You never really know what's going to come of a call to Dr. Academic's office.

I don't really call all that often any more, simply because I'm not having that many problems. I never called all that much to begin with, simply because I felt guilty taking time away from patients who could really use the help. I sucked up many of my complaints, and I was glad that, when they passed, I skipped calling for help. Going through chemo is like going through anything else: you get used to it. But even now that I'm through the worst, I nonetheless have to call in every now and again to get certain things taken care of---getting my vicodin prescription refilled is at the top of the list (due to idiotic Minnesota state law in regards to narcotics, you can't order a refill through the pharmacy, but rather you have to go through your doctor's office). Any time I have questions, though, they're pretty good about getting me an answer, even though Dr. Academic's main nurse, who is omniscent and omnipotent and is, generally speaking, AWESOME, has been on maternity leave since December and her absence has really been screwing things up. That aside, I called in the other day because, well, I've been having some pain in a place where I shouldn't be having any: my pelvic region. Particularly, in the area where all the trouble began.

I called in because, mainly, I was curious. It's not high-grade pain. It's very low on that 1-10 scale they use to rate your pain, and I was more curious about it than anything else. I thought, perhaps, this was me finally feeling the mysterious endometriosis, which I never knew I had until after I had my surgery. Dr. Academic had mentioned at our last meeting that he thought, perhaps, that the chemo hadn't killed it off, like they thought it would. Apparently, endometrial tissue is the cellular equivalent of a cockroach who's still putzing around after a nuclear war. I was told to keep an eye on things and to report in if I had any pain. I had pain, so I reported in.

The last thing I expected---and I seriously mean that---would be to receive a call back later in the day, telling me that Dr. Academic would really like it if I came in to give blood for a CA-125 test and to have another Pet Scan done, as well. Well, hello there sailor! Furthermore, even though I had my three month checkup already scheduled for next week, they wanted to move it up to a day when Dr. Academic was actually in the office. It makes your head spin, sometimes, when a doctor freaks out, and starts ordering tests willy nilly.

It had seriously never occurred to me that the cancer might be back, but even after this information had been related to me, I still had a hard time getting worked up about it. I really didn't think the cancer was back and was fairly certain that he was freaking out over nothing. Yet, I nonetheless went in for the CA-125 (and, man, was it ever weird being back in that office after a three month absence! All those worried, exhausted, sick people of whom I used to be one. It's just a sad place to be when you're well.), and the next day went in for the Pet Scan, and then went about my business. I knew that if the cancer was back, well, that didn't bode well. The odds are that if ovarian cancer comes back after an optimal surgery (which I had) and optimal chemo (which I also had), "Ovarian Cancer" would most likely be listed as the cause of my death on my death certificate. As in it would be inevitable, unless I died from getting run over by a bus or a Benz-driving Soccer Mom gabbing uncontrollably into a cell phone. That's just how it works. That's the point where a cure is forever put out of reach; you will simply receive treatment to keep you alive, but you'll eventually die of ovarian cancer, at some point in the future. It might be next week, or it might be thirty years from now, but it will happen. It's very sad, but it's very true, as well. Even knowing this, I just couldn't get worked up over it. It just didn't feel like cancer, which, I'll grant you, is ironic given my original OB-GYN said precisely the same thing before my surgery, but, still, it didn't feel like it. Cancer for me means lots of pain and fatigue that comes out of nowhere and demands that you take a nap. I'm not having any of that. Despite the fact I'm still feeling some of the aftereffects of chemo, for the most part, I feel great! My body is working the way it's supposed to. And while I'm absolutely certain that you can probably feel great and still have cancer, I was fairly certain that I hadn't recurred.

It turned out that I was right, too. The test results came back yesterday and the nurse called me first thing to relay them. My CA-125 is at 5.6, which is fantastic and the Pet Scan came back as normal, as well. I know we're no further along in figuring out why I'm having pelvic pain, but we can sort that out on Tuesday, when I have my appointment.

I suspect it's the endometriosis that's causing the trouble. I've been on HRT since July, and have been feeling some weird things in that region ever since I started up, but there's been no pain, until now. Endometriosis feeds on estrogen, which is, of course, what the HRT is supplying so I don't have to suffer through hot flashes and the like. But I'm also receiving progesterone, the anti-estrogen hormone (it's the predominant hormone during pregnancy, which explains why I'm fat, fat fat right now.) and that was supposed to combat anything the estrogen might do in terms of the endometriosis. Dr. Academic hypothesized that what I was feeling was probably adhesions, which were being charged by the estrogen in the HRT. Now, I don't know if they'll be able to treat it, so I can still stay on HRT, or if I'll have to give up the HRT entirely. It would be bad for me if I went off HRT, not only because I freakin' hate hot flashes, night sweats, and weeping like a ninny every time I turn around, but simply because thirty-seven-year-old women are not supposed to be in menopause. Without the hormones, your bone density deteriorates and the chances for osteoporosis go through the roof, and since osteoporosis jumps from branch to branch in my family tree with the greatest of ease, that's something I'd like to avoid. One of my greatest (and stupid) fears is that I'll shrink---and that one was already in play before I got ovarian cancer. It also means that my expected life span, which is pretty much back to normal since the cancer went on its merry way, would be diminished. So, I need the HRT until I reach the age when I should have hit menopause, despite what it might do to the endometriosis. The benefits, for me, are greater than any risks that might come with taking it.

But then again, I'm not a doctor, so I might be entirely wrong about this whole thing. It was this weekend last year that I was certain I was having a gallbladder attack and went to the ER for help---and we all know how well that turned out. The timing of all this aside (which, honestly, is one of the weirder coincidences in my life), I'd at least like to think I have a better handle on all of this medical stuff. I didn't freak out, like I did back in November, about receiving the results of the pet scan. Perhaps just having more distance between the rigors of chemo over the summer and now has helped. Maybe being at the hospital and getting over some deeply ingrained fears held over from the time I spent there has helped, as well. I don't really know. But, come whatever may on Tuesday (and I suspect something will come, even if I don't know what it is. I've learned that when a doctor freaks out like Dr.Academic did, it's generally something and something will generally come of it.), I've surprised myself this week by handling this pretty well.

Lately, I've thought that I didn't have a lot of emotional reserves left after battling cancer for the better part of a year. I freaked out at the least likely of things, and didn't really have a good grasp on that gift from God called "perspective." I made more of things than I should have. This week was a bit of a wake-up call in that department. Strangely enough, you can apparently bring the threat of cancer back into my life and I won't freak out. Oh, sure, I'll think about it a lot but, for the most part, I won't let it bother me. I wasn't paralyzed with fear. Mostly, as I told the husband repeatedly, I was going to be pissed off if the cancer came back. And I seriously meant that: all that...for what? Just to have to do it all over again? How fucking unfair would that be? What a load of hooey, I thought. I just don't have time for this crap! I feel well. I have been told repeatedly by all and sundry that it's time to get on with my life---only to have to put it on hold again because the cancer had reappeared? I don't fucking think so. And, yes, while I was relieved when the tests came back normal, it wasn't like the huge wave of relief that knocked me over when I received the same results in November.

So, it's been, on the whole, a very weird week. We'll have to see what happens on Tuesday, and on Friday, which is my one year anniversary, to see if next week trumps this one on the weirdness scale.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:27 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Steve-o tacks on an interesting theory to Robbo's post about his plans for the weekend.

Hmmmm.

Robbo as Mr. Bennet? Why, yes, I think that works quite well, thank you ever so much. Enthusiastic daughters? Check. Hides in his study to read extensively and to get away from said enthusiastic daughters? Check. Hasn't properly prepared to ensure that they'll marry well? None of my bleedin' business, but I doubt it.

In the immortal words of Mr. Loaf: Two out of three ain't bad.

If this is true, then Robbo has bigger things to worry about than simply surviving this weekend. He should start preparing a "Gretna Green" plan of attack, you know, should one of the girls decide to run off with a Wickham at some point in the future.

As far as Steve-o being Mr. Collins, well, one then wonders who the Lady Catherine DeBurgh might be.

And despite my excellent ability to bitchslap at ten paces, it's not me.

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Not really a joiner, per se, but this is one club I could join with ease. Minnesotans for Global Warming.

Yep. Sign me up. Particularly considering it's 11 here right now. And that's an improvement over recent days.

{shamelessly hoarked from RP}

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What we have here, kids, is the new teaser trailer for the latest chapter in the Indiana Jones saga. Take a peek.

Man, I don't know whether to be excited or just scared as hell that Lucas is going to fuck it up.

I adore Indy. I really do. Raiders is one of my favorite movies. Is it the equivalent of high literature filmmaking? No. It's definitely not Wings of the Dove material, but the glorious part is that it doesn't have to be. It's a story worth telling, and they told it well. The simple fact that they told it well, in my humble opinion, puts it right up there with any number of Best Picture Oscar winners. Besides, it's got nasty Nazis, long lost hidden treasure, Denholm Elliot, John Rhys-Davies, and snakes, which are a trial to our mercenary treasure hunter, conflicted hero, Indiana Jones, whose weapon of choice is a bull whip. What more could you ask for? But most important, it's got Marion Ravenwood, Indy's spunky lost love. Karen Allen doesn't get a lot of credit for making that movie work, but it's been obvious in the two sequels, simply by her absence, how much her presence in Raiders was integral to making the legend of Indy come alive. She gave Indy a past---and a caddish one at that. But she also established that he had his redeeming points, particularly when he mourned her in the bar in Cairo. He could have been a blank slate, but he came with baggage, and that made him all the more compelling a character. That's why I'm SO stoked to see that they brought Marion back for this new one. I have missed her terribly. (According to IMDB, we will also see Abner, Marion's father, for the first time, and he's being played by the always excellent John Hurt. I'm assuming this will be in flashback format, since it was established in Raiders that Abner was dead.)

But there are several things about this trailer that are very disturbing. Very, very disturbing. First off, what's with the lead-in that paints Indy as the next messiah? "He protected the power of the divine?" Hardly. If you'll remember he wanted the Ark to be opened up repeatedly and studied, but the government disagreed with him. "He saved the cradle of civilization?" I don't really remember Temple of Doom all that well---I refuse to watch it again because it was so horrible---but I think that might be a bit of a stretch. "He triumphed over the armies of evil?" What? He defeated Hitler singlehandedly? While Indy's a fairly resourceful dude, I doubt even he could have managed that. He looked like he was about to shit his pants when Hitler autographed the Grail Diary.

This introduction just makes me wary. Georgie Porgie Puddin' and Pie Lucas seemingly is unable to work with shades of gray---his characters of late are either all good, or all bad. For example, he reworked the cantina scene in Star Wars to have Greedo shoot first, instead of Han, who was the culprit in the original edition. Everything white must be good. Everything in black must be bad. There's no in-between. No nuance. I know he'd probably argue otherwise, but this is my impression. Lawrence Kasdan---the original screenwriter who gave Indy breath, bones, flesh, and flaws---where are you when we need you? Indy is not the messiah. He's not even all that good, in the scheme of things. Now, I will grant you that, with Last Crusade, the kiddification of Indiana Jones had already started, but they have the opportunity to turn it around with this film, and I sincerely hope they do. But with Lucas holding the purse strings, well, you have to wonder if it will actually happen.

The next problem I have with this is that, apparently, Indy's got a sidekick---again---in Ray Winstone. While I like Winstone just fine, the last time Indy had a sidekick, well, it was Short Round in Temple of Doom and we all know how well that worked out. (I don't count Indy's Dad as a sidekick. He was on the same level as Indy, not beneath him, which is where a sidekick generally resides. Sallah doesn't really count either, because there was a certain quality about him that just doesn't qualify him for sidekick mode. He could arrange any number of things for Indy---sidekicks are just along for the ride, and to throw Indy his whip when it's out of his reach.) Indy, for all intents and purposes, is a loner. His work is at its best when he works by himself. A sidekick will simply slow things down, and create too much bleedin' exposition. I hope they treat Ray well. I really do, but, gracious, it certainly doesn' t bode well.

I don't know how excited I am to see that there's the possibility of a "New Indy" being introduced, either. Yes, you need someone to bring in the younger viewers, especially since it's been nineteen years since Last Crusade was released, but Shia LeBeouf? You couldn't come up with anyone else? Eh. I don't know. I think this casting move also harks back to the Lucas kiddification. Gotta have someone the kids can relate to. Bleh.

But there are also good points to this trailer. Cate Blanchett apparently is the villainess (replete with jet black hair!), and she rarely, if ever, sucks, so it's got that going for it. And, of course, Marion makes her return, so there's that, too. It's also got a warehouse full of wooden boxes, and US Army cars and trucks. Hmmm. Where have we seen that before? Could it be that Indy, and his trusty sidekick (sigh!) are going in to try and retrieve the Ark? Hmmm? Trying to tie up some loose strings? I don't know. It's also, apparently, got ancient temples replete with booby traps, and that collapse at the drop of a fedora.

Sigh.

I JUST DON'T KNOW ABOUT ANY OF THIS!

I'll be there, first in line, when it's released, but, really and truly, THIS HAD BETTER NOT SUCK! They ended it on a good note with Last Crusade. I can only hope that they don't regret making another sequel, and that I don't regret handing over $8.50 to see it.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:48 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I fully believe that RP's kids are going to be world class, Grade A Prime people by the time they hit adulthood.

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Do you think Hillary's getting a wee bit miffed by Barack's constant plagiarizing of Bubba's 1992 campaign?

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Since I spent a lot of time on the sofa this past year, watching tee vee, I tried to make the effort to watch educational tee vee, so I could at least get something out of the only thing I was able to do. As such, and as I've mentioned many times, I watched the Discovery Channel a lot---and in the process got completely hooked on Dirty Jobs. If you're unfamiliar with the premise of the show, it's fairly simple: people who have "dirty jobs" invite the host, Mike Rowe, out to complete a day's labor. It's one of the funnier things I've seen in a long while, because Rowe is completely incompetent and always manages to screw things up. Very funny stuff. Think of it as "Inspector Clouseau Goes to the Dump" or anywhere else that's even remotely filthy. It's a lot fun, and it has the added benefit of making you realize that being a television show host ain't all that glamorous.

Anyhoo, the husband forwarded this interview with Mike Rowe along, and not surprisingly, I laughed just as much reading it as I would have had I been watching his show. Here's one brief, but hilarious, excerpt, regarding Mike's pre-Dirty Jobs days at QVC:

{...}QVC taught Rowe the ins and outs of live TV and how to talk off the cuff on just about anything. "There was no training," he recalls. "Nothing." Working the ultimate graveyard shift--3 a.m. to 6 a.m.--Rowe was left alone to hawk thousands of different products pretty much however he wanted. "Basically, I just made fun of the products and the callers. I was a complete anarchist." He was selling lava lamps, Hummels, and other nonsense, and falling in love with the occasional hand model.

Then came the business with the nun doll. He had just returned from a weekend getaway involving the beach, a case of Dos Equis, and one of those hand models, when a Sunday-evening emergency call arrived from the studio: The prime-time host was ill. Eager to prove his mettle, Rowe rubbed the weekend from his eyes and headed into work, only to find a display of collectible girlie dolls waiting for him. "There were dozens of little hobbits," he recalls, still sounding vaguely offended some 18 years later. "Little pixies from another time, just sitting there like these little Victorian whores. I thought it was a joke."

He was about to be humiliated in his first shot at prime time. "I'd already called everyone I knew to watch." The producer tried to calm him down, but in his panic, Rowe just reverted to his usual shtick. He picked up the first doll, Rachel--"a nightmare in crushed velvet"--by the hair and plopped her in his lap. "I think I described her as 'soulless, a little creepy but kind of hot,' and as 'a runaway from Little Women,'" he says now, rubbing his head. The crew on the set was dumbstruck. But, Rowe says, "I was really encouraged because the little whore sold out in record time."

Then someone handed Rowe a 2-foot nun doll named Sister Mary Margaret. "If you wound her up, she played 'Climb Every Mountain,' which I thought was hysterical." Rowe had four minutes to kill but ran out of material in 30 seconds, including the time he spent having her spank him with a ruler. Then he tried to crank up her music feature. "I've already announced that she plays music, and I'm squeezing her hand, looking around her neck, but I can't figure it out." When the technical director finally cut away to a display version of the same doll, Rowe, in desperation, turned the little sister upside down in his lap and peeled down her garment. He finally found the crank "in the small of her back, but it's really sort of in her ass." Unfortunately, the technical director cut back to Rowe without warning: "Suddenly, I see myself live on the monitor, with Sister Mary Margaret's face in my crotch, my hand on her ass, and her habit around her neck. And the damn thing is playing 'Climb Every Mountain.'" Rowe froze in horror, then made an unfortunate gesture not suitable for prime time. "It was not good." {...}

Go read the whole thing.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:03 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Yeah, so I think we all know that while France is a member of NATO, they haven't committed any troops to that mission since De Gaulle was president. We all know this, right? You didn't? Well, that's what the deal is. However, ever since Sarkozy was elected president, France has been toying with the idea of supplying troops to NATO again. Apparently, however, they're concerned with how NATO is run.

Their concerns have nothing to do with the possibility of their troops being sent out to, say, Afghanistan, unlike their neighbors the Germans. No, their concerns have to do with NATO's bureaucracy---and how unwieldy and bloated it is.

France, which is studying a possible reintegration into NATO military structures, called on Saturday for faster moves to reform the 26-nation body's labyrinthine internal structures and budgets.

Defense Minister Herve Morin told a security conference in Munich that NATO had a 2 billion euro (US$2.90 billion) annual budget and a staff of 22,000 full-time employees, the equivalent of one for every three alliance troops currently on missions.

"It has nearly 320 committees or sub-committees, with some carrying the name of 'committee on the challenges of modern society' or the 'food and agriculture committee'!" Morin said.

Who would have ever guessed that France (FRANCE!!!) could (or even would) be so concerned with the size of a bureaucracy that they might rule out reinvolving themselves because they judged it to be so out of control?

This is shocking.

It's on par with some scientist announcing that, indeed, cats and dogs don't really hate each other.

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Have you heard? Foster and Associates (the geniuses who gave us this brilliant work of art. ) are in the process of building the world's first carbon neutral city, to be called Masdar City.

Wanna guess where Masdar City will be located?

Abu DhabiÂ’s renewable energy initiative, Masdar, has laid the cornerstone of its carbon-neutral, waste-free city, saying it will invest $22bn in the hope that the project becomes a blueprint for sustainable development around the world.

Oil-rich Abu Dhabi said it was committing $15bn (€10.3bn, £7.7bn) into a broad range of alternative energy projects beyond Masdar City, such as solar and hydrogen power plants and solar panel manufacturing sites.

Foster & Partners architects will design the car-free city, housing 50,000 residents by 2016. Masdar’s research institute, founded in partnership with the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, will be located in the 6.5 sq km development that aims to turn into an alternative energy cluster for 1,500 ­businesses.{...}

Yes, you read that correctly. This environmentally forward and car-free project will be built in Abu Dhabi.

And, of course, it will be funded with the proceeds from the sale of all that glorious Texas Tea.

Think that's good? Just wait. It gets better.

{...}To maximise energy efficiency, the cityÂ’s narrow thoroughfares will draw on the traditional architecture of the old walled towns of the Middle East. Carbon emissions saved by these techniques will then be monetised through carbon credits under the Kyoto ProtocolÂ’s clean development mechanism.

{my emphasis}

That's just freakin' genius. Would that we could all be so canny.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:02 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Hey Cake Eaters! Russ from Winterset here. I've got some interesting news coming up that I wanted to share with you, but unfortunately the moveable type system that we use to post items to mu.nu blogs sometimes holds my posts hostage for up to 12 hours, so the source material is inaccessible for now.

Yeah, I COULD type it all over again, but that's inefficient ("efficient" is just a synonym for "lazy" but that's just fine with me, yannow?), so I'll update with a link when there's something available to link to.

Hint? It involves bacon, Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, and competitive eating contests.

UPDATE: The post is now up at Ace's. Feast your eyes on this.

UPDATE FROM KATHY: Go and read. It's pretty damn funny.

Mmmmmm. Pork products rule!

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at 10:45 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Robbo has a clever idea about how to get his garden in shape.

When I was a young girl, I whined volubly about the amount of chores I had to do. They usually revolved around "inside chores," because that's what the girls did in our household. The boys got the manly, outside chores. This, of course, ultimately meant that I---and my three sisters---was forced to clean their bathroom. I didn't think this was very fair and, of course, I whined about it. This cut very little ice with my mother. Her reply to my complaints was always, "Why do you think I had eight kids? Slave labor!"

If she'd been of a different generation, she would have followed it up with a "Duh."

I suspect the Cake Eater Mother would support Robbo's plan.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:50 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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We have this occasional problem with our FT delivery: the paper is actually printed elsewhere (in Chicago, I believe) and has to be flown up here for distribution, and, on occasion, it doesn't make it from the printers to the airport on time. Hence, one day we will go empty handed, but the next, we will have two newspapers on our doorstep. Yesterday, we had no paper. Today, we had two, and while I usually take this sort of thing in stride, I was a wee bit pissed off because the front page story on yesterday's FT was the first face-to-face interview with Mikhail Khodorkovsky since 2003.

Khodorkovsky was in court on a hearing related to new fraud and embezzlement charges levied against him, and he spoke with the FT's reporter during a break. You can read the transcript of the interview here. I have to say, I don't really know what to make of the entire situation. Khodorkovsky is currently on a hunger strike, to protest the treatment of one of his former Yukos' vice presidents, who was being offered treatment for some medical problems in return for falsifying testimony against Khodorkovsky. The former Yukos vice president refused, and so Khodorkovsky decided to starve himself to try and get his vice president admitted to a Moscow hospital for treatment. So, for someone who has put himself up as a martyr for democracy, and is currently starving himself so that a fellow prisoner (and friend) can get medical treatment, I kind of expected more vitriol against Putin and his hand picked successor, Dmitry Medvedev. Not so.

FT: Do you think Medvedev believes in the rule of law? When he becomes president is some kind of change possible?

MK: It’s very difficult for me to predict, because it will be so difficult for him. I can’t even imagine. Honestly speaking, if you asked me how to get Russia out of this situation, I would be utterly lost. Tradition, and the state of people’s minds, and the lack of forces able to [support] any movement towards the rule of law, everything’s against him. So…may God grant him the strength to do it. All we can do is hope.”

But that's not the only curious answer Khodorkovsky gave:

FT: Some people say fear is returning to Russia, that things could go back to the Soviet eraÂ…

MK: I hope that that wonÂ’t happen. We need to be ready for the bestÂ…I donÂ’t think it will happen. People can leave freely, the internet works. ItÂ’s just not possible.

FT: But the Federation Council will examine a law on internet this week?

MK: ThatÂ’s just not possible. Everyone clearly understands that innovation is important, we wonÂ’t be able to survive without innovative technology.

FT: But does the government understand that?

MK: The government understands it very well. Even the oil industry canÂ’t work properly without innovation. There can be situations where itÂ’s very difficult to develop an oil well. Without innovation you canÂ’t do it.{...}

Naive? I don't think anyone in their right mind could claim that Khodorkovsky, of all people, is naive. That's just not a possiblity. Beaten down to the point where all he has is hope to cling to? Perhaps. Not in his right mind because he hasn't eaten in ten days? Well within the realm of possibilities. Trying to play the game Putin's way, and is putting out the message that he's finally gotten with the program in the hopes that the establishment will ease up on him? Again, well within the realm of possibilities. I don't really know. It's all very curious. Very, very curious.

But I have to say, what I was really hoping for was some enlightening commentary on this issue:

FT: WhatÂ’s your attitude to the auctions of Yukos assets that took place last year?

MK: I reacted to all that fairly calmly. Because I used up all my nerves in 2004, when a company that was working well was seized and handed over to Rosneft. Rosneft today is basically Yukos with a bit added on. To a large extent, itÂ’s the same people. The production capacity is 75 per cent the same. Rosneft is Yukos after three years of peredelok.

What the hell? His former company headquarters sells for almost $4B US to an unknown entity, when everyone claimed it wasn't worth more than $300M, and all he's got to say about it is that he reacted fairly calmly to it? Sheesh. It's not like I expected all that much, but come on! This is Russia, for chrissakes! Ate least wrap your answer up in an enigma that will leave me wondering for days, bub. Get with the program, eh?

Go read the whole thing. The answers may not be all that enlightening, but if you read between the lines, well, perhaps you might get your Russian Grandmaster political jones satisfied.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:53 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I lit a fire last night.

Our choice of kindling is the leftover Financial Times we have lying around the house. The FT usually puts out a lot of supplements, covering things like digital business to, as was recently the case, the World Economic Forum at Davos. Last night, I pulled out that supplement to get the fire going, and how sweet it was because guess who was on the cover?

Yes, you guessed right: it was Al Gore.

How sweet it was to set Al Gore on fire. I relished every moment that section of the paper burnt, spreading his warmth and light to the logs. I watched as he turned to ash and scattered under the grate. It was brilliant and satisfying in a way that really isn't a normal part of my day.

The Goricle: Helping Boost Carbon Emissions at the Cake Eater Pad since 2008!

Posted by: Kathy at 11:06 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Thank God the husband no longer plays World of Warcraft.

You're probably thinking that he quit because I was having trouble with all the time he spent playing. Nope. If he wants to play MMORPG's, I don't really have an issue with it, so long as he's not spending every waking hour on the damn computer either playing or dealing with "guild business." It's fun for him. While I don't get it and never really will, it's not for me to judge. And, as I've mentioned before, anything that leaves me with sole control over the tee vee is a good thing.

No, the reason I'm glad he's not playing WoW anymore is because of crap like this.

Now, the husband would never want this bit o' machinery in the first place, mainly because he likes to build his own gaming rigs. But, I'm glad he quit playing because I don't want him associating with people who would buy this sort of thing.

Embracing your inner geek is one thing; slapping down your credit card to buy a World of Warcraft Edition Dell Laptop is entirely another.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:02 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 Coming soon to a gamer with boundary issues near you: http://www.ageofconan.com/ "Time enough for sleep in the grave."

Posted by: MRN aka "The Husband" at February 07, 2008 11:58 AM (6r15q)

2 Back in MY day, it was BCGs and pocket protectors that announced your Everlovin' Geekishness to the masses. Huh.

Posted by: Margi at February 07, 2008 03:44 PM (IYBY1)

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In a move that was undoubtedly meant to boost his career skin cancer awareness, Eric Dane, who apparently is on Grey's Anatomy has gone public about his "battle" with skin cancer.

For actor Eric Dane, the first sign that something was wrong came right after the new year, when the Grey's Anatomy star glanced in the mirror and saw what looked like chapped lips but clearly wasnÂ’t.

“I went to my dermatologist,” Eric reveals in an exclusive interview in the new issue of OK!. But the last thing the 35-year-old expected was to be diagnosed with skin cancer. “He said it was malignant tissue caused by sun damage."

The malignancy was treated by freezing the cancerous tissue off with liquid nitrogen. Unfortunately for Eric, the actor had a severe reaction to a cream given to him for his lip after the treatment . “My skin is very sensitive," the actor most famous for playing Dr. Mark "McSteamy" Sloan, explains to OK!, "and my lip was traumatized by the procedure I had to go through.”

His lip’s overreaction to the medication created a painful scenario that made eating difficult, if not impossible. “I didn’t eat very well for a couple of weeks and lost a bunch of weight,” Eric explains, estimating that he dropped at least 10 pounds off his 6'1" frame while dealing with his cancer.{...}

MAN UP for chrissakes. Ditch the dermatologist, get some cherry Chapstick and soldier on!

While I'm glad they caught it in time (and, snark aside, I genuinely mean that), I nevertheless have no desire to hear about how sensitive his lips are and how he couldn't eat for a week because of an allergic reaction to therapeutic lip cream. I mean, he's not exactly doing cancer awareness a favor with this little tale of woe, is he? Wooh. Malignant lips and rampaging lip balm are not exactly the stuff of high drama, are they? Are you ready to whip out your checkbook and write a hefty check to a skin cancer research foundation because McWhomever decided to go public with his touching story?

I didn't think so.

I really wish that celebrities would have enough presence of mind to know that, sometimes, their desire to raise awareness just isn't a welcome thing. Of course, however, that presumes he went into the interview with only the best and most noble of intentions.

Which I highly doubt.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:33 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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They don't use the intercom much at the hospital where I volunteer. Usually it's the last resort to round up stray doctors (or, sometimes, patients), but even though it probably has nothing to do with you, and likely never will, you have to listen to it anyway, because if there's a code, even lowly volunteers have to know what each code means and what's entailed. You know, in case the hospital catches on fire or something equally unlikely.

This morning was no different in the rounding up of a stray doctor. But the details are where the difference was made. Overheard around ten a.m.

"Available OB to Room 222. Stat."

Three minutes later, the same voice and message appeared. The difference was in the delivery.

Available OB to Room 222. STAT."

Two minutes later, another announcement came booming through the loudspeakers:

STAT! ANY AVAILABLE OB TO ROOM 222! STAT!"

Shortly thereafter the familiar, light, cheerful chimes rang throughout the hospital, on, of course, the intercom system.

Room 222 is located in the maternity wing and the chimes ring whenever a baby is born.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:57 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Without further ado...

1. I suspect I am not the only person who is relatively up on political things, yet who has absolutely no interest in watching the Super Tuesday returns.

Just. Don't. Care. And you can't make me.

2. Three-quarter-length sleeves drive me up the goddamn wall.

I bought a couple of what I thought were long sleeved tee shirts at Le Boutique de La Target a couple of weeks ago, and when they turned out to be three-quarter-length, I was pissed off, but hell, I should have looked more closely instead of just grabbing a few off the pile and heading for the checkout counter. I mean, honestly, it's just a tee shirt---this shouldn't be that difficult of a purchase. Yeah, I know. Caveat emptor and all that, yadda, yadda, yadda. Whatever. I'm still going to whine about them.

While the shirts nicely enhance my (fabulous) rack, they, however, neither keep my forearms warm, nor do they allow me to escape the hot flashes I still have on occasion (and have more frequently when I'm at the hospital because that place is broiling hot.). Besides, they just feel funky. Like you washed a shirt in hot water and the sleeves shrunk. They're the shirt equivalent of floods.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:41 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Alcatraz: Future Home of Global Peace. Or at least that's what some hippy drippy trippy idiot would have it become.

San Francisco voters will decide on Tuesday whether to remove the famous Alcatraz Prison visited by thousands of tourists a day and instead create a "global peace center."

The proposition sharing the presidential primary ballot comes from the director of the California-based Global Peace Foundation who gives his name as Da Vid. He says transforming Alcatraz will "liberate energies, raising the whole consciousness of the Bay Area."

Supporters would like to raze the prison and build a medicine wheel, a labyrinth and a conference center for non-violent conflict resolution. Volunteers collected 10,350 voter signatures last year to put it on the local ballot.

But even in a city long famed for its embrace of counterculture, many are skeptical about he plan.

"Perhaps we haven't reached the proper stage of enlightenment yet, but we're more inclined to support propositions with defined sources of funding attached to them," the San Francisco Chronicle said in an editorial.{...}

I went on a tour of Alcatraz a few years back, when the husband and I visited San Francisco. It was one of those guided tours, where you wear headphones and listen to certain tracks as you visit different places within the facility, and one of the parts that struck me was when former prisoners reminisced about their experience and said that when the wind came across the bay from Oakland and San Francisco, they became miserable and depressed because they could hear the life they were missing out on. The sounds of traffic carried, but so did the sounds of laughter and conversation. One can only hope that, if such a place were to be built on Alcatraz, the wind would carry the sounds of guitar strumming, Kumbaya singing hippies to the residents of those fair cities---and perhaps, just perhaps, they'd get so annoyed they'd ditch their dippy hippy ways and would get with the freakin' program already.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:27 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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One of the better Super Bowl Ads from yesterday. I was kind of disappointed in them as a whole, but this one fit the bill quite nicely.

The shape of Stewie's head really does give him the blocking advantage. He had some pretty sweet moves.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:09 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...or so Whitney Houston warbled all those years ago. Yeah right.

{...}Authorities said that a 17-year-old girl in a hot-pink sweatshirt approached Smith outside of a Winn-Dixie supermarket at Hypoluxo and Jog roads in Boynton Beach Wednesday evening and asked the girl what her favorite cookies were. Police told WPBF that, while Smith was telling the teen about her favorite Cinna-Spins, the teen snatched an envelope containing about $167 off of Smith's table, hopped into another teen's car and drove away.
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Smith told WPBF that she turned to her mother in tears, saying, "Mommy! That girl took all my money!"

Authorities said they caught up with the 17-year-old girl Thursday and pulled her out of class at Park Vista High School, where she allegedly confessed to the crime, WPBF reported. Investigators said the girl's female accomplice, another a Park Vista student, also confessed.

The Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office said that the case has been handed over to the State Attorney's Office to determine if charges will be filed against the teens.

Smith's mother, Charlene Rubenstrunk, told WPBF that the girls returned to the store Thursday to taunt her daughter.

"They are within 10 feet of the same kid they just robbed last night and there is nothing anybody can do about it. I find that offensive," Rubenstrunk said.

The girls, whose names are not being released because they are minors, told WPBF that they were not remorseful for the crime, and that they did it because they "needed money."

"We went through all that effort to get it, we got all these charges and we had to give the money back. I'm kind of pissed," one of the girls told WPBF.

The other girl told WPBF that she was upset because police found them.

"I'm not sorry, I'm just pissed that I got caught," the girl said."

You think that's offensive? Check out the video. Pretty much the same as the article, but chock-a-block full of attitude.

I thought it was bad enough that they'd said what they did, but the way they said it, the way they apparently thought it was cool to be on tee vee is even more offensive.

You needed money, so the best way to go about that is to steal from a freakin' girl scout? What the hell?

You know, since I don't have kids, I generally refrain from telling parents how to raise their offspring. But if either of those girls was my kid, well, I'd take a strap to them. Then, when they're incapable of sitting for a few days, I'd let the police arrest them and throw their worthless asses into jail for a few days without bailing them out. Then I'd make them volunteer in a homeless shelter for about a year. To show them what it's really like to need money.

But, I don't have kids, so what do I know?

{Ht: Laura W. over at Ace.}

UPDATE: I just showed this to the husband and his question was, "Do we have someplace to throw little whores like that other than Vegas?"

Posted by: Kathy at 12:01 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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