Get sick? Don't have time!

I used to catch a "bug" now and then just like everyone else. I would get a sore throat, bronchitis, cold, strep throat, or just something icky in general. I ran fevers, needed to see the doctor, felt like crap in general off and on.

On a seemingly non-related topic, I also got divorced. During that time I went to a therapist for marriage counseling. I felt I was getting sick too often. I was sure it was due to stress from my job and from going through a divorce. She told me that we choose to get sick. That was a new concept to me! She taught me a form of self-hypnosis to supplement my meditation learned in martial arts. She told me to believe that I never get sick.

Damned if it didn't work. I often say now that I never get sick, and it is almost entirely true. I had a sore throat and bronchitis in 1997. I had a few sinus infections after that, and not even any of those for several years. I say I don't have time to get sick and I just don't.

When my daughter got old enough to learn to go to her "Happy Place" to escape the pain of innoculations and injuries, she also learned to stay healthy most of the time. She rarely gets sick either. She went from a child who would require 5 nurses to hold her down for one shot to a child who could just sit and watch a needle go into her leg for her next shot.

So I don't get sick. I don't avoid germs. I don't hesitate to kiss my friend goodnight when he is sick. Instead, I get crushed nerves in my foot, carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands, a terrifying reaction to the pneumonia vaccine, a bad reaction to hydrogen peroxide in an attempt to bleach my teeth, basal cell carcinoma, poison ivy, and other odd things that are probably worse than a cold. But hey, I don't get sick!

Girlie clothes

Just lifting weights is not enough. I also need more aerobic workouts, so I spent Saturday with my daughter. That meant going to 3 or 4 animal shelters seeking a new puppy for her. I still might go back and see about that 6 week old Jack Russell we saw. Such a cutie! We had a very nice dinner and covered a mall a few times. She isn't much taller than I am but really hauls butt when she walks.

I had wanted her opinion on a blouse so we stopped to see it. She totally approved. It's a nice, pretty blouse. We also picked up a new fingertip length trenchcoat for me in pink. It seems all the new clothes out this year are girlie clothes. No more jeans, sweats, pullovers, parkas, gym shoes. Out come the blouses, tailored pants, skirts, blazers, trenchcoats and strappy sandals. Oh boy! What could be better to to with my re-newly defined muscles than some well cut, pretty, feminine clothes? Can a new Prada purse be far behind?

Of course, so far I have done only my upper body exercises with 5 lb weights in single sets, but I didn't want to get sore and then skip some workouts. I did 16 different exercises covering 4 body areas. Today I will do lower body and abs. In a few days I will increase my hand weights to 8 pounds. I will do 10 lbs for biceps. It is cheering to hear my muscles thank me for working them again. They will look so sleek in my new celery colored blouse!

Former workout freak

I confess to having been a workout freak. When younger, I was in ballet, tap, modern jazz, and gymnastics. Later I returned to ballet for strength. I stayed off toe to protect my feet.

 A co-worker witnessed a shootout in Detroit while working (our job was never, ever boring) and signed up for self-defense classes. I tagged along for the exercise. I added beginning, then advanced judo. Then I was teaching. This was so much fun I added aikido and kendo classes. At that point I was doing martial arts at least 12 hours a week, plus practice time. To supplement the training, I lifted weights and ran. I also tried different karate styles, kickboxing, and weapons at times over the years.

I loved it. The workout was tremendous and no shoes were needed. I ignored the repeated injuries to my back, feet, hands and hips. My bodyfat was below 10% and I was way below 100 lbs.

Eventually the injuries slowed me down. I switched to aerobics and weight machines. I had to do power step. I had to do it 3-6 times a week.  Spending 3 hours at a time at the gym was not unusual. Injuries piled up. Knees, ankles, back, neck, feet.

The foot pain stopped me. After extreme pain and more than one misdiagnosis, I went through an EMG test, MRI, special shoes, shoe inserts, 4 cortisone shots, several Rx, PT, home exercises, and much denial. Eventually I got another misdiagnosis that led to surgery. I woke up hearing the doctor say, "I never saw anything like that before!" I had 3 nerves growing through the muscles. It was congenital, and all my years of pounding and damage finally crushed them to the point of leaving dents in the nerves.

I never quite got back to heavy workouts again. I miss it. I walk, I use light weights.  I harbor a strong fear of repeat pain. I now feel I have to do more than walk. So I am going to get back into serious weights. Wish me luck!

It's spring!

It's finally spring! How can I tell? It was warm enough to walk the beagles, aka "hogdogs" yesterday. After spending the early afternoon volunteer teaching a computer class to seniors, I ran home and tooks the girls out for their first walk since fall. These girls like to go and smell everything. They are nothing but noses with feet. I gave up on teaching them to heel and let them wander a bit so they don't miss anything as long as they don't pull. They love garbage eve.

I almost walked out without the pretty little blue plastic bags. Fortunately I remembered, since Baby decided the one place she had to leave a deposit was on the sidewalk of someone's driveway. Not a nice thing to come home to. Drive up the driveway, get out of the car in the garage, take a sniff.....kind of the way I feel when I come home and find a surprise on the master bathroom floor.

So we put in our usual 2 daily miles that we walk in nice weather. We ran into a few nieghbors. My ferocious watch dogs were all over them, kissing and whining with joy. They found a few juicy squirrels to frighten. No bunnies this time. We did almost get attacked by a large dog, but that is pretty much a daily occurrance. These studly attack dogs seem to be threatened by two spayed little beagles walking in harnesses.

Then I left them home and went back to substitute teach a Word class, covering paragraph formatting. Rough stuff; all those margin changes. After that, I came home, ran upstairs to the bathroom, found no surprises and proceeded to literally howl with Baby over her good behavior. She only recently started howling with me. I am not sure who taught whom, but it is fun. Dogs do bay with joy. I have to remember not to do that when I am in a public place, though.

Atheists Under God

We have a father aruging in front of the Supreme Court that his daughter should not be forced to say the words "Under God" during the pledge of allegiance. Well, now. The father is an atheist. The mother is a born again Christian. The child appears to be the product of divorce.

Should we end the reference to a god? Our forefathers came here to find religious freedom. Our country embraces thousands of religions. Our school administrators scramble to accommodate them, sometimes poorly. My child was called to the office once and accused of being a witch. She was maybe 13 years old. She will never forget the degrading way she was treated for possibly being a member of a legitimate religion. She wasn't a witch, or a member of any organized religion, but she sure learned in a hurry why our forefathers fled religious oppression.

Most Americans do believe in some sort of god. It may be a personal issue, an organized one, a vague thought, or just a fear of believing in nothing. Maybe some children don't like the colors of the flag. Or republics. The point is, they are pledging allegiance to their country, the one that gives them freedom to say I don't believe in *whatever.*

Let the atheists, like me, accept that the pledge is not religious oppression. It is pledging allegiance to a country that believes in freedom. Skip over the offending words; it won't hurt.

New car shopping

What better place to buy a car than the Motor City? We have almost as many car dealers as gas stations. There is no need to drive any great distance to check out two, three, or even four dealers for the same car. My lease was up on my car so I needed to look. I do not enjoy car shopping. I went to Jeep. I had a Jeep once and really enjoyed it. The salesman was great. He even let me take my beagles in and let the walk on both cloth seats and leather seats to see which would take the punishment better. The Grand Cherokee is a great deal for leases right now.

Then I went to Toyota to return my current ride. I drove the Highlander. Toyota is just a superior car. My car was made in the USA by Americans. When the Big 3 can provide the same quality and service as the Japanese dealerships can, then maybe I will switch to an American car. I think the gap is closing, but for now I still feel reliability and safety are important issues.

Salesmen for American cars talk about the color of the car, the body style, the color of the interior, the tires, overall stressing the visual. Salesmen for the Japanese cars discuss ratings, reliability, safety, quality, and other related issues. Color is the last thing they discuss. I prefer feeling safe to hoping the car color matches my hair.

Housekeeping

I was raised in a self-cleaning house. The beds were made, the sheets were clean, and dinner would be done at 6:10 pm. My mom didn’t work, so she was able to do it.

 

 As a little girl I balked at picking up my toys. I felt that homemakers subjugated themselves and sacrificed a potentially rewarding career for chasing dirt. I saw the role of homemaker not to be a choice but as a gender-linked, unwanted requirement and not for me.

 

It seemed my escape from being a housemaid was to work, go to college, and get a few degrees. I married, had a child, got divorced, and found myself with a child more rebellious than I could have ever hoped to be. This child taught me that it was not illegal to leave the house on Saturday mornings and go to a movie. I felt guilty, but was so tired from work that I went. I didn’t want her growing up thinking her mother was a refugee from I, Robot. We had fun. We also had some dust.

 

When she grew up I dated a man who said he was neat and tidy. However, he turned out to be tight and needy. I was wired from working long hours, trying to maintain my own home, and trying to help him with his. I was exhausted and unable to do it all.

 

Now I am retired. I get enough sleep for the first time in my life, and I can actually choose to spend some cleaning time without giving up a life or feeling like a resident maid. I feel a balance.

 

 

 

 

On being a redhead

 

As I was growing up I noticed that most people were taller than I was. Since my mom was short, I realized that if you plant apple seeds, you get apples. I was going to be a short person. My mom taught me many strange things, one of which was to never, ever draw attention to myself. I also have red hair. Maybe I should say auburn. Reddish brown with gold highlights. Maybe 1-3% of American women are born with red hair.

 

I spent many nights wishing I could grow taller to blend in. Our bones ossify at about age 21, so I had to accept that I was not going to grow. I also spent many nights wishing I could have perfect vision. Without correction, I was blind as a bat. I refused to wear glasses.  Eventually they made extended wear contact lenses. I found them to be almost like having real vision.

 

By age 14 I had won the hair length argument with my mom. She wanted it short. I was taller than her by then so I won. I grew it down to my bum.  A teenage girl, who is 5’ tall, weighs about 85 lbs dripping wet and has long red hair does draw attention just by virtue of being different. Hey, she gave me the DNA. Of course, I didn’t know people were looking at me because I couldn’t see them anyway.

 

A couple of years ago I had Lasik surgery done. I do not need glasses even for reading. I won’t get taller, but I got half of my childhood wishes. Not a bad average.

Dieting

DIETING

 

My dogs eat kibble. They eat it every day. Every meal they are so excited to get the same cup of dry food that they do a food dance.  Beagles are food sharks.

 

When I eat, I can choose whatever I want. I can eat out, eat in, cook, eat raw veggies and fruit, order pizza delivered, whatever I want. I don’t dance for my meals but generally I enjoy them. I eat to live more than I live to eat. 

 

When I was younger, I was anorexic. I didn’t throw up; I just didn’t eat much. I was very, very skinny and it felt good. I was never treated for it. When my doctor tried to hospitalize me I did what any good anorexic would do. I changed doctors. One day I realized that the only control I had over my life as a child was what went into my mouth, and I recovered. Then I gained some.

 

Luckily it seems I did little damage to my body when I was anorexic.

 

Now I try to follow a diet that is appropriate and healthy. I exercise. I walk 10-20 miles a week. I lift hand weights. I have cut down on salts. I eat small portions. I listen carefully for anorexic thoughts. I have regular medical exams. I try to plan my meals in advance and eat fresh food. I limit my animal fats. 

 

Dieting seems to be an exact science, and we have many options.  We can use the the Atkins Diet, the Palm Beach, the Ornish and hundreds of others.

 

When I realized my dogs had porked up a bit, I cut their food by 10%. Hmm. Maybe I am on to something.

Life with beagles

My home is owned by a 16 year old cat. At least, that is how she sees it. We are allowed to live here as long as we meet her every whim. All whims are subject to change.

Also living here are two beagles. Now beagles are very sweet dogs, great with kids, and more affectionate than any other breed I have met. However, they are not the mental giants of the dog world. In fact, I consider them dumb as bricks, but I love them unconditionally.

My older one, Molly, once turned on my hair dryer when I was in the shower. I prayed she didn't bring it to me. She loves to eat lipstick. She can get on the kitchen table, jump to the counter, and eat whole loaves of bread. The younger one, Baby, is very passive and just cheers Molly on. She likes bread, too. Baby has a problem remembering where she is supposed to go potty. She has decided that since I use the bathroom, she will too. I wash a lot of throw rugs.

Beagles will eat anything. Besides bread and lipstick, they love grapes, olives, Granny Smith apples, ice cream, hand cream, carrots, plastic, pumpkin, socks, peanut butter, peanut shells, cat food, cat turds, and Vaseline. They are now too well behaved to eat shoes.

They also love everyone. Most dogs bark an alert when they see a car or stranger outside. Mine whine and sit, as they do for treats. I have, however, seen Wiz the cat get big hair and growl at people walking up to my door. I was once dogsitting two dogs for a friend and the (declawed) cat beat the crap out of them because she thought they were hurting me.

At night the dogs crawl under the covers and snuggle. The cat sneaks on top of the covers and lies over Baby's head. Baby has too much respect to ask Wiz to move. So do I.

 

My Ear! My Ear!!

A few months before I retired, I found myself squinting with pain whenever someone talked loudly to me during an interview. My ears ached. I finally accepted that I had developed an ear infection secondary to a sinus infection. I walked around with it for a few days, then I ran into a new client who could really project her voice and I was just about in tears. I stopped into the local medical clinic and stated that I had developed an ear infection and would like it treated.

The nurse asked me several questions. She asked me if I felt burning. I said yes, if someone was talking loudly it was quite painful, and would she please whisper? She asked about itching and discharge. I said no, but started looking at her kind of funny. I told her loud noises bothered me, and she gave me the fish eye. We seemed to be having trouble communicating. How complicated can it be to diagnose the symptoms of an ear infection? Her questions got stranger and stranger and my answers seem to elicit confusion from her.

Eventually she handed me a little plastic cup. After a minute of thought, I started howling with laughter. I handed her back the cup and reiterated, EAR infection. Not URINE infection. We had a great laugh! The doctors had a great laugh. All my friends who have heard it have been laughing. Yeah, at my expense!

I almost peed in a cup to diagnose an ear infection.

Why I retired

I was sitting in my temporary office, working the child abuse hotlines, trying to explain to a school principal why she could not make her referral to us anonymously, when I heard The News. There was a new, long anticipated retirement package being offered.

After some quick arithmetic, it dawned on me that this time I actually qualified. I was ecstatic! I did a mental happy dance, added up my life savings in my head, figured out to the tenth of a cent how much I would need to live on per month, wondered if I would have to return to my own office in the meantime, and decided life was very good. I was momentarily stunned by the news, but quickly recovered. I never looked back.

My life from that point became a plan for the Last Day, which would appropriately fall on Halloween. I had five months to work, possibly for the rest of my life.

An excited co-worker asked me if I was going to accept the offer. Having worked for the government for 27 years, I answered immediately and without hesitation. "I don't know. Maybe."