Friday, November 30, 2007


The cape is done, I did the hand sewing this morning watching the news and The Price is Right. Drew is not Bob, but I likes him! Obviously my hands did not hurt this morning. They hurt now so this will be brief. Mrs. Bucky is wearing the cape, she looks fabulous. I guess being bone thin does that for a person. I will post pics to Tribe for sure and here if I figure it out. Not tonight, I have SGA to watch and sacking out to do.

I have the paper pattern cut, I hope to make adjustments for the dress and get the fabric cut for it. I have ordered a crinoline to wear with it; my six hoop skirt is simply too unmanageable.

I have my referral, the letter should be here in a week or so. The AF doc said I'd done all the "other" stuff, injections, PT and so seeing a specialist was not unreasonable.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Cherry Cordial

I still think "Cherry Cordial" is a good stripper name.

The nap attack happened, I slept for three hours this afternoon. That's a loooong daytime nap for me. My brother called to borrow the Trailblazer, so I got up and got dressed. I decided to sew and tackled the capelet I had cut out for the Mrs. Santa suit.

Panne velvet is drapey, stretchy, lightweight fabric which likes to curl up on the edges and cling to itself. Not the easiest stuff to work with. I am using a cherry red panne velvet for the Mrs. Claus dress and shoulder cape. I am not making the apron and ruffles version. Santa Rampage in Las Vegas calls for a dressier Santa Mate rather than a sugar and spice granny. The cape is lined, I'm using a pale pink. White would make me look as pale as a zombie. Or zamboni. I think maybe I should have gone with red after all, but what I had on hand clashed with the tone of the velvet.

Fortunately I have learned to doublecheck my pinning before stitching, and indeed I had pinned the cape and lining together backwards. So I fixed that. Then the sewing did not flow smoothly, I am not used to curved seams. I got through it anyway. I did a lot of topstitching which was not in the directions, but looks nicer. The hood was a booger to do, the tucks were not as big as they needed to be, and more curved seams. My slip-stitching looked like whipstitches, I pulled it out and did it once more, now it looks presentable. I still have to add a white frog at the throat, and the white fur trim around the bottom and the hood.

With the cherry red velvet, pink lining and white fur, I am going to look like a cherry cordial, not the liqueur, but one of those awful cream-filled cherry chocolates they sell by the box in drugstores. I'd rather be a dark chocolate cherry cordial, the kind with the booze-soaked cherry from Germany. Oh. Yeah. Or even the boozeless version from Sees. No creepy, seepy "creme" in those! Yum! Hope I will look yummy, but I know I will just end up lumpy and squat as usual.

Little Magic Pill

My brother ran me out to base this morning; I picked up prescriptions. I'm off Mobic and on Celebrex. I've taken this before, it worked well, but I was pulled off it during the Vioxx flap, about the time I started the Tamoxifen. Mobic isn't working at all anymore, so I hope the celebrex is worth taking the blood-clot risks with the anti-estroegn drug. We shall see.

I have an appointment tomorrow so my PCM can evaluate me for a referral. If he thinks I'm not bad enough to see a specialist, I'll sic my oncologist on him. She wants to refer me, but she can't,it has to go through base. Still, she's formidable, I'd hate to be on the receiving end of a pissed off phone call from her. I wonder how the "pain management" talk will go. I don't often have the major, overall pain like I did yesterday, but if I slip up and consume the wrong food, then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'd like a bottle of ton o' brick pain reliever just in case. A small bottle at that, a dozen would last a whole year. But this is an Air Force doctor and they're notoriously bad at giving pain killers. Unless it is post-op, they hand out the opiates like candy post-op.

The joints are better today but I'm exhausted. I didn't think the pain had that much draining effect. It does. I did get minimal stuff done yesterday, although taking apart the coffee maker took some time. Even got all the stained glass and sun-catchers down so I can put up lights in the picture window. I want to sew today, and may be hit the scifi forums later. Sound Advice week and I'm slacking. I'm cranky though, and may just nap, many naps, big naps, micro naps, I can have as many naps as I like.

I also got a flu shot today. It itches. It itches a lot. And I feel ooky and headachy, but that's normal for me after a flu shot. Pfeh!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Early Morning Pity Party

Last night I grabbed a couple burritos from the freezer, slapped the roasted chilipotle raspberry sauce on them and chowed down before NCIS and DWS came on. I wanted hot food fast, and nothing else seemed good. Woe is me. One of them was a bean and cheese burrito, I didn't notice until I was more than halfway into it. I finished it anyway, how bad could it be? Bad, very bad, that's how bad. My hands begin to hurt right around ten and grew increasingly painful. Then my left hip pitched in, no position was comfortable. That spot between my shoulder blades began to throb, eventually it felt like there was something lodged in the bones. I got up and hunted up my left-over Lortab. That is not a fast-acting drug. I sat at the computer and played Solitaire with music on. I was edgy and restless and couldn't sleep even though I was terrifically drowsy. When the music began to buzz at me and hurt my ears no matter the volume, I went back to bed. I did doze off, with a cat on each side, but as usual, Oide got up and prowled Mylarry's bedside table, patting the humidifier. That cat has never touched the water from that thing, but he still tries all the time. Then he came back and bothered Harry until both cats were wrestling and jumping on the bed. Grrr. That was at three. And I was semi-conscious at five and then slept until just after seven. That was all I could stand. Now I still have pain in my hands this morning and a headache. I am pissed, can't I have more than one good day? And I still have not heard from the clinic nurse, I am tremendously annoyed with the base medical staff at this moment. You get what you pay for, I guess. This no airy thing is a pain, or conversely, dairy is a real pain. A literal pain, true pain, pain which is teaching me caution. I was hoping I could eat all the tiny tubs of yogurt I have on hand but no, I don't dare. And Larry doesn't like them much, he has become lactose intolerant. Dammit.

The cherry on the cake, this morning I found my wonderful new programmable coffee maker was dead. I got it apart, thinking a fuse had blown, but I can't see any fuses. I did see what looks to be a fried diode, the circuit board under it is crispy. No doubt that's the culprit. The question then is, can we find the right replacement diode? I know either of us can install it, that's what we did for an age and a day in Uncle Sam's Canoe Club. But if the diode fried, what did it take with it? The lights did blink last night, not enough to lose power or reset any electronics, but perhaps enough to kill the brewster. DAMMIT! Do Not mess with my morning joe!

Larry is in Colorado, post-Costco store delivery, although he may be on his way back by now. He has to stop to retrieve his chains and binders (load chains not snow chains) from a truckstop where a lady stored them for him. Something about weight and permits and divisible loads. Much bother and I'm glad I stayed home.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Go Soak Your ... Head

Another random remark, another memory.

We were camping up in the mountains with the Rising Sons, the Japanese-American Harley group MyLarry rode with. Except they knew him as Howard because "Larry" just doesn't work in Japanese phonetics. We'd taken the van (long story) instead of my bike (longer story), so I was already a bit miffed. The weather was less than ideal and the tent sites were on platforms on the side of an extremely steep and muddy hillside. Knowing that Larry couldn't eat standard fare because of the nightshade thing (I was still okay), we'd brought our own eats. There had already been drama between our Shiba-ken and the Siberian Husky, and Larry "acquiring" a log footbridge, and so on. Then they sent some poor sap to our tent to collect the Y7,500 for the trip. I went over the edge. This was supposed to be Larry's farewell, and we weren't eating in the community kitchen, although I was perfectly willing to pitch in for the camp fees. I ponied up, grumbling. I knew the boys would be glad to see me go, I was not a docile wife. Their girlfriends were learning far too many bad habits from me, beginning with independence. The Sons saved the situation be gifting the money back to Larry at the bonfire later that evening. Riiiight.

The next morning, we got to use the hot springs. Sometimes these are co-ed, but this one was segregated. I went in and bathed in the shower area indoors, lovely pebbled floor and cedar bath stools and mats. The soaking pool was outdoors, it was crafted to look like it was surrounded by natural boulders and wild bamboo stands. You can bet every rock and leaf and pebble was carefully and artfully placed. Nature in Japan bows to the will of the artist.

There were two women in the pool, a mother and daughter I think. They were laughing and sitting on the jacuzzi jets along the inside edge of the pool. Riiiight. I sat along the boulders and closed my eyes. A light, cold rain was falling, but I was up to my neck in extremely hot water so I didn't care. Soon the ladies left and I had the place to myself. The view was stunning, the pool was on the side of a steep hill overlooking the valley. The pine trees were dark against the white fog, I knew there was a river in the bottom but I couldn't see it. The mountains and hills went up into the clouds, even though I knew they weren't all that tall, they seemed to go up forever. Absolutely gorgeous.

And yes, I tried out the jacuzzi jets, and yes, they made me giggle. No, of course I was not wearing a suit and did you even have to ask?

I miss my Japanese tub, as small and cramped as it was, I could soak like I did in the hot spring. I miss Japan a lot, although so much must have changed, a lot of things must be the same. The community family-style onsen are almost all gone. I'm sure the famous resort-style Roten-buro are still around and will be for a very long time.

I have so got to get a hot tub or sauna. No gazebo for me, I like the snow in my hair while soaking in the hot water.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Culinary 911

A random remark on the true false SGA thread brought up a memory of baking Christmas treats.

Now I am a fairly good and often adventurous cook, willing to jump right in there with new recipes. The military gave me that attention to detail schtick, so I usually turn out whatever I am trying to make given an intelligible recipe, plus the correct tools and ingredients.

When we lived in Yokosuka, we taught English to our house owner's nephew's children on Sunday afternoons. They served us beverages and snacks, we brought treats, eventually this grew into a weekly Sunday potluck dinner. Larry even got the husband interested in cooking because "all the great chefs are men." The very next week he had a green tea sponge cake prepared; he'd bought new pans and mixing bowls just for his creation. We thought that was great, his wife was happy he had even cleaned up the kitchen afterward.

We were invited to a Christmas party the kids were having, they were teens by this time. I made a star cookie tree. You make a series of star-shaped sugar cookies from very large to very small. Each cookie was iced with hard poured icing. Basically you boil the icing, tint it, and pour it over the cookies on a rack. The icing hardens as it cools leaving a beautiful smooth surface. Then you stack the cookies and decorate the tree with candies and gumdrops and piped icing. I had a star on top and birthday candles on every "branch." It was a lovely cake! One of the fanciest things I'd done to date, and all in my tiny Japanese oven. The oven was really a fish broiler, don't tell anyone. I had to bake the larger cookies one at a time, and made enough I had leftovers.

The party rolled on with drinks and games and gifts. The it was time to cut the cake, or at least present it and break it into edible chunks. We dimmed the lights. We lit the candles. It was lovely. The sugar icing caught fire and the whole thing went up in a spectacular blaze. Good thing most Japanese kitchens have a fire extinguisher or the entire house could have gone up! Larry got it put out quickly, and then we could laugh. I did cry a little bit later, but I still had a plate of lovely, tasty very flammable cookies to share.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

T-Day weekend Half-Time

Well, Saturday afternoon and mylarry is napping. No steel loads, so no work. Ah well, he's taken me shopping twice.

Turkey Day morning I was depressed and a bit angry. I just didn't want to do the dinner with the SIL. So when mylarry got a call from one of his driver buddies needing help, I said go for it. He wanted to move his alfalfa bales from the barn of a supposed friend. The driver used to live in Tooele and moved down to Orem; his wife trains horses and then sells then, or trains them for people. They'd been renting pasture and barn space from a friend, and he'd agreed to let them store their bales until they could move them later. Then the guy turns around and says "Move it or lose it." Meaning he'd use it for his own animals. Mylarry hooked up the trailer, we headed south and remarkably caught up with the driver buddy on I-80 (see me? I have my headlights on, behind the UHP). Got off at Lakepoint and headed into Tooele (Too-willa, but we call it Tooly). We pulled in to the driveway and driver-buddy had to hunt the guy up; his vehicle was blocking the access to the bales. Uh-huh. He grumbled and moved his car-jeep thing. Larry and his bud and bud's wife heaved and hauled while I sat in the SUV and listened to music. The buck and the paint in the corral kept watching us, intently asking with big horse eyes is we going to feed them? We didn't. The yellow rooster was obnoxious. The bales got moved over a couple blocks to another pasture, eventually they'll have to move down to Orem. Tooele still has homes with an acre or so of horse pasture as the backyards. The one home with the barn has new subdivision houses on either side, I wonder how long before the neighboring families complain about the manure. There was plenty of it! And we now have a trailer full of premium alfalfa sitting in the trailer in the driveway (covered load) waiting for Desi to take it to Idaho for her horse and her mother's animals.

So we came home and still made it to T-day dinner. Jeremy made a Fuzzy Navel for me, he's quite good at it. The food was good; not what I'd make, but still fine. John gave me some acrylic paints, I think that's my Christmas gift. Mi-chan made a from scratch no-bake cheesecake, which I couldn't have anyway, but it was cute to hear Jeremy tell her, "This is delightful." Very adult and gentlmanly. I'm not used to him being 19!

Friday morning we got up, not too early, and hit a few sales. Larry wanted an extra 19.2 volt battery for his power tools. I wanted fabric for our Santa outfits, so we went to Jo-Ann fabrics. Oh my. We pulled a cutting table number early, and a good thing too, we were there nearly five hours. It was worth it because I really needed the panne velvets, and we scooped up some holographic clearance fabric, silver lame snakeskin and red silky spiderweb fabrics, faux fur trim, linings, and some flame fleece to make a truck blanket for him. We hung around with the Mormon Moms who were all scooping up the fleece and flannel for Christmas quilts. They'd look in our cart and ask, "What are you making?" "Costumes." "Oh, for plays?" "No, for Burning Man and for Santarchy." Some of them thought it was cute, some of them just edged away from us. Hehehe. It didn't feel like we waited that long, Larry was running around chatting and helping all the ladies whose husbands wouldn't be caught dead in a craft shop. When I hit the cutting table, he got in the checkout line; he was at the front of the line when I finished. Perfect. Now I have to sew an Elf Jacket for him, and a Mrs. Santa dress and cape for me, and maybe a Naughty Santa's Helper outfit too.

Today we went to the mall. There's a new store with nice things from India and Nepal; I got a Shiva for my Idols collection; and a black and silver skirt, larry got a new purple-striped shirt. Then into the main mall. I picked up red gloves for my costume, larry got fuses and an elf hat with jingle bells and elf ears on it. Looks cool with his beard. I wanted black leather biker gloves for my Farscape costume, but couldn't find any. Ended up with more body wash from B&BW. He's napping now, poor guy must be tired to sleep in the middle of the afternoon.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

LJ whine

Just move to the older post about laundry, far more entertaining. I posted on LJ about the Food Thing, a comprehensive list of what should not go into my mouth. Grrrrr. felt good to categorize it all, but it mad me angry with the design flaws of the human body. grrrr.

My Left Sock

So this thought has been bubbling and brewing ever since a remark was made on the SGA forum about the military being out of uniform. There's a long chain of thought that I'm not including here, but eventually my mind began wrapping around one concept. "Who does the laundry on Atlantis?"

I mean, did the Ancients leave a recognizable and functioning laundry facility behind? Would Earth fabrics be okay in it? And what do you use in the machines? Not quarters, surely. That's like every world speaking modern English ... oh wait, Nevermind.

I know how a ship's laundry works, and I'm assuming field laundries are similar. So that means everyone on Atlantis has their name stenciled in their underwear. No need for dogtags, just check the waistband of the Fruit of the Looms.

And if Earth sent along a fully operational laundry with washers and dryers and dry cleaning machines, what about the hook-ups? Where does the greywater go? Surely they wouldn't just dump it in the ocean; we should have learned that lesson the 20th century! And how much detergent do you need, and can you imagine the chaos if you ran out of fabric softener? All that would have to come from Earth, unless there was a trader in the Pegasus galaxy specializing in Downy and Cheer.

Atlantis is an all volunteer force, who volunteers to go to the Pegasus galaxy to do the wash? Here are Earth's brightest and best; the scientists, the researchers, the military. Adventurers, smart and sharp, and very, very busy. So who is the guy, or gal, probably plural, who attend to the laundry? How do you pick the best? Is it the person who never loses a left sock, never starches the underpants, never turns the T-shirts pink? Is there a reason the folks on Atlantis wear so much black? Not because it looks cool, but because it doesn't show dirt? And those sleek uniforms, are they wash and wear? Is there a mini uniform shop on Atlantis in case you lose your collar devices?

I shouldn't be allowed to think in a vacuum.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Back Home

I had completely forgotten how tiring truck travel can be, I'm beat. I decided to ride with MyLarry to Vegas; we headed down Sunday and came back Monday. We did nothing exciting, and I still feel like I've been on a three day bender.

The ride down was nothing remarkable, although the fire damage from the Milford Flat fires is still very evident. It was dark by the time we crested the hill overlooking Vegas, the city lights sure a purty in that black desert night setting. SME is the steel company sending down the beams and whatnot to the construction sites, they have a section of Frank Sinatra Drive (BLVD?) blocked off right behind The Excalibur. The view out our windshield was of the Luxor and the Mandalay Bay, very pretty. It didn't hurt that the big billboard in front of us was of the Thunder from Down Under men. Sigh. Half naked men, can't go wrong there!

We wandered around the Excalibur and ate at the buffet. It isn't cheap but with all the new food allergies, it is easy. Larry won me a wizard hat, tall and pointy, the way I like 'em. Left it in the truck, ah well. we talked about going across the way to New York New York to Coyote Ugly, but didn't really feel up to it. We went back to the truck and canoodled. Just as well, we were up at dawn to get the steel unloaded.

BTW, truck beds are singles, singles which are surrounded on three sides by padded truck walls. Cozy, very cozy. And I had forgotten the joys of baby wipe showers and camp toilets, because I was NOT going to hike a parking lot and a half and through a casino just to piddle. Larry had yesterday's coffee in the thermos and heated it in his plug-in mug. Yum, leftover joe and generic toaster pastries for brekkies. I forgot to take my meds, probably why I'm so stiff today.

So, in the morning the steelworkers came over with a forklift to move the sundry items Larry had hauled, ladders and cable and propane carts. The steel had to be taken into the pit. That's quite the maneuver. We had to drive onto I-15 and then exit, in morning traffic yet, and then drive onto the Strip. Now trucks aren't allowed on the Strip, but since that's the only way into the construction zone, there's permits and exceptions. So I got to see the Bellagio and the Monte Carlo on the fresh morning sun from eight feet up. Too bad I only had my point and shoot camera, and there's mirrors and such in the way on the passenger window, or I'd have had lovely pictures. And Vegas drivers are incredibly rude and aggressive, I mean, you KNOW your lane is ending, why try to force your way in beside the Big Honkin' Truck? I mean, we have far more lug-nuts, figure it the freak out!

As we pulled up to the construction, the flaggers came out and stopped traffic. There's a ramp down into the pit, it is very narrow. There's heavy equipment and cranes and forklifts and rebar and steel and pipes and more all around. The towers and buildings are soaring up above you, menacingly incomplete. A traffic guide walks in front of the truck until you are down in the pit. There were monster cranes on each side lifting beams into the towers; men were hanging and sitting up there guiding the beams into place hundreds of feet in the air. Even though I was in a semi, and a heavy haul semi at that, I felt tiny and vulnerable. One slip and squish! I couldn't get out to use the portos, I had no hard hat and that's the rules. I thought they would use a crane to lift the load, but no, there was a forklift for that. I always thought of forklifts as cure little things, nu-uh. Some of them are huge beasts, apparently.

There is not enough room to turn a semi around in the pit; Larry had to unhook from the trailer and turn the tractor around. They lifted the flatbed trailer up with the forklift, we had to drive past it. All those wheels in the air right at my eye level! YIKES! Then mylarry stopped, they put down the trailer and he coupled it up. Wowza. I'd never been down in the middle of a real construction job site as big as this one, massive scarcely begins to describe it.

The ride back up was almost uneventful, a big duststorm closed I-15; the fires have left the ground bare; any wind whips up dust like mad. and we detoured on a two-lane highway through Kanosh and Meadow. We detoured on a two-lane highway through Kanosh and Meadow; old Utah towns with the stone and brick homes. The highway is actually Main Street, all the sheriffs and fire volunteers were parked to see that the traffic behaved itself. The shoulders are as wide as a traffic lane, I could see why jerks might try to use them for passing on the right.

later we stopped to get a drink and take a break, I spotted some deer up on the lower foothills. Normally I never see them, but these were out in the late afternoon sun. Larry was counting them, but he was counting one herd and I was counting another. deer season is over and they're coming down before it gets cold up in the mountains. Dozens of them grazing near the cow pastures. We hit Happy Valley in time for the evening rush hour, it was full dark by the time we made it to West Vally. We got into Boo and headed home again, home again. I was so tired I fell into bed; this morning I'm stiff and out of sorts. My schedule is all messed up!

Friday, November 16, 2007

More? You want More?

Okay, why do I need a third venue for a journal? Simple as pie and cake. On Tribe, those people know me, Anti M, many of them face to face. Although I'd never say an unkind word, sometimes I need to vent into the great electronic void, faceless, anonymous. Tribe is too personal. That's where I can host pictures, that's my art space, my Burning Man-centric world. As is Eplaya, which is just a BBS, but more revealing than any blog in some ways. Livejournal also has folks who know me, but that's where I dump my really tough pity party stuff; the surgeries, the cancers. In fact, I'll go Whine and Cheese about being awake at 3 ayem with arthritis pain any moment.

What am I doing here as MaggieMayDay AllOneWord instead of my gentler Anti M self? Anti M is wise and patient, "a legend" no, really I got called that on Tribe, but MMD is the old Hayduke persona which has legs all its own. MMD doesn't much care. MMD wants to bite and kick and snarl, all while laughing at the absurdities of the multiverse. (Yes, I know, LJ is MMD also, but those who know understand that's Anti M before the new playa name stuck like glue).

So, where to find me:

Ah, I separate the blogs but provide links to them all. Yes, I am one confused woman.