A song, a space heater and a bottle of sparkling wine...

Dumbing down?

I had entertained the idea of Twitter before, albeit briefly, as if it were some crazy far off thing to do, but now I wonder if it is simply the natural progression, as blogs died off, the consequence of people switching to Facebook to write short posts, or to share inspirational quotes or stupid memes, and then ultimately fake news, subsequently heading to Twitter to say something quicker and perhaps snarkier, from behind the gilded case of their Iphone. As blog posts became shorter and shorter, or simply became the sharing of a video here and there, and it became increasingly difficult to formulate a complete thought, let alone write it down and elaborate upon it, was this the point to which we digressed? 

I don't know. I just don't know.

Dear "Blogger"...

I think Blogger should hire someone, because a "bot" "can" make mistakes, to go to, find, and remove to a trash receptacle, and subsequently delete, all the bogus "blogs" out there, making use of the "blogspot.com" addresses. The "I am not a robot." they added for commenting on posts clearly does not help any longer, so the only solution would be having a human to do so. 

Oh.... and the concept of "bots"? I don't really need to have 100 visitors from Russia all because some stupid "bot" saw the word "boobs" somewhere on my blog and chose to link to it. I think that is how it works anyway. End rant. 

(Yes, apparently I do have too much time on my hands at present.)

Life hacks...

You see them quite often... these "life hack" videos... Well, my life hack? Sanitary pads. I had a box of gauze and box of the three inch tape on hand when I started. I had had the lower leg and thigh staples taken out the required time after surgery, and less than a week later, there was seepage on the bottom and leakage on the top. I am so glad that I had the gauze and tape on hand from years and years ago, but I soon had to buy three more boxes of gauze pads. Turns out they don't make gauze pads all the same, or of the same thickness and absorbency...  Sigh... 

So... what does a peri-menopausal or menopausal chick do? Well... check what else is on hand of course...  Sanitary pads of all shapes and sizes is what was to be had. Hmmm... can I use this? Can I cut this one and use both? Will this cover the leg wounds where needed? I used tape on each side, which worked well, but what I found is that the mini-pads were the perfect width and length... and... I could use one whole piece of the three inch gauze tape to cover the part of the pad that needed to be held in place. Sanitary, super-absorbent, sticky = perfect. I wish I had thought of it that third week. 

I am now just past my five week anniversary of surgery, and there is still some slight leakage and weeping of both a little blood and fluid, but the swelling on the foot and leg is down to almost nothing. Almost. I DID go out and walk to the store and back on my own this past week, which was wobbly, but still...  Feeling more steady as I go.

The funny thing is that I tend to have overlooked the fact that I had open heart surgery. The leg has been more troublesome. This may however be due to the fact that prior to this surgery, I walked everywhere, and that has had a huge impact on me during this time, not being able to just get out and walk anywhere. That of course, and not being able to fit my swollen foot into shoes or boots. 

Oh... and soon I will have to figure out what I am going to do with my life. Again.

I turned fifty this year. Yay me!

But...

... I still get up. (Even if only to feel tired and sit in a chair for most of the day. I think I am going to test myself again today.)

Whatever...

I realize that it is a little too late in life to have something "normal", and besides, it wasn't something I was looking for in the first place. I suppose that having a touch of normal would have been nice at some point, but here I sit in the quiet, cold, still aloneness, as I have for so many years before, absorbing the meaningless nature of it all...

The artistry of spilled milk...

I had poured the milk and was putting it back in the fridge when it started to slip. I saw it fall from my hands and head towards the floor in slow motion. I could see a small puddle form just as I swooped down to grab the carton, only to realize that “You’re not supposed to bend down like that after heart surgery stupid.” Miraculously, the carton was still pretty much closed. I noticed afterwards that more milk had been spilled than had been previously noted, as I saw it in three other spots, as well as on the grate at the bottom of the fridge. I had quickly thrown down pieces of paper towel on it and in the nooks and crannies, until I could get back to it for proper cleaning. Needless to say, I waited until almost the end of the day to complete that task, which for whatever reason seemed to be much more arduous than it was.

Frankensteined...

I have metal staples from ankle to groin on my left leg. I have metal staples on the chest bone. I have a few stitches on my rib-cage. Apparently they also took a vein from the mammary area. Surgery was two weeks ago Friday. I came home a week later. I had run some errands with assistance the day of and the day after, but none since then. I have not yet been able to walk outside. In the house I hobble around and do my physio exercises in the warmth of the laundry room sunshine. I showered at the hospital, on my own, with the leg completely wrapped up in black garbage bags and taped snugly, along with the IV on the right wrist wrapped with plastic as well. I have not showered at home yet as I have not regained my balance sufficiently to do so, but that is the Thursday night task. 

On an interesting side-note, surgery was typically three to four, perhaps six hours... I went under at 1pm and everything was a complete black void until I heard a voice saying "It is 11pm, you should wake up..." Having been on extra pain medication for the first couple days and a diuretic for the duration, I was pretty much up less than every hour, the walking dead, head tilted to the left, eyes glazed over, using the walker without thought nor care except to get to where I needed to go and back. I felt bad for the nurses on duty who had to unhook me... every single time... I had to get up... ten times the first night... and more the next day... I did appreciate the fact that things hit me considerably harder than most of the patients. I could hear and see everything, even though my eyes were closed and it looked as though I was sleeping. 

Although I had time to attend pre-admission clinics, read the material, practice what I could do and not do, I was woefully unprepared. Any questions asked were the ones most ignored, during, before and after, and the ones which would have made recovery a bit less strained. Ah well, c'est la vie... My hope was, and is, that I may feel less tired than I had before, and that perhaps I will feel more alive as time goes on.

(Quadruple coronary artery bypass surgery)

The only telling sign...

... is how both mentally and physically tired I am with no exertion whatsoever.

And then I realize the day...

"It's the little things that kill 
Tearing at my brains again"
                                                      -Bush

My great big fat summer vacation...

In a couple weeks I get to have my chest-bone sawed apart and my heart opened up and fiddled around with. This is a wee bit more worrisome than having had my eye sliced open and fluid sucked out. Even though I was awake for that.

Such is the nature of conversations...

"I ask you a question for which your response allows me a glimpse into your personality."

I do...

I want to write. I feel like I have things to say. I just can't seem to formulate any coherent thoughts.

One... on one...

Mesmerizing fluidity...

Pursuit (4K, 8K) from Mike Olbinski on Vimeo.

Shivers down my spine?

I swear there is no breeze... no wind.. no one there... but the cymbal moved as if someone brushed past it.

LIfe after 50...

Just over two months ago I turned 50. In celebration of this fact, I had yet another scan, an ultrasound, a sleep apnea test (which I knew it wasn't, but they had to rule it out), more bloodwork and an angiogram. Next up? Heart Bypass Surgery. Five blockages, two of which are 100%. The damage has been done, and there was no point in just doing stents. So after almost a year of all these tests, this is the outcome. When asked a somewhat odd question by a friend, I responded with "Not too keen about it, but the other option would be death, so not really much else one can do."

So this shall be my summer vacation.

All I can say is... so much for not smoking or drinking all my life and for being active through most of it.

Wherever I may roam...

It got a little sweaty out there today, working in the yard in the morning and then this evening, as well as the walk to the office and home. I was running out of clothes to unsweatify in, so went to look for something comfortable to slip into. The other day, I had pulled a storage box from the closet which had summer clothes in it, so went to see what I could grab from there. Peeking out from a ziploc bag? Concert t-shirt... Metallica... I recall it was May... but what year? Turns out it was 1992... 25 years and 5 days ago... Crazy.... doesn't seem that long ago, but also seems like a lifetime... I had cut the sleeves off when I first got it, but the fabric is in great shape. Perfect.

Lights go out...

...one by one...
the voices once so strong...
lost forever in the howling wind...

Bring this beauty to life...

I would love to have a copy, but sadly cannot afford it at this time.

Please support the creation of this beautiful book here.  

Ram...D10

Day 10

 

I find myself firmly planted in a place called home and I feel completely lost... yet again...  Against my better judgment, I am spending money I do not have, on a Passport, in order that I may go on a trip I cannot afford, to a destination I know not where.

From a favourite 10 cent comic book...

to this...

There seems to be an entire generation of females lamenting the fact that there were and are no positive role models for girls. Sorry, but I got mine from 10 cent comic books and books I read. In looking back, Wonder Woman and Mlle Marie were the two that stand out from my childhood. It is rather funny that in the past I did not think that I actually had any role models. I did not even realize until now, in my 50th year, that these comic book characters were pretty much it. As a teenager, of the sci-fi/fantasy books I read, it is the ones with female characters as the protagonist that made the most impact. The other funny thing? I didn't want to look like them or emulate them. It was the content of their character.

Ram... D9

Day 9

I discovered late yesterday that although I had been doing Sudoku puzzles - "evil" -  almost every day for at least four or five years, I had no clue... whatsoever... how to do them anymore... at all... and it has only been just over two months now that I stopped. 

11:11...

... starting to happen again...
... as well as the penny showing up in the middle of the table...

One Hela Movie...

Little kid kinda excitement ...
 

Ram... D8

Day 8

I had it wrong. I am going to have a MPI, not MBI. Myocardial Perfusion Imaging is what it is. I hadn't looked at the full name on the sheet. Radioactive dye for the third time in eighteen years. I just realized that now. Interesting tidbit.

A half century?

That is some sort of milestone?  I suppose I shall celebrate... by going to bed ridiculously early, because I am ridiculously tired. 

A grievous transgression...

... usually punishable by death...

I had walked back into my bedroom and saw him on the bed. I am not sure where he had come from nor where he was going, but I take it that he had not received the memo. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and looked around for something with which to usher him out of the room. There did not seem to be anything handy, so I picked up a small decorative footed bowl which I hoped would be sufficient. Well... he went in willingly, however I got less than halfway down the hallway and he escaped, to I know not where. 

It has been clearly stated... you can be in the house trusting that you fulfill your duties, however you cannot be anywhere near or on my bed, Mr. Spider.

The hilarity of life...

So much for my attempt to restart blogging on a regular basis. My laptop, showing significant signs of its own downward spiral, finally completely gave out. Hence, not much interest in typing blogposts on the backup tablet. Even though I have a bluetooth keyboard, it just doesn't feel quite right, to me as a typist. (Although I am getting more used to it as I spend more time with the small layout.)

And on a similar and hilarious note, after the laptop died, later that day I figured that I might as well rely on the old technology that I still had available... my old Toshiba VCR which I have probably had for over ten years. Enjoying Silverado (man Kevin Costner was young), and the great ensemble cast, when suddenly there was static and the machine shut off by itself. I checked everything out and found that it had eaten part of the tape. I carefully pulled it out, and rewound it on the spool, then foolishly tried unplugging the VCR and trying it again, once with the same tape and one more time with a different one. Wishful thinking I suppose, as the outcome was the same. The prognosis final. The VCR had died, the very same day as the laptop.

March marched in and the hilarity of life ensued. The microwave started making an odd overworked louder whirring sound. The liquid was cold. I tried it a few times. I even foolhardily unplugged and plugged back in. I knew it wouldn't work, but I just had to try it. All I can say is that all the appliances were bought at the same time, almost fifteen years ago, so I knew this time would come. I just wasn't really expecting time to pass this quickly.

Ram... D7

Day 7

Technically not a "Random thing about me", but whatever. It seems appropriate that Day 7 coincides with me forgetting  to post about my 7th Blogiversary, which was on March 7, which just happens to have been 7 days ago.  It is hard to believe I am still around here. The past seven years have been perhaps the most worrisome thusfar in my almost half century of life.

Ram... D6

Day 6

I may have lost the ability to write. Whatever creative facility I may have once had seems to be completely gone.

Ram... D5

Day 5

...and on that note... I will be turning 50 this month and will be celebrating the occasion sandwiched between a CT scan and MIBI scan.

Ram... D4

Day 4

Passport expires in April. Still haven't gone anywhere. It is looking pretty bleak for that last minute trip to anywhere. Wherever that may be. Feeling sad.

Ram... D3

Day 3

I cannot blog from a tablet. (At least not on any regular basis.)

(On a related note, my laptop and VCR died the same day.)

Ram... D2

Day 2

I never dreamed about being anything or going anywhere.

(Ram = Random things about me)

Random things about me...

Day 1

I have the patience of Internet Explorer.

(I had the thought of doing this as a list of ten items, but could barely come up with three off the top of my head, so I figured that doing this as a random daily post instead will force me to come up with something as well as to post on a regular basis.)

Imagine if...

.. every celebrity with enough power or financial status found such a worthwhile cause that so moved them to take action...

Burn your burkha

 

There should be a "Burn your burkha for Farkhunda" Day.

 

Burn your hijab, niqab, chador or whatever else the f*** there is... for Farkhunda.

 

No, I'm not a hater. I have no religious affiliations. I am not an atheist.

 

Whether it be a hijab, niqab or burkha... burn it... publicly... and stop wearing them. I can guarantee you that there are countries that women just could not do it. Not for fear of death, but because if would BE death. Women who have moved abroad... you had the ability to MOVE abroad in the first place. But it is a sign of modesty, or religious faith you argue? Right... so you cover your head or body as a sign of modesty, yet you wear makeup... eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, eyebrow pencil, you name it... To that I say... I am one hundred percent certain that she was more faithful to her religion than you OR the men (and I use that term loosely) who stoned, stomped, murdered and burned her.

 

Yes, I'm a little late to this party, and I've been thinking about it for a while. What to say, whether or not I should say anything. But you know what? The thing is I... me... little old me... I CAN say something from this little corner of the internet.

 

Disclaimer: There is a hint of sarcasm to this post. It is directed to women in "westernized" nations. Please don't if your life is truly at risk.

Twitter?

What the hell is the world coming to. Seriously. I actually entertained the idea of joining Twitter, for the sole purpose of giving advice to the Trump Administration. Which is worse, that the President of the United States AND his Press Secretary are on Twitter, or that I actually considered it?

Today...

Tis hard to explain...

... isn't it? The only way I could think of saying it before was that I'd lost my way. Well, I did lose my way, many years ago, and I suppose I am still lost, but now it is just... different. Now what comes to mind is that my light has gone out. It is no longer that I just can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, but more akin to the movie "Pitch Black" with Vin Diesel battling these nocturnal nightmarish creatures that are only kept at bay where there is light. Only here, there is no darkness, no creatures, but rather a void... filled with ringing... just ringing. A quiet, constant ringing in the ears to keep me company when there is nothing else.

Happy New Year...

[insert inspirational words here]