and, good bye Hermia

So, I just got home from a long long long session meeting at church (why is there so much business that needs to be done? can't church just be church and do its own self-management!?) And I'm exhausted, and I sit down to have time with Doug and I look immediately to the cage in the living room, and there she is on her side dead.

I am fucking devastated. I should have taken her to the vet yesterday to see if she had something that could be cured after her sister died on Saturday but I did not. I was saying "I need to write a check to my lawyer for 2000 dollars and I have 200 dollars in my checking account so ... what the hell am I going to pay a VET with?" And she was eating, and she was pooping solid poops which looked fine to me, and she was drinking, I saw her.

And she's fucking dead.

I can't even.

Shadows and perceptions

I just dropped off Doug's Jeep. The brakes failed... he'd been adding break fluid to them but ... now they barely work, and I do mean barely. Luckily the garage is literally visible from our house and I never had to speed up with traffic coming behind me. I managed to coast into the lot and hit the emergency brake to stop it.

On the very short walk home I looked down at my shadow. My hair is very long, and it was "out" as it were, not pulled back in a scrunchy or restrained in any way. There was a slight breeze, and my hair was aflutter. The sun at my back gave me the perfect perspective of this Birth of Venus-esque vision of my tresses.

Suddenly, I was reminded of a similar scene when I was perhaps a sophomore in High School. I was walking in downtown Huntington Village NY, my hometown, and my shadow-hair looked ... awesome. Bouncy and carefree, it looked as if my hair was just flowin' in the breeze, like I was right out of some Marshall Tucker Band song, or perhaps Dan Fogelberg would write a tune about how lovely my locks lilted.

I walked with a dance to my step, imagining that I too must look as wonderful as I perceived my hair to look! Grinning and happy, I felt like I must be gorgeous today.

Until I walked past a store with reflective glass in the window and realized, sadly, I looked like crap, I looked ridiculous, possibly like a maniac or a psycho. My hair wasn't gorgeous, it was long, stringy, tangled and sloppy looking. I stopped my bouncy jaunt and resumed walking like a normal human being.

And today I remembered that, out of the blue, for no reason.

It's a hard world for small things. Guinea Pig number 3...

In the course of events in this blog and this family life, long time readers know we've had some guinea pigs.

First, you will perhaps remember the saga of Oreo, Jess' first guinea pig.  Oreo met her untimely demise when Geoff decided to give her a bath because she smelled funny. The thoughts of this family event still break my heart and make me cry.

After a while, Jess wanted to try it again and we went to the pet store and shopped for a new pig. One stood up in the cage and sang to her, and we knew he was ours. The kid at the pet store didn't know if it was a boy or a girl, so we named it "Gordon," after the Barenaked Ladies song "Steven Page is Having a Baby." He sings, "And if it's a boy I'll call him Gordon, and if it's a girl I'll call her Gordon. I just like the name Gordon."  We thought that was perfectly appropriate. Turns out Gordon was a boy after all... our vet checked him out for us.

Gordon lived a good long life and was super cuddly and friendly and always wanted to be held. He loved the backyard, the dogs liked him. He ate flowers and grass and sat on the table while we did arts & crafts.

He got sick one day and the vet told us it was scurvy and a respiratory infection. She gave us antibiotics for the respiratory infection, and a prognosis that was not so good.

Geoff and I applied amazing veterinary care for several days to keep him comfortable and happy. We fed him and watered him with an eye dropper, we hand washed him since he could only lay on his side and then he'd be covered in pee. He could not poop, so I had to assist him with mineral oil and a Q-tip.

The lengths we went to for that pig, I tell ya.

He died one day before we left for church, and when we got home he jumped into my hands when I reached into the cage. We rejoiced.

But Zombie guinea pig didn't last much longer... he died shortly thereafter.

A couple years ago, Geoff asked for some more guinea pig love in his life so I decided to stop by the pet store and see what they had one Christmas eve day.

The pet store lady told me they were from the same litter as she held them in her hand. They were curled up together, so sweet and small... a black and white one and a tortoise colored one with a rosette on her head. I doubted they were really FROM the same litter, but they were the tiniest and they were together. So they came home with me.

Geoff named them Helena and Hermia, from Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream."  If you know the characters, one is plain and thinks no one loves her. The other is more beautiful and beloved... He decided the one with the rosette on her head would be the "more beautiful" one, and the other one, black and white and ordinary in appearance, would be the lesser beauty... so the character names seemed fitting.

Over time, they became backdrop to our story. They were always there, they would wheep wheep wheep to me when I walked in the room because it became clear almost immediately that I was the primary feeder and care giver. Neither of them liked to be held. They would run like crazy all over the cage to avoid being picked up, and once caught, they'd fight. So we stopped trying to hold them.

Geoff used them as his pets in the Pet Care Merit Badge for Boy Scouts. Our last guinea pig, Gordon, loved to sit in the grass and eat dandelion stems in the yard. Geoff figured he'd set these girls down in the grass and talk about them. Both of them ran like LIGHTNING out away from the circle of kids. Two guinea pigs, on the loose.  

We'd talk to them, we'd spend time with them, we'd clean their cage. I think I talked to them every day.

This morning I came to talk to them, and Helena was on her side breathing heavy. I picked her up, she was struggling to breathe... I held her and Doug got a towel. Geoff came down and held her as we researched in the Google machine what could possibly be the problem. We didn't even have to discuss it. We have no money, a vet visit for a one pound guinea pig is a lot of money. If she made it through the weekend, which I doubted 99% she would, I'd bring her to the vet but we decided that the best course of action was to hold her and make her comfortable.

She was so soft.

Geoff went upstairs and I held her, stroking her and helping her when she pooped by cleaning it up with a paper towel. She didn't last longer than an hour. I'm kind of relieved that she went fast because I don't think that I could have made it through the weekend holding her and patting her and stroking her.

So there you go. Three guinea pigs in eleven years have met their demise in our house. Hermia is left, with her tortoise shell coloring and her rosette upon her forehead. I'm horribly worried that she is next, because whatever this was that took Helena came fast. She was fine last night.

To quote the movie Raising Arizona, "It's a hard world for small things." And right now it is a hard world for me. I'm very sad.

barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain...

When I was in 7th grade, I saw a report on some news show about this guy who played guitar and piano. He was high energy, wrote great songs about the mean streets, laughed a lot on stage, had a bunch of fantastic players in his band.

Instant love.

I remember going to my best friend's house to play, and told her about the news program I had seen. I reenacted something he did, where he was playing his guitar and jumped up on the grand piano and laid down on his back with his legs flailing and kicking around.  In doing so, I broke her bed when I went up in the air and landed on my back... and boy did we get in trouble.

Tonight he is in Boston, sound checking for his show at Fenway Park. My friend J is listening and commenting about it on Facebook, torturing me. Making me completely jealous. I've never had the honor of seeing him live. I would love to. I would really love to.

Instead, I have to live with the memory of breaking my friend's bed, and listening to his music in the summer time, drinking beer in the soft summer rain while hanging out with my best friends on the mean streets of Huntington NY.

So, some blood work...

I got my blood work back. Much better news than I thought.

"Your diabetes control has significantly improved with your weight loss and healthy lifestyle habits! Your A1C is now 6.1% which is EXCELLENT!"

her words. the goal range is "4.4 - 6.3" so you see a 6.1 is "in acceptable range" after being CLOSE to 8 or whatever it was, I made it into the range and while I didn't kick its ass like doug did, i got in the range.

My cholesterol is still high, at 215. the bad LDL cholesterol is 125 and should be under 100. the good cholesterol was awesome at 55, so the average/combined reading works out math wise works out to "average" and it was a happy result. my glucose was 139 so that was still too high so I need to fix that. So, when I walk daily, my glucose lowers. so when i get out and walk it helps.

And I have to get back to walking. often. and that 139 will get lower. aah.

Also, I have not gotten to my weight loss target weight, but overall have lost close to 30 pounds. I am 2 pounds away from that. Two Freaking Pounds, yo. I'm not going too hard on myself, because that's pointless and counter productive. I did my diet for 100 days and  Carrie and I decided to restart the count so I'm on day 9 now. or day 109. depending on how you look at it. I am chronicling my food intake, I just need to get back to walking as much as I did while I was at the contract web design job. I have barely walked at all while back at "awesome."

She said come back in September for a retest. I hope to be in that 5 range where Doug has managed to get himself.

I miss beer, but it isn't worth having to take medication to enjoy. Sad but true.

Figured all y'all would like that update. 

What I have been up to, or why I love my job

Week 3 of summer camp at the cooking school is over, with probably some of the most interesting stories to date. Some of them I will not share here, lest people come across them and see themselves, or feel that I'm being ... exaggeraty.

But.

Let me just say this: Folks... when somebody asks you "Are there any foods you do not eat due to dietary restrictions, such as pork, or due to allergies, like maybe peanuts?" Answer the question. Don't call the next day and say "Um, I should have taken you seriously when you asked me that... because my daughter came home with pork chops. And we don't eat pork..."

Also, News Flash: A cooking series focusing on Italian cooking from many different regions will have pork in it. Believe it or not, Italians eat more than Pasta.

Anyway. Keep reading, dear reader...

Know where your food comes from....

Yesterday Doug and I spent the day at the home of a friend of a friend ... killing chickens.

Every year they do 20 chickens in the spring, and then whatever is left over from the group the last weekend in June. Doug participated in the spring kill, and the chickens were all about 2 pounds max. They get them go to this point and they become roasters and fryers, 8-12 pounds max.

It's amazing how much they can grow in a short period of time.

These folks have been doing this for two decades. We know a family through Boy Scouts who introduced us to these folks.

Last year Doug indicated to his friend that he wanted to work on learning something useful, in case there is an EMP, a zombie apocalypse, some sort of catastrophe.

Knowing how to do this and do it correctly is important.  Also, we both feel that it is important to be part of the process of bringing food to the table. We "farm" at home with tomatoes and other veg. Learning how to bring meat to the table is an important thing. I think both Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern have expressed that Americans need to be more in touch with that process, that bringing food to the table process, and everyone should do this at least once.

Parenting and Softball

If I am being too judgmental here, please lecture me. Let me know I'm off base. I'm open to your thoughts. But I honestly have to write this entry and get this off of my chest.

Last week we headed out to Western Pennsylvania. My niece is on a softball team and they had two playoff games. Well, the first playoff game would have given them a day off from the second one, if they won it.

They didn't win.

It was a hard game. The other team was mostly bigger girls, older girls, and they were skilled. Hardcore. Tough. So they lost.

During the game there were two moms on the other side of the field who were dressed ridiculously, in hot pink, the team color, and they were screaming loudly... not really routing for the girls but ... screaming. They also were smoking right on the fence, which in and of itself made me rather angry because for chrissake "ladies," do you need to smoke RIGHT at the teams, your team and the other team? Take it 50 feet away, wouldya?

Anyway, the other team won game one, and after the girls shook hands at home plate, one of the moms took to the field with a sign and a mask on her face, and rounded the bases, shaking her ass at each base. 

I took a picture of her moving from second base to third. My sister in law thinks she gave me the finger at one point.

I did not take a picture of her shaking her ass AT US on third base, shaking her ass AT my niece's team at home plate.

The girls on my niece's team stood and watched her incredulously. And I felt horrible for them. And then I felt really horrible for whoever this woman's daughter is. It isn't enough that her team won. No. She has to make it about her, and her shenanigans. And I was deeply disturbed that someone would go to this length.

Just let the moment belong to your kid. It's her win. Not your opportunity to taunt a bunch of 9-13 year olds with your pink and black tutu. Stop it.

In the meantime, the little girl on my niece's team who was up last and struck out felt like she lost the game.

She didn't lose the game. There were plenty of opportunities for the game to be won. Her strike out with a score of 9-7 wasn't the reason the game was lost. But... when you feel that way, you feel that way.

And I watched her daddy and her mom comfort her. And I was so touched by the love and support that I snuck this picture of the moment. I normally wouldn't take a picture of someone in grief like this, but ... I had to balance out the visuals.

Where is the better parenting here? I think you know.

I pondered these things for the better part of the day. Geoff and I talked about it, he was disappointed that his cousin's team lost, and he said that the woman who booty-shook the bases in her victory lap was "on crack." I promised him that I love him, I will cheer for him, appropriately, and I would never in a million years embarrass him. I asked if that woman's behavior was embarrassing to her daughter and he said absolutely. And he knew I would never do that because I'm not "on crack."  Then I asked him if I did embarrass him when I'm at games and I'm cheering and taking pictures and he said no. I asked if he'd tell me if I ever did, and he said he would.

In the meantime, I'm exceptionally proud of my niece and her team. They had to play a second game after losing, and they won that one keeping their playoff hopes alive.

And none of the parents on the other team taunted or wore tutus. Thank God.

Here's a picture or two of the lovely niecey bringing the heat.

The rest of our trip was great. We went to Ohio, we went to the Rogers Sale. We got license plates. We saw Doug's grandma and it made her day. We went on the cemetery tour of eastern Ohio to see the graves of Doug's father's family. And we had a wonderful campfire poolside at my sister in law's house.

It was a very good trip. Pictures are in Flickr. Enjoy.

mountain

I went camping with Geoff this weekend.

We were with the Boy Scout Troop and were supposed to participate in an annual Saco River cleanup around Fryeburg Maine, but the water was so high there were no banks to clean up. The water was up in the woods. So with no banks with trash on them, and high dangerous water, there was no point to clean up anything. They canceled the canoeing portion of the trip. Our troop leaders made the decision to still go on the trip, because we would be camping for free (that's part of the exchange for doing the cleanup).

Geoff was incredibly disappointed, he didn't want to go if there wasn't going to be canoeing, but I was slated as one of the drivers, they needed me to go. I told him it would still be fun, it'd be great.. He doubted it...  we fought about it. I told him he had to go because I wasn't going to go by myself on HIS camping trip. Reluctantly he agreed.

We've stayed at this campground before, but this time, because everyone was canceled for the canoeing NO one was there. Except for us. We had the whole place to ourselves. It was fantastic.

We got up there at 9pm, pitched tents, built a fire, and had some fun. The morning came and we went hiking instead of the planned canoe trip.

Our assistant scoutmaster told us it was an "easy" hike. About a mile and a half. Easy. I've been walking a lot, I've lost about 20 pounds. I was feeling really good about myself... until I got to the first incline.

Oh holy shit. I'm not in better shape. I'm still a big fat giant bucket of lard. The boys were halfway up the hill, the "MOUNTAIN!" and I was struggling to get along.

My friend Sheryl walked with me. She could have been a mile ahead but she walked with me. Kept me focused on getting up the hill.

Eventually I made it. And not THAT much further behind the group. I could see them the whole time. A year ago I think I might have died, but ... I made it. It was hard. So hard. But I did it.

The funny thing was I had brought this cross with me. My neighbor Thane had made it in shop class, and left it in my car. When I realized it was there, it made me smile.

I tied it to my backpack and said "I'll take Thane with me." He wasn't on our trip, he would have been but he had a workday at the summer camp where he'll be employed this year.  In walking up the hill, the knot slipped and the cross ended up dangling down the full length on the rope. Luckily it didn't fall off the pack, but ...

It kept swinging, and poking me.

In the butt.

Which made me start laughing on so many levels. It was like God was prodding me on. Poking me. Or Thane was... I was giggling at the concept, and it kept me going. I told Thane when I got home and he thought it was funny too.

There was an old mine at the top of the mountain and the boys had fun sampling rocks and working with two of the scoutmasters on a lot of geology... and throwing rocks at each other. We ate our lunch at a beautiful overlook.

The hike down took less than a half hour. It's fun moving downhill.

One of the scoutmasters has a family summer home nearby on a lake, so we went over there after the hike for swimming and kayaking. I sat in the shade with my sore feet elevated and watched the kids play on the float they assembled for the family and pulled the 50 yards out into the lake. They played King of the Float for over an hour. It was a great time.

And for the boy who didn't WANT to go on the trip because there wouldn't be canoeing... he didn't get into a canoe once and still had a very very good time.

That night, we had a big bonfire and played a game called "mafia" which was a screaming, rousing success. Geoff got to play "storyteller" for most of the stages of the game. He was incredibly funny. Each time, he stood up, put his hands behind his back and opened the tale of how the victim was slain and why. And each one he made up on the spot, and they were incredibly funny.

I slept like I was dead.

All told, it was a great weekend trip. I spent a lot of time with Sheryl and with my friend Jay, new to the troop but not new to me. His son is one of the new Scouts in the troop as of March and it was so fun to hang out with him this weekend. He cracks me up. Here he is pontificating and preaching in the pulpit of Bacon. We had 4 skillets going at once, each one cooking a pound of bacon. Yes we did. And it was good.

I still feel like my legs are going to fall off, but I took a 1.6 mile walk at lunch today and it felt good after about a mile.

Maybe I am getting stronger.

Pictured below, me and my son. Jay almost got him to smile. And I just look like someone beat me up, but ... I did it.

Walkies

So part of my trying to prevent myself from having Diabetes is to go for walks and get more exercise. I used to have excellent blood sugars, never over 120 after a meal, with fasting always between 60 and 70. Now, my fasting blood sugar has yet to get below 130, since I've been testing it as part of this diet. The good news is when I started testing it, my fasting blood sugar was about 150. So knocking it down 20 points is good, but not good enough.

I get my A1C retested at the beginning of July so ... if it isn't below 5.6% ... I get to go on medication to control it. So... wish me luck.

Anyway, where I work there is a beautiful campus, with walking trails and many options for which direction I would like to go. I try to get in at least a mile. I walk a 19 minute mile for the most part. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower.

The weather in the last week has been horribly wet and damp, so I only got out one day, Thursday, and on my way back to the building the sky opened up and then it started to hail.

My walks for the most part are solo endeavors, but I try and connect with our tech writer Jan and go sometimes. She's lovely. I think she comes here early in the morning, runs 4 or 5 miles, and then takes a walk at lunch. Kind of crazy if you ask me but ... she is great and I like her company. And we tend to walk a little faster when we're together.

Before I leave here, we are hoping to do the big loop, leave the property, walk out to the back road, come out to 1A, come back around the front and up the driveway. I am not sure how far it is, it will probably take us an hour is my guess.

In the meantime, this is an example of one of the walks I try and get in. Today with Jan was almost 2 miles.

I did a workout with MapMyWALK! Distance: 1.93mi, time: 00:35:07, pace: 18:13min/mi, speed: 3.29mi/h.

View route

soc.li

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