Haunting

Blah.

My thyroid can FTFO.  It quit working right after I had the imp (they promised me that I'd have my energy back by the time he was six months old.  They lied.  I still don't have it back).  It recently started acting out even worse.  So, the doc yanked me off my thyroid pill so they can run a specific test on me in a month.

And now, instead of taking one little dose of levothyroxine to feel halfway human, I'm taking four honkin' big herbal thyroid supplements to feel a third of the way to as good as I was feeling.  And I've only got one more week I can take that before I have to give it up, too.  Just so they can see what my thyroid does when it's been completely unsupported before being given a dose of radioactive iodine for a scan.

Yes, ladies and gents, I've been off the thyroid pill since Monday, and feel like a zombie where motivation, energy, and brainpower are concerned.

Don't count on seeing anything from me until this is resolved. 

It's been a hell month for music, so far.

First Lemmy Kilmister.


Now David Bowie.

Rest in peace, gents.  We'll miss your talents.

I didn't think it possible.

I truly didn't.  There's no way.  No way can a cover of a Rolling Stones song be anywhere near as good as the original.  Especially not "Gimme Shelter."

I...was wrong.

Give it a listen.  It matches, if not betters, the original.

Huh. Tasty.

So, I experimented for supper.  It wasn't bad, but I'm gonna keep playing with the recipe until I get something we really like.

Without further ado:

Sorta Shepherd's Pie

1lb ground beef, or ground beef blended with pork.  Or beef and mutton.
1 can green beans (drained)
1 can corn (drained)
1 can diced tomatoes (not drained)
1/2 onion, chopped
Tater tots (not frozen)
shredded cheese

1. Cook meat with onion in a nice, deep 10 inch cast iron skillet.  Drain if fatty.  Put back in cast iron skillet.
2. Add cans of veggies.  Make sure you taste to make sure there's enough salt.
3. Top with cheese, then tater tots, then more cheese.
4. Bake at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes, or until tots are hot and cheese is browned.

Serve hot.  Probably good with burger condiments, likely good with barbecue sauce.

I'm gonna play with the filling (maybe leave out the tomatoes and use brown gravy in the meat and other veggies) but this was good as it was.  Warm and comforting on a damn cold night.

I'll post the finalized recipe when I figure out what we like best.  

crossing fingers, here...

Last week, I had an appointment with the doctor, where she ordered a full workup on my blood to see if she could figure out why I've been unable to keep my weight in a "healthy" range,* and why I've been so constantly fatigued, with energy draining within about an hour or so of doing anything.  Oh, and always being cold, no matter how many layers I'm wearing. 

Then there's the increasing brain fog that hasn't helped at all with the writing process.

The blood workup came back the very next day, with most things normal, but my thyroid levels very low, despite a 50mcg dose of levothyroxine every day, for the past five and a half years.  I'm assuming, since I've had it tested yearly, that that means my thyroid has dropped the ball even worse than it had, where function is concerned, because the doc hadn't been concerned.

However, she did diagnose another problem in the office, and wanted to get an ultrasound done on my thyroid before she does anything else.

I'm crossing my fingers that there's nothing really bad wrong.  I'm also crossing my fingers that my doctor increases my dosage until I feel as normal as I did before I got pregnant with the imp (where my problems actually started). 

 The end result I'm hoping for is an ability to eat more than starvation levels to get into a healthy range of weight, energy to keep up with housework and maybe do a little bit more with the kids, a longer time period than half an hour of having the capability to do things without having to stop, not being constantly freezing, less brain fog, and more mental energy to help clear out the apathy towards almost everything.**

*I don't think necessarily that the WHO's figures on what constitutes "overweight" and "obese" are really accurate.  They seem to not take into account anything other than a specific build type...which is NOT what I've inherited.  However.  I fully acknowledge that I AM overweight, and cannot lose weight without eating about the same amount of calories as your typical concentration camp victim: less than 1000 calories per day.

**I know damn well I'm not depressed.  BT;DT, I know what it feels like, am prone to chronic depression, and this ain't it. 

Looking back...

This year has been...different.  There've been some major changes, and there's been a lot of issues. 

January: pneumonia.  I missed the first week of classes because of this monster.  Didn't have office hours the second week, either. 

February: stomach flu for a week, acquired food allergy to wheat, discovered chest colds are a lot nastier when you've had pneumonia.  By the end of February, I'd lost something like thirty or thirty-five pounds, and drastically curtailed my diet. 

There are, honestly, a lot of foods I miss: real biscuits (the gluten-free kind are NOT biscuits), crispy thin crust pizza, Club crackers, pie, and Christmas cookies.  That said, I don't miss them that much, since I've always been a meat and potatoes type person.

March: UTI.  Weight started to come back.

May: UTI.  Fifteen pounds regained (WTF???  I don't eat a whole lot, and have usually been good at maintaining weight lost).

June: yet another UTI. 

July: Odysseus finished his second degree and got a job, all in the same week.  He's loving that job, by the way--I haven't seen him so happy with work since he sold a computer shop he owned and ran in '03. 

Also, by this point, I'd regained twenty-five pounds.  I've managed to pry off five, but it takes eating less than a thousand calories per day, and I literally cannot eat that little and do housework on a regular basis.

August: School started for the kids, then for me.  I've had to start driving on a daily basis.  I don't like it, but I am competent at it. 

October: the pixie caused me a panic attack, and routine changed.  For her.  Because she now has to wait in the car with her seatbelt fastened while I get the imp from his teacher at the pickup point.

November: the onset of new and nasty viruses thoughtfully brought home and shared by the kids. 

Yeah, 2015 has kind of sucked.  Yeah, there were good points, but they've been offset by multiple health issues.  I am glad that, for the most part, the year is over.

We're okay.

Christmas passed.  It went about as well as it could, with my family and my mom and sister being sick. 

After Christmas, things got a little hairy.  It started to rain.  And rain.  And rain.  And flood.  I think I read that we got something like between eight and ten inches in 72 hrs. 

Roads started closing.  I-44 is closed in areas it wasn't during the last big flood.  Out east of Carthage, 96 hwy (Old Rte 66) runs next to a spillover pond, a medium sized park, and over Spring River.  Sunday, there was no park, and no separation between the river and Kellogg "Lake." 

There have been water rescues galore, including a crew of a freight train that was washed off the tracks. 

And there have been water rescues of people who moved the barricade so that they could drive through.  Into water.  And then they get washed away.

That last group...I have issues with prioritizing those rescues.  The people disregarding "road closed" signs and barricades are making a choice.*  I think they need to either be left to the consequences, or be charged out the nose for the rescue.  I don't like leaving the idiocy to continue on its way without any repercussions. 

We didn't have to do anything special to avoid flooding.  We didn't have to evacuate, didn't have to make any changes to our routine, didn't have to worry about utilities going out (some areas lost electricity, others lost water), or being wonky (the south end of Joplin had issues with the sewer and water treatment plant being overwhelmed, and people were asked to not wash dishes or clothes...or flush). 

When we bought, we were careful to stay OUT of the flood plains. 

One of my aunts had to evacuate with all of her critters (chickens and dogs and cats) and her husband, and lost one or two of her chickens.  And maybe her beehive.  She didn't take up any state resources--she called one of my other aunts to come help her get out. 

From what I've read, we crested at nearly twenty feet above flood stage throughout most of the area sometime yesterday, when the rain finally switched over to snow, thankfully without more than a few minutes of freezing rain/sleet added into the mix.

*People who build in flood plains are also making a choice...however, for the most part, most people who were flooded out this time were not in areas that were flooded out the last time that it did this, in October of '93.  This time, the water was just a bit higher in places.

Have a blessed Christmas

Dan Zimmerman. Intellectual property thief. Dead Hooker Magazine

Saw something absolutely despicable posted on FB by Tam's roomie (I think).  I've quoted it in full below: 

Dan Zimmerman, widely held to be a longtime intellectual property thief and, I am given to understand, founder of _Dead Hooker Magazine_, has stolen Tamara Keel's "Fun Show Song" and posted the lovely video made as a Christmas present for Tam by Ambulance Driver and Squeaky and posted it over at TTAG, the other sink of iniquity and inequity with which he is associated, utterly without attribution to anyone but himself.

Other than polite reminders (already issued) and the distant possibility of lawyering up -- Tam's a writer and her stock in trade is the unique groupings of words she creates -- there's not a whole lot that can be done.

But there is one thing. Cato famously ended every speech he made in the Roman Senate with "Carthage must be destroyed," even if all he was talking about was proclaiming Junior Vestal Day. The phrase I'd like you to remember and to post all over the Internet is "Dan Zimmerman. Intellectual property thief. Dead Hooker Magazine." And good morning, search engines!

I cannot fully imagine the disgust and outrage Tam's dealing with right now.  Yes, I'm a writer, too, and a teacher of writing, but I've never been plagiarized.  It's bad enough when I find it in my students' writing; it has to be far worse when it's your own words and ideas stolen.  I'd imagine it's a worse violation than theft, but not as bad as being raped.

Little bit of a new spin on things...

Like a friend asked on FB when they linked this story: Why in the hell is this not reported in the mainstream media?

And why do they expect us to believe that the multiple bulk cell phone purchases were legitimate?

Difficult conversations

So, my kids are getting old enough to start really listening to song lyrics, and thinking about them.  Thinking about them in surprisingly complex ways for as young as they are.

One of the albums I have on a jump drive in the Subaru is Flogging Molly's Drunken Lullabies.  The title track, in particular, recently sparked a conversation.



The line "Has the shepherd led his lambs astray/to the bigot and the gun?" really distressed both kids.

"Mama...why did...why would...how could a preacher tell the people in the church to do bad things?"

And thus, I found myself giving an abbreviated, age-appropriate lecture over the Troubles in Northern Ireland to my seven year old son and five year old daughter last Friday, on the way home from school.

My kids have no chance of being normal.  And that's a good thing.

Shit.

Dozens of cell phones--pre-paid, all of them--bought by a few individuals in Lebanon, Columbia, Jefferson City, and Macon, Missouri. 

There's no telling where shit's gonna go down, but five dozen phones bought in Columbia can set off how many IEDs?  Four dozen in Lebanon?  No, the part of Missouri where I live doesn't really have a whole lot of target value, but there's Ft. Wood, Jefferson City itself, St. Louis, KC, Whiteman AF Base, Columbia...

Watch for new construction on Missouri roads (especially in KC and St. Louis, where it never stops), and bits of junk on the side of the road, and maybe in the middles of intersections.  This is not looking good. 

On the bright side, should the likely perps set bombs in the wrong neighborhoods, we could very well see those most prone to violence wreaking bloody revenge, and all the rest of us would have to do was make sure we'd laid in enough popcorn.  

Yeah, I know, I disappeared.

It's been a rough semester, getting into the swing of things.  With Odysseus's new job,* I've had to pick up a whole lot more that I didn't used to have to do.

So, this past semester, I've been running the kids in to school, and either heading in myself on Monday/Wednesday/Friday, or heading back home to clean without small monsters underfoot (Tuesday) or to run errands without small monsters in tow...though I still refuse to go to Walmart--even when it's not busy, the people in the parking lot have a fine disregard for their cars and others, as well as their own safety. 

Everything put together ate up not only my blogging time, but my writing time, too.  I haven't done more than scribble in my draft books for a couple of months.** 

(Why, yes, I'm hearing voices.  No worries--it's just the characters in the book/stories I'm working on, agitating for me to get to writing again ASAP.)

Add in with that the cats' stupid-crazy behavior--Shadow's funny jumping bug was only one incident; remind me later, and I'll tell y'all about Cricket eating a chili pepper that I'd left out to dehydrate naturally--and family obligations, and grading obligations, and other tripping hazards that life left out like my kids leave toys laying around...

(One of my cousins' wife needs prayers--she had a double bypass, and surgery took twice as long and was more complicated than it should have been, because she has MD, and two of the initial attempts at grafting tissue didn't take)

...and you have a five month period where I've been lucky to tread water. 

Thank God for auto-draft billing on the utilities.

There's also the factor that I've been outright avoiding the news, especially politics.  I'm...not apathetic, but definitely believing less and less that I actually have a voice that counts and is heard.  Not that that keeps me from voting, just from writing about the stupidity that we witness every day.  There really is only so much of that I can take.

I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving, and that I can get my feet under me after the crazy part of break is over.


*He was hired before the end of finals week of the summer semester, about three days before official graduation.

**I have more time--and stamina--to read others' work than I do to write my own.  I think I may be developing arthritis in the joint where my index finger meets my palm, and it's worse in my dominant hand...and acts up worse when the weather is typical SW MO weather (i.e., schizophrenic and bipolar) than when it's just cold and damp.  And no, I don't need to be paid to read stuff and offer feedback when I don't have to turn in a grade for it.  

Silly cat tricks

So, last week, we had one of those nasty looking translucent brown crickets come in.  Shadow found it, just inside the back door of the kitchen (between the utility room and the kitchen), and was playing with it.  She had her head cocked all the way to one side, the cricket on the floor between her front paws.  Eyes dilated to the point where all you saw was black, with a thin rim of amber gold.  And then, she gently poked the cricket in the butt, just to see it jump.  She was very, very careful not to harm the funny jumping bug. 

Then Cricket, the cat, got scared half to death of something in the living room, tore through the kitchen, and ran over Shadow...squishing her funny jumping bug in the process. 

Shadow's head crooked the other way, her pupils shrank, her ears laid back...and she went after Cricket.  She chased her all through the house, running on her hind feet only while she beat the thunder out of Cricket with her front paws.  I have never, in my life, seen a cat chase and beat another cat like that: running only on the hind paws while giving alternate slaps around the head and ears with the front paws.  Slow, hard slaps that actually knocked Cricket half off her feet a couple of times.

All over a nasty, wet-looking brown cricket that Shadow thought the most marvelous funny jumping bug she'd ever found to play with.

stuck in my head all day

I hadn't even thought of this song for years...and then, boom.

I can't say I'm surprised.

Reports I've heard out of France put the toll at between 120-160 dead; some reports say the perps are also dead, others aren't sure.

I am...unsurprised, to say the least.  I am also, to some extent, unsympathetic.

The people of France, like us, choose their "rulers" in elections.  Their "ruling class" chose to permit the waves of invaders inside their borders, apparently without even bothering to check baggage.  That, in turn, both permitted and damn near encouraged the recent events.

I cannot feel sorry for people who invited in and welcomed those who seek wage war, with or without a nation* backing them up.

Does that mean that I'm going to be unsympathetic to our own people if it happens here?

In a word?  Yes.

To an extent.  However, I don't think they'll find Americans as easy of targets, unless they deliberately hit gun-free zones (which they likely would).  However, after what's happened in Paris, I strongly doubt otherwise law-abiding carriers will leave their means of self-defense behind.

Other than that...again, the American people have permitted gleefully placed in charge those who would welcome in our enemies with open arms (and perhaps the hope that those enemies will take out a few of those who vote against the socialist/fascist/progressive agenda, and remove enough "no" votes to change the political landscape).

So, yeah.  I'm not feeling a whole lot of sympathy.

I am not Charlie Hedbo.  I am not a Parisian.  I am not a victim.

And I don't feel too sorry for those who choose to be a victim in some weird version of Sister Bertha virtue signalling.  

*If world governments bothered asking the radicals, they'd find that the radicals see "islam" as their nation, rather than any particular acknowledged nation state.

Exhaustion.

I has it.

No, not from juggling schedules, nor from trying to keep up with grading (though that's there), nor yet from health issues (migraine, anyone?  I'll share). 

I am exhausted by humanity.  Lately, I've seen so many examples of self-absorption that I've begun to assume the worst of people, moreso than I usually do.  I am so very much looking forward to my Christmas Break, this year...

Last week, I went from my classroom to the ladies' room across the library from my classroom.  I noted a young woman of a specific type pull out what looked like a brand new iPhone, and make a call.  As I was coming back, she was still there, leaning against the outer wall of the glassed-in quiet room, complaining about her commodities basket: whoever had compiled it hadn't given her any mac 'n' cheese, no name brand anything, and had had the sheer, unmitigated gall to include a bag of flour and a bag of sugar.

How dare they.  No name brands, and expecting her to cook.

Now, contrast this with another young person of the same specific demographic.  One of my students, in fact--they asked for an extension on paper 5 (which I'm happy to grant) because they were breaking under the pressure of being a full time college student and working two jobs.  Two, not one.  This student uses an older Android phone, and a two year old Acer laptop, much like the one my husband has.  Student is working two jobs because their family has had to cut funding because of a pregnant sibling.  Student hasn't asked for help, hasn't applied for food stamps, just quietly went and got another job.

And when that student broke down in tears this morning, I could not help contrasting them with Ms. NameBrandsOnlyPlease. 

Especially since my student broke down in that study room, and nobody else paid a bit of attention. 

The two other students (not mine, thankfully) were too busy discussing one of the Kardashians.*

*I will admit that I have no idea which one or why--I tuned out as soon as I heard the name.

Huh. Weird.

Did you know that bacon contains a really high amount of choline?  I didn't.  I did, however, notice the results: my mind has been clearer today than it is when I take my thyroid pill and thyroid support supplements at breakfast and lunch.

I made fried potatoes for supper, last night, using bacon, bacon grease, hash browns, onions, and green bell peppers.  A lot of bacon.  And I kept nipping into the meat candy I'd cooked to gather the bacon grease into a jar in the fridge to cook with. 

So, I got about two or three servings of bacon.  Which contains about 135 mg of choline per serving--more than you find in anything but liver (which I categorically refuse to eat from any animal, whether beef [300+ mg] or chicken [200+ mg]). 

What does choline do?  It supports brain function. 

I have had little to no brain fog today. 

I have a bottle of choline supplement on the way.

I'll also still be eating more meat candy.  Because bacon.

Ugh...I really need my brain to function.

I don't remember a whole lot of Monday afternoon.  And I'm missing big chunks of time from yesterday.

My daughter nearly caused me a panic attack.  It took everything I had to fight it off until Odysseus got home and could take over, and I could do something to derail it.  Which is why I don't remember Monday. 

I took the pixie with me to pick up the imp.  We were a bit later than normal, and she was cranky because she'd refused to go to sleep until around a quarter after two (we leave no later than 2:45, most days, and she'd stretched it until 2:50).  I parked on the opposite side of the parking lot from usual, and she barely paid attention.  We snagged her brother as he was released by his teacher, and I took them to the car.  I let go of the pixie's hand so she could get in the car, and she started to run to where we usually park...across the parking lot.  I screamed at her, and she froze--thank God; there was some fucking oblivious cunt actually speeding in the parking lot (probably doing a solid thirty mph while twisted around yelling at the kids in the back of the minivan/giant SUV), and would have creamed the pixie if she hadn't stopped. 

I'm prone to panic attacks.  Used to have them all the time.  My biggest triggers were my dad or anything to do with him (he's dead, so that trigger's gone), CPS/Family Services, cops, and feeling helpless. 

The feeling helpless thing?  Yeah, that's still a trigger.  A big one.  And there was literally nothing I could do, as the pixie ran past the rear bumper, except scream at her to stop.  I felt helpless; I was helpless. 

Thanks be to God that I remembered all the old tricks for postponing the panic attack until I had time and space and it was safe to deal with (having one while driving?  the opposite of safe): shutting down mentally and emotionally and functioning on autopilot, chugging coffee, and listening to music while ignoring the TV (something else that can trigger a panic attack, if there's already one lurking and waiting to happen). 

And I've since learned how to shut one down entirely: have a double or triple shot of something very strong.  Which I did, once I'd eaten supper. 

But, all of this still leaves me dealing with the aftermath: exhaustion, occasional fugue states when I don't have something I have to focus on (the lost time yesterday), an inability to concentrate for longer than about fifteen minutes, and sore muscles and joints. 

My brain has started moving back to normal function, and I've slept off most of the exhaustion; however, the muscle soreness will probably take a few more days.  Which is, almost by necessity, going to postpone my grading, since it hit me worst in my forearms, shoulders, and legs, this time--I can't hold a pencil for long without my forearm screaming at me, and my fingers losing strength. 

Fun stuff! 

And why I didn't get my planned blog post done Monday.  Or yesterday.  Or today.  I literally cannot remember what I was going to write about.  Can't even remember the subject.