It's the little things that piss me off

Learning to adjust
I started some classes last week for newly diagnosed diabetics. I've been to two of five; one more this coming week, and two the week after. I've learned how to use the finger-sticker and now check my sugars twice daily, although I'm still kind of vague on the numbers and what I'm supposed to do. I've been placed on a 1900 calorie diet. So I'm hungry (I used to eat a LOT, apparently a symptom of diabetes), even though I'm pretty sure I'm exceeding my allotted intake. All the same, it's been five days, and I've lost five pounds already. I had also stepped up my activity; mostly lightish weights -- I got these Powerblock dumbells for Christmas, adjustable 5-50 pounds each -- but also I've been using Indian clubs and occasionally there's that Walk Away The Pounds video. I see a specialist in a couple of weeks, the day of the last class, as it worked out. I'm hoping I can reduce my medications, and maybe eventually stop them completely.

My outlook fluctuates almost hourly, but at this moment, I'm feeling positive. I'll stop now, before it changes.

I guess it's a married people thing
What's up with this? She asks me to replace a headlight in her car. She doesn't know how. Yet she has to stand over me as I do, to make sure I do it right.

Falling apart, I guess
I went to the doctor the other day. My annual please renew my meds visits. I had run out, and really needed the Nexium because I reflux heavily. I also take a statin because I have a lipid profile that would kill a rhino. He renewed my meds, plus sent me home with some other scrips and referrals that I ignored, as always. He's decided that this cough I always have is asthma*. He also sent along a finger stick blood sugar checker. Whatever. Today, I came home to find a voice message from the doctor, please call us. Lipids are higher than ever, and he's putting me on a different, presumably stronger statin, and admonished me to take 3 fish oil capsules dailey, plus something about ground flax seed. Also he's called in orders for metformin and something else; apparently I'm diabetic. Shit. I want to ask, what next? only I'm afraid I'll find out.

When did all this happen?

*I can't hear the word asthma without think of Ralph from Lord of the Flies, who called it ass-mar. "Sucks to your ass-mar!"

Current Mood: stunned

Yes, I really did say this
I was at work today, and I got handed an approval for some days off in late March/early April. Spring break for the kids, I guess it is. I don't remember requesting those days, but it is my handwriting. WE've made arrangements for the kids to stay with my parents that week, so I don't need those days off. Who knew it would be such a struggle to not take a week off.

I have witnesses that I said, "I don't want to waste 40 hours of PTO on a vacation."

Sometimes, you just gotta shake the sillies out
I had a contradance gig tonight. Actually, I'd forgotten; well, the whole band had forgotten, but for some readson, the guitar player happened to look at the dance group's web site, and sent us all a reminder. We got there, and the dance had been bumped from the usual room to a much smaller room. So we played without amplification (except for Fred's keyboard). Phil and I had straps in our cases, so we stood up to play, letting us stand close to the dancers. This led to us moving in and out of the figures as we played, plus at one point, I was laying flat on my back and playing. Too much fun. I love to cut up, especially when playing music.

Now I'm home, sipping limoncello.

The Glorious Ninth! Yee Haw!
So yesterday, I decided I wanted to play some banjo. I haven't picked one up in over a year, because I was working on another project which seems to have fizzled. I tried three before I found the one I wanted. But I was playing this one, in the double C tuning I tend to favor, just noodling, and I heard the first phrase of Beethoven's Ode To Joy. Now it's a simple melody, and it only took a few minutes to bang out a hilljack version of this excerpt of the Ninth Symphony.

And, you know, I think it has enough beats to contra dance to.

flag retirement
I got to see a flag retirement this evening, which was something I'd never seen before. This part of a Scout meeting. First, I had to coach The Boy and a few other cub scouts through a flag ceremony. I'm not sure how I got volunteered for that. Maybe because I've been in the military. Yeah, but I still never have done a flag ceremony. So, with cheat sheet in hand, I signalled some second-grade boys through one. Then we went outdoors to a retire a flag that was faded and frayed. Flag retirement involves a few words, then burning it completely, and later the ashes are buried. It was damned cold out there, but we watched two flags get retired. It was a cool thing to see, but next time, let's do it in April.

Veterans Day
Happy Veterans Day, from a happy veteran.

In truth, I was lucky. Not too many conflicts happened during my time, but we were always expecting one (I remember watching the Tienamen Square coverage closely, think "Here it comes."). That was Reagan's Cold War, mostly, and then Old Man Bush. So people call me a veteran, but as I've said before, I don't feel like one.

All of you who are in harm's way, I'm thinking about you. I consider you my brothers- and sisters-in-arms.

Get home safe.

music happenings
I went to a music gathering today. It happens every month, but I haven't attended much this year. So I had the chance and I went. I got my eye doctor to meet me there. He's actually a pretty good fiddler, and I've been trying to get him there for over a year. Too bad he couldn't stay longer than he did, but maybe he'll come back soon. The thing always closes with going around a circle, introduce yourself, and play a tune if you're so inclined. I was a bit late getting to the circle, and took the only available seat that I could see...right next to two people I used to play with years ago. I think Dave is nostalgic for those days -- the musical chemistry was very good. Kim had appeared, out of whatever hiding she'd been in for, well, ever since the band split up. The two of them played a song together, and then I played a fiddle tune. After we had gone around the circle, someone noted that we had just a few minutes before we had to vacate the building, if someone wanted to play something. Then someone else made a request of a set of tunes our old group used to do. We actually once made an EP length CD, and this was the first track off that. We used to do that one at every gig. Dave asked me if I could play it on fiddle (I always used a mandola). I said I never have, but I thought so. So we played, and the applause when we finished was scary. It's probably been four years, maybe five, since we've played together. Yeah, the chemistry is still there.

Thoughts after shopping with the family
To whomever it was that thought to put a guitar store right next to the fabric store:

You are a genius.

Will this cost me my kitchen privileges?
I just sliced off my left index fingertip. Not as bad as it sounds; it's mostly callous, from playing stringed instruments. It doesn't hurt at all, but it has bled a lot. The Spouse is furious. I hope I don't lose kitchen rights, because I like the kitchen. Besides, who's the better cook? Oh yeah, me.

OK, I spoke to soon. It hurts now. Owwww.

Radiologic Technology Week
Yeah, it's not a big deal to most of you, but one November day in 1895, Wilhelm Roentgen was playing with a Crookes tube, using it to make phospors glow. That was actually considered a fun thing to do back then; now it makes me wince to think of all that absence of lead shielding, and how everyone in the room was getting radiated. What Wilhelm did that made it different was he stuck his hand between the tube and the phospors. I don't know why. Maybe he was trying to make little shadow figures with his hands. When he looked over at the phospors to see the shadow chicken, he actually saw the outline of the bones of his hand, wrist and forearm. Thus was a new occupation born.

So I have a job, thanks to Wilhelm Roentgen.

Plus we'll have bagels from Panera brought in tomorrow morning.

Cool.

Tricking and treating
I took the kids around the neighborhood this evening. Since they were in costume, I put on my ren faire garb. This led to exchanges like the following:

"Dude, are you a hobbit?"
(No, this is my ren faire garb.)
"Huh?"
(I'm a Renaissance guy.)
"A rena...rena...what?"
(OK, I'm a hobbit.)

The Spouse and Girlchild were off to a Girl Scout camping dealie. I stayed home with the Boy. Mostly uneventful, but we did work on badge requirements for his scouting. This morning, my daughter calls with "almost home, but C (the co-leader) is drving because Mommy's sick." OK, so I bundle her to bed and unload the van myself. She was dizzy and had been vomiting. Maybe half an hour later, I get from the two of them that she fell last night and hit her head.

(Get up, get in the van. You need a head CT. You have a concussion.)

So off to the ER. She got a head CT, which came back negative. No subdural bleed is a good thing! Then she insisted we go to her folks', to see some cousins who were passing through. That's done, we are home, she's medicated and in bed, and she's staying home from work tomorrow.

I just got off the phone with an old friend. I haven't seen him in over ten years, although he does live in the metro area. We've talked on the phone a few times. He's about to relocate to Atlanta and wanted to get together before he moves.

Then: "Who ya voting for?"

I don't like to be asked that. I hate it, in fact. It's one of my sore areas. Most people, I would have hung up the phone. Him, I yelled at, and told him it was none of his business, it's nobody's business, I never tell who I plan to vote for, don't ask me that again. I think the Spouse was concerned, you know, that whole shaking with rage thing.

Well, he did apologize, and we will meet up for lunch before he leaves. I'm still agitated, though.

As for the rest of you, it applies to you as well. Don't ask me who I'm voting for, or have voted for. It's none of your damn business.

I've disabled comments in case anyone feels the need to be a smartass.

Surviving Faire
Ren Faire was this past weekend. Weather was perfect. I got my picture Sunday's paper, sitting at the base of the Maypole and playing fiddle. It wasn't planned as a photo-op; I just really wanted to sit down, having been on my feet for nearly five hours. I'd had a couple of brief prctices with the dancers, but they were done without the pole. So when they were unwinding the ribbons, I asked, "How close do you girls get to this pole? Then is it OK if I sit right here?"

My other sets weren't that well attended. I've noticed in the past, the crowd here is moderately indifferent to music acts, not just to mine. Sunday morning, my first set was 15 minutes after gate opening, at a stage in the back, and zero attendance. Well, I'm not about to sing to a bunch of straw bales, so I sat down and played fiddle until I got tired of it, then guitar until the half hour was up. My daughter offered to go ask people to sit down and listen, but I declined. Sunday mornings are always especially slow, it's morning for one thing, and many people are at church for another thing. Still, I understand that an empty stage is bad. So I played anyway. I told her it's getting paid to practice.

Later, I wandered over to the SCA area (I think it was being called a village) and played a few tunes with a couple of those guys, who welcomed me with wine (and also a recruitment spiel).

In the end, two very long, yet fun days that left me exhausted.

Mr. Six-Pack
So, about this Joe Six-Pack thing: I can't decide if I should be insulted or wear it as a badge of honor. Or both.

Ren Faire tomorrow
Fishers Ren Faire is tomorrow. I should be practicing, maybe, or even better, have gone to bed already. I have to be there early, and I live on the other side of the metro area. In some ways, I'm dreading it. It seems that each year, I take a different approach, so there is no continuity from year to year. This year my daughter will be joining me. She loves to sing and dance play music music, but hates to perform. So I'm concerned how she will do. Also, I'm not sure she realizes what a long day is in store. I have five sets if you count providing music for the Maypole dancers. I should go to bed.

Being green, or trying to
I bought a new lawn mower. Actually, I've had it for a few months, but I'm good at putting things off, so it's been sitting in the box. I bought a reel mower, also called a human-powered mower, better known as a push mower, or, here in Indiana, a poosh mower.

I put it together this evening and went out to try it out. Not terribly hard to use. I can see that it will take more effort than the other one, but not drastically so. I did learn, however, that there is truth in the comments not to use it in extremely tall grass. The tall grasses snap right back up unscathed. It cuts the short stuff around it very nicely, which only serves to emphasize how tall the foxtail has gotten. I'll have to use gasoline tomorrow.

Shillings, receptions and promotions
Saturday, I drove out to Danville to see Four Shillings Short. They always play out there when they're in the area. They said they'd be back in three years; they have a very busy tour schedule. After the concert, I hung out to talk with them. Aodh og said they might be moving to Ireland for a few years. I asked them if they could handle living in a house after nine years of itinerance.

Then Sunday, I had a wedding reception contra dance gig. I wasn't thrilled about it, but Phil booked it. He didn't think about it being a Sunday evening, and all of us having to work the next day. He didn't think about how far Turkey Run State Park is from Indy. he didn't arrange for a sound system. To my mind, he didn't ask for enough money, either. So it was very nearly the Kill Phil show. We drove out (well, I drove), play for an apathetic crowd, got paid and finally went home. It was 0030 when I called home as we were unloading at Phil's house and past 0100 when I got to bed.

My alarm goes off at 0500. I spent my workday pounding down coffee, and falling asleep whenever I sat down, including some scary episodes while driving home.

At home, I changed, and went in to the studio for my usualy Monday training time. My teacher said, "How long you had that black belt?"

(Close to three years, I think)

"Time for second degree, doncha think?"

Just like that?

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