I forgot...

I forgot to post anything here in a while. Sorry. TOo much to do.

The perfect (raw) turkey

It was perfect. Yes it was. It was gorgeously browned, skin crisp, meat moist and flavorful. Just perfect. Except for the raw part. So we cut off the perfect breast meat and threw the rest of the carcass back in the oven to cook. The dressing is cooking at the same time, thus assuring that nothing will be finished on time. Oh well. At least it LOOKED good.

Luddites and other fearful creatures

My daughter's teacher is a Luddite. Of course, I had to explain the meaning of the word "luddite'' to HER, because, well, she is a 15 year old girl and not privy to all words in the dictionary. Unlike myself, who has been privy but has forgotten all of them now. Except for "luddite", of course. I told her to call her teacher a luddite and see how he took it, but she's afraid of him killing her (something about a pistola), so she is going to tell her friend Jacki who will then call him Luddite and ostensibly be killed by the pistola. Good times.

So. There is the smallest of possibilities that I could have leukemia. Now ain't that a pip? I would dismiss it out of hand if it weren't for the fact that I have several other rare conditions. It just seems very unlikely that ONE person could have so many different diseases that are so rare. But there you have it.

What would I do if I actually DO have it? Well, die I suppose. I don't know what else would happen. Tom is freaking a bit on me, although he seems to have calmed down some now. Tom's mother died of leukemia. I don't know if he could handle it at all. I don't know how much I could expect him to handle. Truly.

Sunday Memories

A song on the radio brought back a very vivid memory this morning. I was suddenly sitting in the old country church my grandparents attended, listening to a tinny piano bang out an ancient hymn, and I was wearing a frothy confection of a Sunday dress with a binding bodice and puffy sleeves. There was a white hat and gloves and pinchy patent leather Sunday shoes. It was probably in the summer because all the windows were open. Industrious wasps and dirt daubers buzzed in the corners building nests that were destined to be broken down eventually. Somehow they weren't quite fooled by the blue ceiling paint that lore said ensured their absence.

I gazed out the window to the tiny cemetery beyond. That cemetery always fascinated me as a child, with its population of ancient tombstones covered in small trinkets. For some reason we never tried to pry those small treasures from their places among the dead. Somehow they seemed right- they were home.

This, of course, never stopped us from playing hide and seek amongst the graves and in the small woods beyond the church. My cousins and sisters and I were a sort of girl's club. It was unofficial of course. We were an impenetrable sisterhood of secrets and giggles, mysterious and raucous at the same time. The six of us were bound back then by our pouffy dresses and how fast we could get out of them after church.

AHA! AHA I say!

I KNEW IT! The doc said I *might* have a small meniscus tear, but he felt that most of my pain was coming from my OLD KNEES. As if. He said that the exploratory arthroscopy would remove the damaged tissue and such, but he doubted that it would stop my pain. Well. TOday when they did the scope, he found a substantial meniscus tear. HA I SAY! HA! I KNEW IT. Freaking tell me I don't know my own body.

At any rate, he repaired the tear and removed some of the damaged tissue, and I should be good to go in a few weeks. I start physical therapy on Monday, which should be tons of fun. But I am so relieved. A real solution to a real problem. God is good.

Like a shark through shalllow water...

I am fidgety and a perpetual motion machine right now. I am a shark slicing through the water, but without the appetite for sea lions. Oh, I'm sure to a shark a sea lion is mighty tasty, but sentient barking blubber does not appeal. Oh no it does not. I like my fried critters dumb and dumber.

It's that time of day where I either whip up a fabulous meal, or I succumb to the whinging of my spouse and make hot dogs. I'd as soon have fish (sea lion alert!), but I had that last night, and well, eating fish makes one smell fishy at times. I don't really care to have chicken. Beef might be all right. Veggies would be better. Okay okay, time to break out the cook book. TTFN.

Pain, the Less than Great Motivator

I would love to say that pain is a great motivator, that it drives you to do great things and incredible feats of daring-do and brainpower. But the truth is, pain seldom does those things. Mostly pain eats away at you. It saps your strength, your energy, your intellect, and your will to live. When every step brings pain, all you can do is sit. When sitting brings pain, all you can do is lay down. Few of us rise to the occasion when forced to lie still in a bed and contemplate the ceiling and its cobwebs.

I don't know how people like Stephen Hawking manage it. I certainly have not come close to anything like the Grand Unification Theory. At best, I concluded that Douglas Adams was right when he said the answer to everything was 42. Maybe Adams was in pain too. Then again, he managed to be funny and intelligent when writing, while all I can manage these days is to not spell words improperly when my spell checker points them out.

I get the results of my MRI on Thursday. That is, if I come up with my copay and make my appointment. If not, well, I will just limp onward without knowing precisely what it is that is causing so much pain. Most likely it is simply the fact of being overweight with slightly arthritic knees that is doing the trick. And the average doctor to this will brilliantly and enthusiastically say, You MUST lose weight! Oy. I wish *I* had thought of that. Really I do. Because hauling this enormous ass around has been so simple for me, it never occurred to me to lose weight. All fat people enjoy their fatitude. Really they do. It's a picnic, it is.

Which brings us back to pain. Having been in some form of pain for the past 15 years or so, I can honestly and enthusiastically say, it sucks. I am tired of it, and I wish it would stop. Occasionally I try to come up with a reason for it, like, it's making me a better person, or it is giving me a different perspective on life, or that it's somehow purifying my body. It's not, to all three of those things. Pain just hurts. It is a powerful distraction.

But if I feel myself getting purer, I'll let you know.

So verrrry bored...

Okay, not so much bored as tired. I worked down at OAT today, threw a couple of pots, chatted up a BUNCH of people, sold one teensy magnet, and that was about it. Dr. Who is on right now, but it's one I've seen several times so I'll pass. Top Gear was brillant, as usual. Now there's a concept for a show that Americans need to latch onto.

The kiddo is off with one of her friends, so it's quiet here. If I were ambitious I'd marinate the chicken, but I'm not terribly ambitious it seems.

Gah.

Or, what to do when you're out of sorts.

I'm having bank issues, as usual. Mostly, I have inability to add issues. I need a keeper. Seriously. I'm also having a mild anxiety attack this morning. Either that, or the coffee was just too strong. Yeah, I'll go with that one. Strong coffee = anxiety attack.

Caity is sick today. Rather, Caity didn't do her work as she should have, and is freaking out about it not being done on time, and that is what is upsetting her stomach. But shhhhh! Don't tell her that.

Off to the studio in a minute. I've got things to do, plants to plant, pots to throw, mice to make. And snails. Peeps love the snails. Basically, any small critter. I've got a bunch of stuff to glaze and fire, some things to refire, that sort of thing. And Fred needs to come get his fish. No, that's not code for anything. He has fish at my studio, and must come get them. Hee! They're coasters that I fired for him, that's all. Nothing fun and scandalous.
Later taters.

Well alrighty then.

Toally forgot about this blog. Honestly, I've toally forgotten about pretty much all of them. But lately I've been encouraged to blog again, so I suppose I shall. Since more people have access to this one that I actually know, I guess I'll keep it (relatively) clean. I wouldn't be me if I got overly anal about what I posted, now would I?

I've got a website of my pottery and artwork going up very soon. I'm quite excited about it and darned proud. Me! On the Intarwebz! W00t!

Went shopping with my younger sister today for furniture. It's amazing just how anal retentive about fabric one person can be, until exactly the opposite of what she's been looking for appears at the right price. Hee! Well, she made a good deal, got a festive sofa, it's comfy and sturdy and cheap enough without being cheesy. I may drag the Tomster back there to look at this loverly green sofa. I wants it. And it's the right price too. And I am ready to set fire to our sofa with its broken leg and sproinging springs and its bleeding piping. The sofa and loveseat are 11 years old and it's so time to get a new one. I want two chairs as opposed to a sofa and loveseat. Hate loveseats now. They take up a lot of space and can only sit two people. Mostly they are meant for one person to slouch all over. At least, that's what We do. We shall see how things go.