hard recently. He spent a few days in the hospital a few weeks ago and just hasn't been feeling well for a while.
Finally, it landed him in the hospital and with surgery. They took out an abscess (effing ow) and a small section of small intestine & colon, where the two meet.
He has a pretty decent incision in his belly but not as large as one would think.
They literally took his guts out and worked on them while on a table. We've been joking that his new band name can be "Intestines on a Table". Yes, we are a dark bunch.
Today he was supposed to have the epidural taken out but not so much. I'm a little anxious about his pain levels once that occurs. Also, we noticed today that it appears he has stitches in his back as well. (no, not epidural marks but stitches)
The good news of all of this is that he will only feel better from here. We know for certain that the Crohns hasn't ravaged his organs, which can happen just not now.
But he is six foot two inches tall and walks around at 220 pounds. He is currently at 160 pounds. He shoulders are jutting, his jawline is pronounced, and he's got chicken legs. It's just sad.
More sad is watching the kids - bigs and littles - try to figure this whole thing out and watch his fiancee try to figure out how to be in a relationship with a sick spouse. She's been a good soldier, tamping down her fear and making everything as right as she can.
It always makes us laugh that nurses and doctors comment "Wow, there are a lot of people here!" We always say "We can make it worse. One phone call." Now we can say "We can add five kids if you think it's a good idea."
So, that's where we have been for the last almost two weeks. Visiting a sick boy in the hospital.
When we sent The Nephew off to surgery, we each took a moment with him. I just tried to choke out a cheery "You got this." Kevin gave him an awkward white boy fist bump then I noticed that Kev kind of spun around and walked away afterward. It was his version of taking-a-moment. He mentioned a little while later while we were alone in the elevator that it choked him up sending him off to surgery.
I told him that of course it did. "That's our boy too." He's the closest thing we have to a child.
11 February 2013
You Can Lead a Dog to her Bed
This is not the only story about throwing food that I can tell.
Missy always seems to know when there is a possibility of her getting leftovers from dinner. We are unsure where she gained these skills and we feel it's probably best not to ask.
We had french fries at dinner tonight. (yes, we are six. shut up.) When we were finished, Kevin threw a fry from the dinner table to the kitchen floor, close to where she was laying in the laundry room.
It took her a few seconds but she found it. He continued to toss a few fries for her, finding that he had to throw it where she saw it or she wouldn't find it. Her hearing is nearly gone now and her sniffer has never been great. I'm sure she would say she lost it in the war, a la Snoopy, but I really think she never had a good one.
Kevin thought it would be a great idea to throw fries down the hall, leading to her bed. For about fifty feet, Missy would take a few steps, wait for the fry to fall from the sky as if magically, eat it, then take a few more steps.
This is behavior that I just roll with because really, what's the harm? And I get a good story out of it.
Finally I hear an unusual sound. I don't even turn to look because Kevin is laughing. "It landed on top of the china cupboard." He says nonchalantly. Then he follows with "WHO DOES THAT!?!?!?"
I just started clearing the table. Missy went to bed. We're used to him by now.
Missy always seems to know when there is a possibility of her getting leftovers from dinner. We are unsure where she gained these skills and we feel it's probably best not to ask.
We had french fries at dinner tonight. (yes, we are six. shut up.) When we were finished, Kevin threw a fry from the dinner table to the kitchen floor, close to where she was laying in the laundry room.
It took her a few seconds but she found it. He continued to toss a few fries for her, finding that he had to throw it where she saw it or she wouldn't find it. Her hearing is nearly gone now and her sniffer has never been great. I'm sure she would say she lost it in the war, a la Snoopy, but I really think she never had a good one.
Kevin thought it would be a great idea to throw fries down the hall, leading to her bed. For about fifty feet, Missy would take a few steps, wait for the fry to fall from the sky as if magically, eat it, then take a few more steps.
This is behavior that I just roll with because really, what's the harm? And I get a good story out of it.
Finally I hear an unusual sound. I don't even turn to look because Kevin is laughing. "It landed on top of the china cupboard." He says nonchalantly. Then he follows with "WHO DOES THAT!?!?!?"
I just started clearing the table. Missy went to bed. We're used to him by now.
09 February 2013
Swistle Will Agree
Our friend Swistle is Not A Fan of Poetry. This is perfectly fine, especially when presented with poetry such as this. With this, I find myself unable to defend poetry at all. This, dear Swistle, is for your entertainment and mockery:
I grew up reading the likes of Frost, etc so this new style of poetry is confusing to me. Where is the structure, the rhyming, the SENSE? It seems like the most recent poetry I've read makes me feel like I'm having a stroke, or at very least, high.
Howard Stern, of all people, was discussing poetry shortly after the Inauguration. He wondered about the same that is stated above upon listening to the poem recited during the ceremony. His cohort, Robin, postulated that poetry has turned more like prose.
Then I had to go look up what the difference was between poetry and prose. (Hey, I've been out of high school for twenty-cough years) It seems that it boils down to word count and descriptiveness. Technically, there is supposed to be formatting in poetry but I'm finding that to less and less the case.
Has traditional poetry gone away? Is it too much to ask for poetry to, you know, actually tell a story and make sense? I would enjoy some vivid imagery instead of inducing stroke symptoms with its "creativity".
La Noche
by Anselm Hollo
the wind let loose in the dark
and the lights of the city moving
the city is a great dragon it is a procession
it is on the move
but the curtains are drawn
the music unheard
see men and women preparing themselves
for the long journey across a room
I grew up reading the likes of Frost, etc so this new style of poetry is confusing to me. Where is the structure, the rhyming, the SENSE? It seems like the most recent poetry I've read makes me feel like I'm having a stroke, or at very least, high.
Howard Stern, of all people, was discussing poetry shortly after the Inauguration. He wondered about the same that is stated above upon listening to the poem recited during the ceremony. His cohort, Robin, postulated that poetry has turned more like prose.
Then I had to go look up what the difference was between poetry and prose. (Hey, I've been out of high school for twenty-cough years) It seems that it boils down to word count and descriptiveness. Technically, there is supposed to be formatting in poetry but I'm finding that to less and less the case.
Has traditional poetry gone away? Is it too much to ask for poetry to, you know, actually tell a story and make sense? I would enjoy some vivid imagery instead of inducing stroke symptoms with its "creativity".
03 February 2013
For Rent
This is the message board next to our door. It rarely is used. Until about a month ago, it read "Missy was a very good girl. Love, Niece" from three years ago when she took care of the dog while we were in Vegas.
Kevin decided to build Missy a new doghouse on our deck. She has one that is attached to our shop but Kevin thought she might like a bigger one on the deck where she could see more of the goings-on.
So he drew me a diagram of what he was thinking. Later on, I added the "dog" drawing and labeled it Missy's Condo.
Well, the dog sleeps in it only occasionally. We don't know why. It's big, it's insulated, and has cozy blankets. She seems attached to the old dog house. She's an old dog and you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Or apparently make her sleep in a new condo. Also, how optimistic is Kevin to build an old dog a new house?
I noticed Friday that Kevin had added the "for rent" sign onto the drawing.
I then crossed out Missy's name and added Lucky's because he does spend time in there.
And this is how we spend our time.
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