Old One Arm

Tomorrow my husband is having surgery on his left hand to relieve carpal tunnel pain. The hand will be mostly immobilized for two weeks, from the middle of the fingers to almost the elbow. Yesterday the husband chastised me, and practically suggested I was a blooming idiot, because I expressed concern at his statement that OF COURSE he would be able to drive his truck with only the right hand functioning. Okay so it's an automatic transmission, but still. Are my nitwit neurons in full bloom, or what? Sigh.

Piles

When I was growing up, I remember that "piles" was a euphemism for hemorrhoids with my mom's generation. This winter on Long Island, I think it's universally understood that whenever someone utters the word "piles" he or she is talking about snow. The snow in the corner of the parking lot which blocks several spaces, the snow on the side of the road which blocks part of the driving lane...but especially the snow in the yard and on the side of the driveway at your house.

Although I'm hurting this morning, yesterday I was able to haul shovels full of snow from the street up the driveway and toss the snow over the four foot high mounds on the far side of the driveway. Why did I have to do that? Because the mounds on each side of the driveway near the street were already five or six feet high...and if any snow landed in the street instead of on top of the mounds, we'd get it back in front of the driveway when the plow returned...but not merely as snow. Whenever the plow deposits anything, it's snow mixed with ice. Double whammy.

We also have to be careful to avoid putting snow on the sidewalk (which is extensive, as we have a corner property) because our village has a law that the sidewalks must be cleared within four hours of the cessation of any snowfall...though, mercifully, they exempt the hours of 9PM to 7AM. Nice to know that I don't have to shovel at 4AM if we got a storm that ended at midnight. That's a bit early even for this morning chickadee.

I was impressed with the kids yesterday. The older two were showing off their upper body strength by throwing the snow onto mounds that were taller than they were. Even the youngest actually moved a lot of snow when shoveling. Usually he mostly moves his mouth. :-)

I'm thinking that I should begin lifting weights this spring so that I can retain some newly gained muscle tone so it will be there when I need it next winter.

Oh, wait, hubby said that this is the last snow he'll ever clear with a shovel (about two storms ago) because he's getting a snow blower. We actually have one at my mother's house but it's too big to transport back and forth in the practical sense...but it's also been broken for years. Sigh, it's just a lot of talk for now. At least he'll be making good on that statement temporarily, because he's having surgery on his hands to take care of a longstanding carpal tunnel problem. Next week they operate on the left hand, and then about a month later on the right...which will put him out of the shoveling business for the rest of the winter. Well, at least the snow shoveling business...

Note that I refrained from using "piles" to describe the snow mountains on our property because, after the first paragraph, I realized that the snow mountains are as much of a pain as hemorrhoids. There's literally no place to put any more snow this winter, and if the weather report is correct, none will be melting any time soon. Oy.

Being a Fan

Anyone else have this problem? You're trying to watch a sporting event (live or televised) or even do another activity in the same room (or house) as someone else who's watching a televised sporting event...and you have to listen to a pessimistic, defeatist commentary if things aren't going 100% right 100% of the time.

Doesn't matter what it is. The other team scores. Our team missed scoring. One of our guys missed making a great play. One of our guys didn't prevent a guy on the other team from making a great play. The ref decided in the other team's favor. etc. etc. etc. We could be down by one point, but "we're going to lose." There could be no score at all, but because one of the above occurred, "I should just shut the TV right now, because this game is over." This could occur two minutes into the game, even...which, particularly in the case of football, is beyond ridiculous!

When I ask for this loud (and often vulgar) display to be curtailed, I'm told "that's what it is to be a fan." Really? What happened to cheerleading? What happened to holding out hope until the last second that your squad can pull out a win (or, in hockey, a respectable tie)? Does it make sense to call everyone involved, including coaches and owners, every dirty name in the book...and then, during their next game, to do a complete 180 if they happen to be winning and say they're the greatest team that ever lived?

Drives me nuts! I prefer to demonstrate my loyalty, and consistency, in a different way. If they sucked all season, I still love 'em as much as the season when they took the championship. Now I think I'm a real fan. I've gotta be. The New York Mets? The New York Islanders? C'mon.

Out of the Mouths of Tweens

Last night I visited my local library, which had been closed for renovations for a few weeks until yesterday. They did a great job with it...added a second entrance (close to the parking lot!), lots more open space, better organization of collections, and so on. After checking out some CDs, a yoga DVD, and a few books, I headed for the door. As I was exiting, a kid about my middle son's age was entering with his mom. He commented, "Look at our lovely tax dollars." His embarrassed mother shushed him, but I couldn't help laughing. Laughed all the way to the car. Wonder whether the kid has a job yet. :-).

Regrets, I've Had a Few...

This past Saturday's Cryptoquote in Newsday:

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone. -- Harriet Beecher Stowe

Will Play for Pizza

Continuing with the subject line motif of yesterday's post... :-)

This week there are rehearsals for this coming Saturday's All County band concert (9th and 10th grade division) at the Tilles Center. Son #1 is playing clarinet in the concert. Last year the students were bussed to Westbury High School the week before the concert; this year it's Baldwin. Maybe next time we do this it'll be somewhere closer to home!

I don't know how the kids are expected to keep up with homework without staying up all night. The bus leaves the school 45 minutes after the end of classes, they rehearse from 4 to 8, they get back to their own school around 8:30, and get home before 9:00 if they're lucky. And not much time to catch up if there are three of these nights the week before the concert. Sigh. But my parental frustration can only carry so much weight because my son LOVES the honor and will do whatever it takes to make it work for him.

Being that they're at rehearsal through the dinner hour, they can brown bag it (which is what my kid does every day...bologna...ugh) or they can take advantage of whatever food is brought in for the kids to purchase. I guess this makes me a good mom according to nutritionists, and a bad mom according to teenagers...but my son was so glad to have pizza the other night! And he said he'd be happy to eat pizza all three rehearsal nights if that's what they have. Sheesh, at home he gets some kind of protein and some kind of vegetable and usually a starch which is necessary to keep Insulin Man alive to tell about it the next day. My kids are in tip top health but they don't correlate that with their diet, of course. Harumph.

So now you know the secret if you want to bribe my eldest. Come to think of it, that might also work with the other two...

Will Work for Cookies

This morning we all went out to shovel the ten or so inches of snow that the latest winter storm dumped on us overnight. After we ate lunch, we called my mother to let her know we were on our way over to shovel her out. At age 75, with moderate to severe osteoarthritis in both her knees, she can't do it herself. She was thrilled to tell us that her neighbor's son John brought over his snow blower and cleared most of her two car driveway, so there wasn't that much for us to do when we got there. But she was stumped about how to thank him. I volunteered to pick up something from the local Italian bakery (since all traditional Italian families tend to appreciate that sort of thing).

I had really wanted some struffoli but they didn't have any, so I settled for a pound of assorted cookies. When we arrived at Mom's I went straight across the street with the cookies. The dad answered the door and was astounded about the cookies, so appreciative. The mom opened the front window and told me how crazy my mom was to make me do that. The son came over a few minutes later to thank us. They all seemed to think that we were awfully nice to make a small gesture after John had done my mom a great favor without being asked. I look upon it as feeding a basic human need for validation, appreciation, and also a good relationship with one's neighbors. Besides, even though it probably only took him ten minutes, it was a big relief for Mom.

Smiles all around after we left Mom's. We stopped at the new 7-11 down the road from there, and the kids got a treat. The older two got hot cocoa. The little guy got a sticky honey bun. Hubby said his blood sugar was rising from merely smelling it. Of course, in the five minute ride home, it was completely consumed down to the finger licking afterwards. Sweet...

Oh My Ears and Whiskers

Last night I turned on the TV after the kids went to bed because I wasn't sleepy yet (although I ought to have been, but oh well). A&E was showing the season finale of Hoarders which I find strangely mesmerizing in the same way as is Intervention. Maybe it's because I used to have issues with alcohol and food as a young adult, and also because I tend to be somewhat untidy...but the comparisons with the people on these shows make me feel absolutely AOK.

Anyhow, last night the two situations were as follows: 1) a widower who allowed a tank of three pet rats to become a colony of over 1000 rats which had overrun the house including the furniture and walls; 2) a divorcee who kept over 40 cats and hoarded other people's castoffs which she thought she might recycle somehow someday. Seeing and hearing over 4000 sets of rat claws gave me the willies, as did the sight (and imagined smell) of a house being used as a litter box. Often this show profiles food hoarders, which has its own disgusting sights of rotting produce and happy feasting insects. None of that last night.

Now I must say that cats and rats are not at all among my favorite animals, but it was very sad to see the state of some of them once they were removed from the homes. The guy who kept the rats became visibly unnerved when he was faced with the decision of euthanizing some of them once he was shown the extent of the illnesses or injuries by animal rescue personnel. Makes me think of Bob Barker's usual plea about neutering your cats and dogs at the end of each Price Is Right show. I'm not a pet owner, but it sounds like a good idea to take excellent care of the ones we have.

Nothing New Here

I look back at my last post, just before New Year's, and I cringe. That was merely a general statement about various trends in the stream of news and public consciousness. And now we have someone who's shot an Arizona congresswoman and over a dozen other people.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let's all find a way to get along with our neighbors, coworkers, fellow supermarket customers, commentators in cyberspace, etc. as they are here to stay. Thinking we can wave a wand and change the attitudes of all who don't agree with us is foolish. Thinking we can (or should) exterminate them is also foolish. Thinking that there are others who want to exterminate US because we disagree with THEM is downright terrifying.

All we can do is begin with ourselves. Today.