Spasmodic Blog

Happy Monday

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CFaUlPHSY4

The Professional Patient: Weighing In

My current life is spent in one of two places: either

1) the car or

 2) some doctor's/healer's office. 

There seem to be numerous appointments -- dentist, pediatrician, acupuncture, psychiatrist, couples therapist, etc, etc -- and of course, the baby and his carseat get lugged (awkwardly) to all of them. 

One subject about which many of these professionals "weigh in" is WINE.  Yes, I've asked SEVERAL experts this one question:

EXACTLY HOW MUCH WINE  can I drink without damaging my body? (Which needs to last at least until the first grandchild arrives. Am I being too optimistic here?  Probably....)

Here are their answers:

DR. B., Psychiatrist:  "Most people drink 1-2 glasses of wine per night."

Mary Jo the Therapist:  "Alcoholism is a progressive disease."

DR. JOSH, Primary MD:  "I tell my patients that they can drink up to 2 glasses per night."

Brian, the Personal Trainer:  "8 oz, but only once a week."

James, the Underling Trainer: "4 oz, but only 2 times a week."

Margaret the Acupuncture Lady:  "You know, Lee, why don't you drink one glass a night and really nurse it, and tell yourself that you're a good mom?

WEIGHT WATCHERS:  a glass of wine = 2 points

---

As you can see, the results were varied.  Any thoughts?

To My Family: You may wish to skip this entry...

My parents and sister are Republicans, so I don't wish to upset them.  However, I've decided that the best possible outcome for my two older boys (or, perhaps the younger) would be to marry the Obama girls.  Why not?  I'm sure that Andre would make an excellent, stay-at-home dad while Malia is off doing her brilliant day-job.  And Sasha is totally adorable, and therefore highly appropriate for my equally adorable Dean.  He is only 3 years younger than she is.  That's not too much.  I'm 2 years older than David...

I told Andre of my plan and he laughed it off.  But he sounded a little embarrassed -- as if the idea wasn't COMPLETELY offensive.  Maybe he even likes the idea.  CAN YOU IMAGINE HAVING BARACK AND MICHELLE AS IN-LAWS?  Wow. Wow.

As you can see, I've got much hope for the future.  I prefer not to believe the negativity.  I'm really looking forward to inauguration day.  I think we should have a party. 

We Did It! I mean: Yes, We Did. I guess.

Except for the election, last week was terrible.  I had SADS, PMS, Depression AND post-partum hormonal issues combining to give me a knock-down, drag-out fight for survival.  It was bloody. ( Heh heh...)

And I fired Weight Watchers.  They just weren't working for me.  My metabolism appears to have come to a screeching halt.  Reversing, even.  I had been doing their Points plan for -- what? - 3 months, and had only lost 6 lbs.  I was NOT happy.

So I hired a personal trainer.  He's got a different plan, and he says he's helped "thousands of women" to lose weight.  Yeah, okay!  Yes, I can, I mean.

My first session was Friday.  It was good.  As the young, twenty-something trainer was instructing me on how to use the weight machines, I looked in the mirror.  I invented a new word:

Dellulite

This word refers to the dimply skin around one's (usually a female's) deltoid.  Dellulite.  Yes...I can see that I'm going to get really inspired at this place....

Red Cross Sunday, PT. 2

So David dropped me off at the condo complex the next morning.  There was a temporary chain link fence in front of it, which only the police, the building manager and WE, the Red Cross, were allowed to cross.  Disaster VIPs, if you will. 

There wasn't much to do.  The people outside the fence -- the former residents -- were awaiting their turn to cross the fence and enter the building.   Each person had to wear a hard hat.  Only small groups were allowed in at a time.  We watched while the groups went in. 

I remarked that, although almost every person said something like: "I'll only be a few minutes,"  ALL of the residents took quite a lot of time in the building.  It was as if they had lost track of time.  It probably felt like only a few minutes...as they frantically studied the leftovers of their apartments...

The fire had started at the top of the building.  A welder was fixing a copper gutter when, somehow, the slate roof began to emit smoke. He tried to pull off some of the tiles in an effort to find the source, only to find that a fire had sprung up all along the rafters.  He quickly sounded the alarm.

Although the firefighters came quickly, it wasn't quick enough.  It took over 2 hours to put out the fire, and by then the top floor was completely torched.  The rest of the building was soaked by the thousands of gallons of water that it took to put out the flames.  The result was a building half burned, half flooded. 

My first duty was passing out detergent packets.  The special Red Cross "mix", (as I was told, and then passed on to the residents) would "get the smoke and water out" of any salvaged clothes.  I sought out every person and gave them detergent until there were no packets left.  There.  Did that.

Otherwise, there was only transmission of information.  I told residents what I'd heard from the building manager.  I told the RC coordinator what I'd heard from the residents.  I introduced people.  I chatted.  I drank the coffee that came with the police detail.  It was really quite civil.

The last thing I did was put on a hard hat and accompany a woman up to the top floor.  Not much was salvageable.  Her dresser had been reduced to charcoal, then crushed by the soaked plaster ceiling.  There were only certain places we could walk.  The lady wasn't in great shape.  She talked to herself.  She yelled at the management when they wouldn't let her go in certain areas.  She picked up what remained intact.  She ignored what wasn't.

Then my shift was up.  Another Red Cross adventure, when I least expected it. 

Red Cross Sunday

This is weird: the tree that I wrote about in the last entry stands in front of building which caught fire on Halloween.  I was admiring the tree just a few hours before the structure behind it was engulfed in flames.

It was all over the news.  An old school building, converted into condos, was on fire after a workmen accidentally blow-torched the roof.  He was trying to repair an old copper gutter when somehow, the roof itself caught the heat. 

I got a call on my cell phone Friday afternoon.  It was the secretary at Andre's school:

"Is this Mrs. Amazeen?"  she asked.

Well, no. 

"Yes? " I answered, just anxious to hear what was wrong.

"There was a fire..."

Oh god. 

"And Bus 8 wasn't able to get through the town to pick up the kids.  I've got your son here in the office.  Do you want to pick him up?"

PHew....

And then Saturday, another phone call:  from the Red Cross.  The volunteer coordinator was wondering if I could go to the (now burned) condos on Sunday.  Former residents were being escorted inside to retrieve belongings.  Could I offer my services as a therapist? 

Just like Sarah Palin, I did not blink.

"Of course.  I'll be there."

TO BE CONTINUED

Happy Halloween

It's 9:14 AM, and I've already encountered 3 adults dressed as pirates.  (No, they were not together.)  I predict that there are more such characters in the future for all of us. 

This morning, there was a Halloween party at the preschool.   I left Dean there with his firefighter costume, which he refused to put on.  He takes after Andre, who also refused to don a costume for 3 years in a row, only to submit to the default firefighter outfit at the last minute each time.  Maybe "dressing up" is a girl thing?  Probably, huh.  Guess I'll have to hold onto that fireman outfit for a few more years.  Alex won't want to wear it, either.

I saw a raining Ginkgo tree as I drove away from the preschool.  I saw one last year, too -- Ginkgos like to drop their leaves all at once, like rain.  It even sounds like rain, if you listen closely.  It is so beautiful.  Funny how, just as we are putting on more clothes, the trees decide to take theirs off.  And the colors this year were fantastic!!  I almost drove off the road a few times, just admiring the trees.  Of course, I do that at most times of the year, anyhow.

Am I Naive?

Honestly, I think I might be naive.  The most recent claim about Barack Hussein Obama -- that he is a socialist -- and my own research lead me to believe this is possible.  And maybe Obama has been lying all this time about what his true agenda is.  Maybe he really still believes in "Black Theology" as espoused by the Rev. Jeremiah Wright.  Maybe Obama will make "the rest of the free world" disgusted with America....I just don't know. Obama may be none of the things that I believe him to be: an honest, even-tempered, non-violent, well-educated (well, at least there is proof of that) man who loves his family and doesn't cheat.  I will still vote for him, believing in what might not be true. I'm open, and more vulnerable than ever before.  We all are. 

The Cult of Facebook

Last week, one of my Red Cross buddies "invited" me to join Facebook.  I was genuinely pleased to be added to her "friend" list.  It's nice to be officially recognized.

After that, the "invites" started pouring in.  LOTS (I mean it) just TONS of people have come out of the woodwork,  just hoping to add me to their exclusive friendlists!  It makes a person feel pretty special, really....but 

  It seems as if every one I know is packed into this one site.  Except my parents.  But pretty soon they'll be on there, and then the Facebook people will have to change their name from "Facebook" to "U.S.  Census" to clear up any remaining confusion about who is and who is not registered at their web address...

I'm just bitter, that's all.  I got an invite from a hot guy from my high school, and it turned out that he was just inviting everyone from the Andover class of '89 to go to next June's reunion.  That was lame.  I felt really pathetic, because I had gotten kind of excited and curious as to why this guy (somebody who had never noticed me, I thought) might suddenly be interested in having me as his "friend".  Damn!  What a buzz kill. 

Rick Astley Returns

Neighbor Matt, who helped me through a rough patch at the Librafest, has also informed me and David of a new trend:  Being "Ricked".  He gave it another name which I've forgotten, but I got "Ricked" yesterday and here's how it happened:

I was surfing You Tube, looking for Sarah Palin's appearance on SNL.  The video that came up started with Sarah, then immediately turned into a "Rick Astley for President" commercial.  His famous '80s hit, "Never Gonna Give You Up" played in the background, as scenes from his video flashed before me.  Supplementing this were periodic ads stating "Rick Astley in '08" and "Astley: Never Gonna Let YOU Down in '08".

Another commenter on You Tube called it "getting Ricked."  This apparently happens quite frequently on the web nowadays.  Those darned kids!

My mood has picked up slightly.  I'm expecting my steel drum to arrive any day now.  It's a birthday gift from David which he had to special order.  I've always loved the sound of steel drums, so I decided that I should learn how to play one.  How hard can it be?  I figure it's probably on the level of xylophone in terms of complexity.  I used to play the piano and I learned how to use a recorder easily, so: YES, I CAN.  That is my motto today.  Right now.