Blog-O! (Posts about everythingelse)

Why?

Amy Brown — Wed, 09 May 2007 21:28:58 GMT

Why is it that we have three thousand different pens and pencils of varying styles and manufacturers in this house, but only two good ones? One of which is at all times attached to last week's cryptic crossword?

New Pictures Up

Amy Brown — Sun, 26 Nov 2006 19:40:00 GMT

We are in this weird state in packing and moving where everything we can do a week in advance has been done, so today is kind of a quiet day. That means I have had a chance to sit down and post the two or three months worth of pictures that I was behind.

Calamity Jane

Amy Brown — Wed, 22 Nov 2006 15:47:00 GMT

(Michelle, you should maybe skip this post in light of our conversation re: passing out during an episode of ER.)

Yesterday, as I was shuffling, shoeless about the house (as usual) I stabbed my foot on a splinter. Crap, I thought, that hurts; but I was in the middle of preparing supper for the girls so I carried on, and in a lull in the cooking I got my tweezers and tried to pull the splinter out so I could get on with my evening.

The splinter didn't come out; I couldn't get a good grip on it with my shiny red Tweezerman slanted tweezers while I was hopping around on one foot, so I brought a dining room chair into the kitchen (where the light is best) and sat down.

Once, twice, three times I pulled and somehow always lost my grip on the splinter before I got it out. Finally I really dug those pointy Tweezerman corners into my foot, pinched the splinter as tight as I could and pulled hard.

To my horror what I had thought was a little sliver turned out to be an inch-long spear of hardwood floor. I immediately started bleeding all over the floor, great big bright red drops, so I grabbed a tea towel off the stove (there's a good reason to make sure you get a fresh tea towel out every day; if you injure yourself at least you know there's at most a day worth of crap on the first towel that comes to hand) and applied pressure with one hand while calling for backup with the other. Fortunately Zaida was only a couple of minutes away so he came right over to help with the girls' supper while I bandaged myself up and cleaned the kitchen floor.

That was yesterday.

Last Tuesday, I woke up in the middle of the night with the most excruciating pain I had ever had (although bear in mind I didn't go through labour, so this could be nothing compared to that). It felt like someone was punching me all over my chest and back. It went on for ten or fifteen minutes and was gone as soon as it had come. It came again on Thursday morning (there's just something especially cool about lying on the floor in agony while your three-year-old tries to figure out what to do with herself -- Mummies aren't supposed to get sick!) so on Friday I went to the doctor. She thinks I might have gallstones, so I am getting an ultrasound this Friday to check it out.

While I was at the doctor she informed me that those red bumps on my belly which I thought were maybe bites or something are actually shingles, for which she gave me a prescription for a week's worth of blue horse pills, anti-virals, and an exhortation to rest. (I laughed, and offered to let her come over and look after Cordelia and pack while I rested.)

So to recap: gallstones, shingles, and a bloody great hole in the bottom of my foot. It made yesterday's application for life insurance a barrel of fun, for sure. Well, Blake laughed a lot anyway.

Talk About Your Holy Wars

Amy Brown — Tue, 26 Sep 2006 16:17:00 GMT

In the toddler room at Delphine's daycare there is a Gabriel, a Michael, a Heaven... and a Darwin. There must be some almighty fights in there.

And what else?

Amy Brown — Mon, 11 Sep 2006 14:55:00 GMT

I have allergies, killer ragweed allergies. I never used to be allergic to anything until a couple of years ago. I think I will blame the children. I can blame Cordelia, this year, for preventing me from taking anything; we are still nursing and there isn't much you're allowed to take. So I walk around with a head full of cement all day and use a nasal decongestant spray at night so I can sleep. This sucks. Apparently ragweed season goes until November. That sucks too.

In other news, we are poking at the idea of moving. More than poking, actually; we are submitting our mortgage application today to find out how much house we can afford. I hope we will have a new place by Christmas, although we're not on any sort of a deadline so we can take as much time as we need to find a good house.

So I'm packing up and getting rid of things and making lists and all those sorts of things that people do, and that's mostly why I am not posting here very much; if I have time to blog then I have time to pack a box or two, so I do that instead. Which I should go do now...

Thirty-One

Amy Brown — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 01:35:00 GMT

Tuesday was my birthday, and I am finally thirty-one. Thirty-one is a bit more convincing than thirty, which sounds a bit like you're making it up, or at least rounding. And when you're thirty-one you're really, properly in your thirties, not just, thirty.

Delphine's daycare is closed this week, so I invited a bunch of her friends over and the day that worked for everyone happened to be my birthday, so we had Ursa and Tanya over, and Dexter and Ellen and Maxine. I was talking to Delphine about our plans for the day over breakfast, and I said, "Who's coming over today?" She said "Dexter." "Who else?" "Ellen, and Maxine."

I said, "Who else?"

She said, "Who?"

"Ursa!"

"Ursa?" She looked slightly alarmed. "Two friends?"

"Yeah, two friends! Is two friends too many?"

"Yeah. Why two friends?"

It turned out that two friends wasn't actually too many, but she didn't like the idea of it.

Anyway, we got some KFC (which I always have for my birthday), and Morgan and Kathryn came over too, and Morgan brought cake, so the house was noisy and full of fun for my birthday, which I love. I was absolutely exhausted by the end of it all, but it was a good exhaustion. I like my friends. And my friends' children.

Then tonight was the family dinner; Morgan and Erik and Baba and Zaida came over and we had steak and mashed potatoes and honey-spice cake which Blake made for me.

It has been a nice birthday, unambitious and simple and thoroughly enjoyable.

Back in the running

Amy Brown — Fri, 14 Jul 2006 13:37:00 GMT

My knee is better. On my chiropractor's* advice I went to see a podiatrist to see if I have any functional problems with my feet, and he didn't find anything. He thought it was a "weekend warrior" injury, which I find curiously flattering since no-one has ever accused me of being in any way warrior-like before. I think he's right, I just overdid it; not only was I wearing the wrong shoes, but I was also trying to run like a real runner when at this stage I should be doing the old-lady-shuffle to get my body used to this unprecedented level of physical activity.

I resumed running a couple of weeks ago, but I only managed to go out a couple of times before we decided to switch our evening routine around, which left me without a good time to go out. Blake and I talked about it, and finally decided that the only time I can go is after dinner. I was reluctant to go out after a meal, but there is no other good option, as I will discuss in another post (if I have time). And it will encourage me to eat a lighter dinner, which I could certainly stand to do.

Last night I went for my first postprandial run and it was great. I didn't really want to go — it is against my nature to leave the house after seven at night — but go I did. I ran on the Beltline, an old rail track nearby which has been converted into a trail, again on my chiro's recommendation because it's softer and easier on the joints than pavement. I thought it would be boring running the Beltline all the time, but I really enjoy all the people I see; couples with little kids going out for a walk after dinner; fat people like me trying to get fit; trim, middle-aged rich women walking briskly in pairs or groups; serious runners with expensive gear; groups of teenagers on bikes; people out walking their dogs. Yesterday I saw an old lady out for a fitness walk wearing white shorts and a t-shirt, thin putty-coloured ankle socks and plimsoll runners, and no bra. And I thought I would be bored!

I am still doing two minutes of walking and one minute of running, which is how they start you off in the Running Room clinic. When I got home last night I realized it had been a pretty easy run, so next time I will step it up to one-and-one.

* While my chiropractor is technically a chiropractor, the care she gives me is mainly something called Active Release Techniques which is basically very targeted massage with movement, designed to loosen tight muscles and break down scarring. Since pretty much all my physical problems stem from tight muscles in my legs and butt it works really well for me. I say this because I don't want you to think I am dumb enough to go to a chiropractor for a sore knee — I would no more do that than go to an opthamologist for a sore elbow.

New Pictures

Amy Brown — Mon, 10 Jul 2006 15:28:00 GMT

I put up some new pictures in the gallery; everything after May is new. Enjoy!

Shut up, nasty little man.

Amy Brown — Fri, 30 Jun 2006 18:14:00 GMT

I realized today why my injured knee has been bothering me so much, emotionally. It's because that horrible little man, that man who lives in the back of my head and who I thought I had banished forever, is dancing with glee. He is dancing with glee and hissing "You see? I told you! I told you you are too fat to be a runner!'

Shut up, nasty little man, and crawl back in your hole, because my knee feels better today and I will run again.

Okay, you know the other thing that pisses me off about this? (Soon I will stop going on about this, I promise.) Blake decided that he was going to ride his bike up to Balm Beach, like, 135 kilometers, and you know what, I bet he is going to do it. But I decide I am going to start running and not two weeks into it I am couch-bound with a stupid injury! This after I had to give up hot yoga because of my back! It's like every time I try and get fitter something fouls it up.

How come everyone else can do this stuff and I can't? Waah!

I know, welcome to my pity party. I hope that eventually this will just be a humourous anecdote about the inauspicious start to my long running career. There I will be, cocktail in hand: "I had only been running for a week -- I had been out three times! -- and there I was with an injured knee! Ha ha! Can you believe it! Well, then I got proper shoes and here I am, three marathons later! Incredible! Ha ha ha! Pass the olives!"

Woe Is Me (But At Least I Am Not Dead)

Amy Brown — Wed, 28 Jun 2006 18:14:00 GMT

A couple of weeks ago, after I read that Silken Laumann book, I realized that I no longer had any excuse not to take a running clinic at The Running Room. I had thought for a while about taking a clinic, thought about it, planned to do it at some unspecified point in the future... and suddenly I realized that that point was now. Cordelia is old enough that she can be away from me for a while, and Blake is more than willing to look after her and Delphine while I go out running.

So I signed up for the Learn To Run clinic, a ten-week program that promises to take the slobbiest slob and render them capable of running a 5K. I dug out my old running shoes and showed up the first Saturday, 8:30 in the morning. I was full of energy, keen to go, had been up for hours already! I ran, I walked, it was great, it was easier than I thought, I loved being out in the fresh air first thing in the morning before all the crowds. I went for a practice run that Monday, and then for a bike ride with Blake on Thursday. I was feeling good, healthy, my back was feeling looser and less painful than it had in years.

Okay, my knee was a little sore on the bike ride, but hey! My knees are always a little sore! Arthritis, right? Getting some exercise and losing weight will only help, right? So I went to the clinic and ran again -- it was still good, but a little harder this week. Oh, and they mentioned that you should really get new shoes after you have babies because your feet change. Oh.

By then my knee really hurt, but I walked the twenty-minute walk home, then back up to the store again later that day to buy new shoes, and home again. (I am really stupid.)

My knee still hurt by Wednesday -- all the time, whether I was walking or running or just sitting -- so I went to see my physical therapist. And as it turns out, I have injured the cartilage in my knee and I won't be able to run for at least a couple of weeks, if ever. (The "if ever" part we will find out through a process of trial and error, lucky me.)

And in the meantime, I have to stay off my feet as much as possible; no trip to the store, no trip to the library to pick up the books I have on hold there. It's a blessing that Starbucks is just across the street, that's all I say. The irony is that I started this trying to get fit, and here I am more sedentary than ever.

Oh woe, oh woe, but at least I am not dead. (A friend of a friend was killed in a horseback riding accident last weekend, a timely reminder that it could always be worse.)