30 Days and Counting

Well, that was a long break.  Longest I've taken in quite a while.  It's been hard, when the only thing I can really think to blog about is my dad.

My dad, who is still on a ventilator, and whose magical "30 days in ICU" coverage is about to expire.

Just like that, the financial security he's worked so hard for is gone.  His wife is talking about selling the house, except they've (mostly he's) hoarded so much stuff that it's not likely the place could be made sellable. Between cats, cigarettes, and junk, I can imagine just how bad it is.  Plus, it's not a great area.  Their mortgage is paid off, but refinancing won't touch this--at 14 days, they were already over 200,000 dollars in medical bills.  I don't say "medical costs" because we all know there's a big difference between what that shit COSTS and how much they BILL.

Medically, he's not improving as much as I wish he would.  They've still got him zonked out of his gourd with Versed, and still have him tied to the bed to keep him from tearing things out. Apparently, he keeps squirming down to the end of the bed, which has caused a large friction sore on his leg where he keeps pressing it against the railing.

What a mess.

I haven't told anyone in the family, and that's by request.  I'm not happy about it, and yet I can totally understand.  The fear that certain relatives would descend upon his wife and take what they can while he's incapacitated is not unreasonable.  Fact is, I'm the only child of his he wanted informed.  There's a reason for that.  I'm torn, I admit--part of me wants very much to tell people so they'll have their chance to make peace, if that's the way they want to go.

Except they can't--he's drugged to insensibility and on a ventilator.  There's no communicating anything, no making peace.

I'll find out in the next few days what happens next.  After the 30 days in ICU expires, he's got coverage for 45 days in a long-term care facility.  The nearest Veteran's place is 2 hours from his home.  What a total cock-up.

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 Spent Christmas day and the day after in Sturbridge, Massachusetts.  Had Christmas dinner at the Publick House, then hit Higgins Armory Museum the next day.  Today is Higgins' last day ever--they close their doors for good tonight.  That is a tragedy, it's devastating.  If you never got there, you missed something amazing and magical.  There's never been another Higgins-type place in the States, and there likely never will be.  Thankfully, we got there early--the crowd was amazing, and the power went out in Worcester ten minutes after we left.  Imagine if we'd shown up late and had the power go out!  That would have broken our boy's heart.

I nearly cried in the gift shop.  Higgiins wasn't just a museum, it was an amazing mix of classroom and training, history and play, and the people who've worked there have really put themselves into it fully, and they're hurting.  I'm hurting for them.  And I'm hurting for the grandkids I don't even have yet who won't ever get the chance.

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In addition to Higgins, we spent a little time in the Old Burying Ground in Sturbridge.  Would have spent more time, but it was 20 miserable degrees.  Who knew it got so cold in Massachusetts?  My first time there in the winter.  Now I know why I've stayed away.  I actually managed to hit my stride and warm up while photographing, but hubby wound up frozen to the core and hiding out in the car with the heater blasting.  I don't blame him--usually it's me, but when outdoors, I get that cold, then BURN of the extremities (Reynaud's, I believe it's called), which actually serves me pretty well in some situations.

On our way home, we hit two more cemeteries--East Norwalk and Mill Hill, though Mill Hill was a mistake--we'd meant to hit Pine Island, but missed.  Both cemeteries were for genealogy/family history purposes, as my mom's ancestors were original settlers in Norwalk.  Got a lot of good pictures, and even more bad ones.  Sad we missed Pine Island, but it turns out we're related to half the folks in Mill Hill, too.  Stopped in Philly on the way home for Pat's King of Steaks (our boy finally had one, after years of eating hot dogs there, and he loved it!), then wound up in traffic hell on the 95--all southbound lanes closed, they detoured us at a snail's pace in a huge loop out and around the accident.  Had to stop in DC for hubby to hit his office for something, then home.  Didn't get home until after midnight.

Tired.

Here are some graveyard and road pics:

I figured her out, but it took some work!

NYC

Sturbridge Old Burying Ground

Frigid beach near Norwalk

Pretty nice for a rest stop parking lot near Hackensack.

And that's about it, I guess.  Well, except for a HUGE thumbs up for the folks in Utah who've managed to get married this past week!  Yes, the governor and his skeezy new AG will drop millions into fighting "gay marriage," but they are totally on the WRONG side of history here. Congratulations to my friends who've been married, and to my friends who've performed the marriages.  You're blazing new trails my friends.  Love you.

It's Not Just Diabetes that Has Me Down

So, I'm feeling sad today.  Was so hoping to get our boy back to Higgins Armory again before it's gone forever.  It closes up shop in December, and I don't know if we're going to have the money. In the last two months, things have gone from hopeful to disastrous on the cash front, and right now we're doing the "calls to stave them off" shuffle until we can catch up.

Higgins Armory--have you never been?   If not, you want to get there while you still can--come end of the year, it's the end of a treasure.  An incredible adventure for kids and adults.  If you're into history, knights, armor, Danes, jousting, European and Asian military, weaponry, etc., Higgins is THE place in North America.

For just a little while longer.

Higgins Armory Museum in Worcester (that's WOOSTAH), Massachusetts

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Came across an oddity today, directed by my older sister.  She's researching Supreme Court Justices, and has hit a snag with Justice Arthur J. Goldberg.  See, some biographies have him married to a Dorothy Kurgans, while others Wanda Tompkins, and some?  Some have him married to both.  Apparently at the same time.

Arthur J. Goldberg-portrait in the U.S. Department of Labor "Hall of Secretaries."  Artist Gardner Cox

Now, seeing as Justice Goldberg (later Ambassador Goldberg) wasn't a secret Reformed Latter-day Saint, and likely wasn't a closet polygamist in the public eye, I'm going to run with one of three theories:

One, his marriage to Wanda Tompkins was short, embarrassing, and has been quietly dropped from the historical record. 

Two, someone at some point at Wikipedia or some like place made a mistake.  They made a mistake, threw the name Wanda Tompkins in there, and the rest is referential history.  You know, nobody does research anymore, they just quote someone else? Who quoted someone else?

Three?  That "art student" Wanda Tompkins converted to Judaism to marry Justice Goldberg, and when she did, she changed her name to Dorothy Kurgans.  You know, the ARTIST Dorothy Kurgans.  I'm personally acquainted with folks who've done that very thing--converted to Judaism and changed their names to more "traditionally Jewish" monikers.  

There's got to be some way to find out.  To borrow from Duchovny, the truth is out there.  If you know, if you can shed some light, drop me a line.  My curiosity is piqued.

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Caught some crappy story today about Kate Middleton and breastfeeding.  Specifically about how her fashion purchases of late indicate she's breastfeeding.  From some classy news source whose name escapes me.  Was it  . . . Totally Vapid News-ish?  No, no.  Perhaps Holy Cow, What Trivial Garbage?  Or maybe . . . Stylelist?  

Ah, yeah, that was it.  Whew!

Anyway, I don't normally read that sort of thing, but it came across my feed and, being something of a "lactivist," I was drawn in.

Drawn in, only to be pissed off.

It's a common misconception that women are advised to breastfeed for six months.  A common misunderstanding, really.  See, it's "exclusively for the first six months, then with solid foods for at least the first year, preferably longer."  The World Health Organization is even more expansive, calling for a minimum of two years (six months exclusive, then to at least two years with solids).  Not breastfeeding?  Sad and inferior, nutrition-wise, in modern, industrialized countries with adequate healthcare and access to clean water.  Sad, inferior, linked to numerous ailments and all-around increase in risk for various diseases and disorders, costing our governments a fortune, but usually not deadly.  Usually good enough.  But in third world countries?

A death sentence.  No, that's not an exaggeration.  Millions of infants die every year because they aren't breastfed.  Simple as that.  So when I see a story, even in some dippy rag like Stylelist, talking about a famous woman who is widely respected and likely choosing to breastfeed?

That's good.  That's good news.  And it's being shared in a format/venue likely to attract a crowd not usually given to deep thoughts about infant nutrition.

Sadly, Stylelist got it wrong, stating that breastfeeding is "recommended for the first six months of the baby's life."  No mention of that first six months being exclusive nursing, to be followed up by nursing PLUS solids for at least the first year.  And there you go--crappy information sprayed at women who will take it as gospel because, gosh, they read it on a star-stalking site.

A star-stalking site that goes on to get in a dig about nursing in public.  A dig that will, no doubt. discourage more than one woman from breastfeeding her child.

I feel I need to repost this.  It's important.

And before anyone throws a tizzy, remember this--I'm not saying that women who don't nurse are bad mothers or inferior parents--I'm saying that they're providing their child inferior nutrition known to contribute to a variety of physical ailments.  That's not a judgement call, that's science. All parents make bad calls or lesser choices--ALL of us.  No such thing as perfect out there.  However, I see zero reason to whitewash the truth or soften the science to spare feelings.  I don't see anyone nodding indulgently and saying, "Oh, it's okay, it's just as good" to moms who smoke, or who drink during pregnancy.  Don't say it's not the same, don't say it's a poor comparison--not breastfeeding is associated with everything from increased risk of diabetes to dental caries, cancers (in mother and baby) to GERD.  Look up Necrotizing Enterocolitis some time--a cruel killer of pre-term babies, and almost unheard of in exclusively breastmilk fed preemies.  Formula fed babies of non-smoking mothers are more likely to suffer chronic ear infections, respiratory infections, urinary tract infections, and other ailments than the breastfed babies of smoking mothers.  Not because smoking is okay, but because breastmilk is just that awesome.  Obviously, the best route is not smoking AND nursing.

Anyway, point is this--a good mom might wind up not nursing, and a not-so-good mom might breastfeed.  It's not the determining factor.  But to hassle a woman for nursing in public while nodding and smiling at someone putting a bottle in a baby's mouth?  It utterly screwed up from every angle.  How about we just keep our mouths shut when we see a mom feeding her baby in public, REGARDLESS OF HOW SHE'S DOING IT?  A smile, a nod, and then move the hell on.
Nothing to see here, folks.

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Blood sugar's been out-of-whack these past couple of weeks.  Actually clocked 220 the other day, which, for me, is really high.  REALLY high, though not a shock, considering what I'd had to eat.  My big concern, though, is the sudden spikes upon waking.  Normally, I'm below 100 when I wake up, but the past couple of weeks I've been at 110-140.  Doubly concerning because, when I go to bed, I'm around 103.  I know about the "Dawn Phenomenon" and the "Somogyi effect," but it's not normally a problem for me.  My fasting blood sugar isn't ALWAYS high--I came in at 98 yesterday before napping.  My post-dinner reading last night was 141, but that was after a pasta dinner with a lot of veggies, so I'm not surprised by that.  I don't like to be surprised by blood sugar.  141 after pasta isn't surprising.  138 after six hours of sleep?  That's a surprise.

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And that's about all.  I was going to post a horrible house picture, but I found this, instead:

Now, this photo was voted absolute WORST/UGLIEST in an online contest comparing awful decor.  But I think it's BRILLIANT!  I mean, folks filming Harry Potter would have paid someone thousands to come up with exactly this!  It's amazing!  No, I wouldn't want to live there, but I'll bet a character from Dickens, Order of the Phoenix, or The Golden Compass would be right at home! How can you not love it?

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Oh, yeah--new reviews up, if you're looking for a new hand mixer, curious about Burt's Bees Foot Cream, or in the market for some Honestly good shampoo, have a look! 

Doing Harm and the Loss of a Treasure

Came across a troll on Facebook yesterday.  Guy is involved in roller derby in California, uses a fake Facebook moniker so he can abuse with impunity.  You know the kind, the smug, self-satisfied, condescending insulter who pretends to an intimacy and knowledge of others in order to make mean little judgement calls? Yes, silly me, I engaged . . . for a while.  I didn't "win" because you don't win with them.  The best you can do is embarrass them to a draw.  That, I managed.

I was thinking last night about all the things my boy has said he wants to do and see in his life.  My favorite, I think?  When he announced, at the age of five, that he had a friend who lived on Pluto.  Another little boy, much like him.  He told us that, when he grew up, he was going to be an astronaut so he could fly to Pluto and finally meet his friend.  When asked what he'd do when he met his friend, he said he would "walk right up to him, shake his hand, and say, 'Hey, friend!'"

I do love my boy.

Post came across my wall yesterday, some guy I knew in junior high and high school.  Knew and, to be absolutely blunt, didn't much like.  He wasn't a very nice guy.  He palled around with the bully who loosened my front teeth in 7th grade--girl had been on me for months, I'd been ditching classes to avoid her.  She caught me on my way out of class, and I never saw her--she punched me right in the mouth.  It was a watershed moment for me, an epiphany of sorts.  I smiled, nodded, then, when her back was turned, went NUTS on her.  Like 30+ stitches down the back of her head, left her crying on the ground NUTS.  Thankfully, Vice Principal Hawkes had seen the whole thing from a distance, so I took a talking to, while she took an expulsion.  I hope she remembered me every time she went to make someone else's life hell.  I hope it made her think twice, made her hesitate.

And yeah, I hope that, even today, when she runs a finger along that scar she sees my crying, wild face.  Regrets?

None.

Sorry--didn't mean to go off on that tangent.  Anyway, the post on my wall.  Here, let me grab the meme:

He finished the post with some bit to the effect of "wish I hadn't taken any crap in high school."  It was all I could do to leap at him, remind him that, all through junior high, high school (and beyond) he taunted me with crappy nicknames based upon my Italian last name.  Nicknames like "Pollution" and "Pollutti."  Even after high school, even YEARS later, when he saw me, he'd say, "Hey, POLLUTTI!"  Maybe he thought he was being funny.  Maybe he thought those were "affectionate" nicknames.  Instead of directly smacking him on Facebook, I said, "When I was in junior high and high school, there were kids who used to call me things like 'Pollution' and 'Polluti.'  Maybe they thought it was funny or that it didn't hurt, but it did.  Wish I'd stood up for myself, too."  He didn't respond, but he didn't unfriend me, either, so maybe he's chewing on it.

A good friend messaged me this morning, she'd dreamt that I was complimenting her on her smooth, hairless chin.  We spent a few minutes talking about the never-ending plucking that goes into not becoming Gimli.  I was reminded of a sad, funny thing that my boy did when he was just small--maybe four or five.  He was siting on his Grandma's (my Mom's) lap, petting her chin.  He looked up at her, so earnest, and said, "Grandma, you have the most beautiful beard!  I just love it!"

I expected my Mom to go off, to be hurt, to be angry (because that's how she so often is), but she didn't.  In fact, she was great.  She kissed his head and said, "Why, thank you, Sweetheart."  I hope she wasn't embarrassed.  I wouldn't be--I'd laugh.  Yes, I pluck like crazy because I hate it, but if a grandchild told me it was beautiful?  Well, I'd laugh and hug.  Because there's no malice there, it was just love.

Just came to the realization that a particular bill hasn't been hitting--for months.  It's not a big bill, only seven bucks and change a month,  and it's not a credit-type bill, but rather a subscription.  But I'm still getting the publication.  So here's the funny/scary dilemma.  Yes, I tell them, but I wait to tell them until a week from tomorrow, when we have more than six bucks in the checking account. The fear?  That they'll catch wise BEFORE then and send us bouncing all over the place.

Goodness.

Just got some really sad news.  Higgins Armory Museum in Worcester (say Wooster), Massachusetts, a long-time favorite of ours (and our boy's) is closing its doors at the end of this year.  Oh, I can't even describe how sad that makes me.  It is THE most amazing, incredible place.  It captures imaginations, kids and adults alike.  The collection is breathtaking, the layout beautiful, and the educational offerings in the form of lectures, classes, and presentations?  First class.  It was there our boy, then nine years old and completely taken with things medieval, was allowed to, after a presentation, wield a centuries old sword.  No, he wasn't supposed to, but the museum staffer offered, and our boy was enthused beyond description.

They say some art museum is going to take the pieces, but I question just how much space and attention they're going to give armor and weapons in an art museum.  My heart is broken.

Here's Higgins from the outside:

And here's a small slice of Higgins from the inside:

And that is a SMALL slice--Higgins is multi-storied and painstakingly, lovingly arranged for maximum enjoyment.  Spectacular classes (like swordplay, viking training, story hours, and so many more!), lectures, presentations, and offerings, including overnight birthday parties and the like.  This place is an oasis of incredible, and it breaks my heart that my future grandkids aren't going to get a shot because there's no endowment.  No rich corporation or family cares enough to support it.

They shut down December 31st, 2013.  If you have ANY way of getting there before then, I strongly recommend it.  It's a once-in-a-lifetime sort of place.


Now, in honor of my friend, I'm going to post some GOOD paneling!  Paneling I like very much!

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