From the Rain Comes Hope

It's overcast again, just like it was last year. Actually, it's more than overcast; it's raining and drizzling, stopping and starting. And once again, I'm glad that it's not that shockingly brilliant bright blue sky punctuated by smoke and horror.

This past April, President Obama signed legislation to recognize September 11 as a federally observed National Day of Service and Remembrance. How does one participate?

Just set aside a little time this 9/11 to plan or perform at least one good deed that helps someone else who may need assistance, or to support a cause that you care about. You choose.

As my contribution, I'd like to first point you towards the August Just Posts, as rounded up by Holly and Alejna. As ever, they've compiled some good posts to read, including, if I may pat myself on the back, my post about the cost of a colonoscopy.

Second, if you missed it, there was a special issue of the New York Times Magazine last month, focused on women, and "how changing the lives of women and girls in the developing world can change everything". The centerpiece was an article by Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, excerpted from their new book Half the Sky.

There’s a growing recognition among everyone from the World Bank to the U.S. military’s Joint Chiefs of Staff to aid organizations like CARE that focusing on women and girls is the most effective way to fight global poverty and extremism. That’s why foreign aid is increasingly directed to women. The world is awakening to a powerful truth: Women and girls aren’t the problem; they’re the solution.

Kristof and Wu, helpfully, included a sidebar labeled Do-It-Yourself Foreign Aid, and so, in the spirit of this National Day of Service and Remembrance, I am going to send a donation to the Friends of Edna Maternity Hospital, in support of the Edna Hospital in Somaliland, and with the hope of helping to alleviate obstetric fistula.

How will you participate?

Number Nine

Three squared.

September.

The square root of eighty-one.

Fluorine.

Pluto (before demotion).

Innings.

Title IX.

Muses.

Revolution 9.

How We Have Worked

This Labor Day, this end of summer day, I cast about for something productive to do and lit upon the mountain of CSA peppers.


Somehow, what with being away for a while, and trying to eat all the vegetables that don't keep so well, we'd ended up with a dozen perfect red Carmen peppers, along with assorted other small peppers (like that yellow one - a banana pepper, maybe). In a fit of great madness, I decided to roast and marinate and can them - yes, actual mason jars in boiling water bath.

The jury's out on whether it was worth it, because it was rather a lot of work for three pints of pickled peppers. But lordy, do I feel butch.


I used a book called Well-Preserved, by Eugenia Bone - she'd gotten a write up in the Times in the spring, and the book had wormed itself onto the list in my head. It's a small, idiosyncratic cookbook, a general demystification of the canning process with lots of tips. I might actually try making sauerkraut later in the fall. I don't think I'll can my own tuna, because, um, blech.

Labor for labor day. Somehow, it seemed apt.

Wish You Were Here - Photo edition

Dear Moky:

Here are some of the pictures we took on our trip to Maine.

MAINE

Click on the picture; it'll take you to a web album. I hope you like them.

Love,

M.

Wish You Were Here

Dear Moky,

We've just gotten back from a short vacation, up in Maine mostly. We left on Friday, a little worried about the possibility of Tropical Storm Danny getting in the way of our plans - but time and tide wait for no man, and we had a boat to catch. On the drive up from New York to Maine, we stopped for lunch at about the mid-point, at a pizza place in Worcester that I found on Roadfood.com. "Pizza place" doesn't really do it justice - this was the best pizza I've ever had: paper thin crust, perfect toppings. We got two - one with the usual tomato and cheese, which Mir ate almost all of by herself. The second one had sliced potatoes, caramelized onions, bacon, shallots, garlic butter and a sprinkling of grated cheese - no tomato, no mozzarella. I think I have never tasted ANYTHING as good. You'd have loved the place, if for nothing other than the mess of galvanized trays and stands and pitchers.

We stayed in a little hotel (inn? what's the difference) up on Pemaquid Point - the kind of funky, gracious, idiosyncratic hotel that would have appealed to you. It had been built in the late 1800s as a boarding house - and still has the narrow hallways to show for it. I was tickled to find a huge antique nautical chart in our room - of Long Island Sound. Funny to find that up in Maine. After dropping our stuff, we headed out to a lobster place for beer and lobsters and bugs and the sunset. Mir said she wanted a lobster, and she duly ate both claws - even cracked them herself. Of course, she dipped the lobster meat in ketchup, but what are you going to do?

Luckily, the threatened hurricane moved offshore, but did dump a lot of water - it rained all day Saturday, meaning that we had to stick to indoor activities. Luckily, there's a little aquarium on the next peninsula - so we drove over there and spent some time mucking around in their terrific touch tank. Mir picked up sea cucumbers and lobsters and starfish and crabs, and managed to get soaking wet - good thing we were inside, eh? After another lobster lunch, we headed to the mothership: LL Bean. What else to do on a rainy day? Mir got some new clothes for school and we headed back to the hotel, stopping in Wiscasset for a lobster roll at Red's Eats - thanks to a recommendation from Anna. It may indeed have been the best lobster roll ever - even better than the fancy one in Boston a couple of months ago that cost twice as much.

After breakfast on Sunday, we headed to Rockland, to board our boat - the schooner Nathaniel Bowditch. Wow. Again, you'd have loved it. Granted, the accomodations are spartan, at best, and there are ladders to navigate to get down to the bunks and the heads and the galley, but the sailing was splendid, the food was great, the weather was perfect, and the boat had an abundance of character. We were encouraged to help with the sailing, like providing muscle to raise the mainsail and pull up the anchor, but mostly we just stared out at the glorious wild coast of Maine. And people stared at us! There are so few of those big old sailboats left that when one shows up, everyone looks and takes a picture. We sailed from Rockland up to Castine and back, anchoring near Warren Island one night, and in Pulpit Harbor the next. And on that second night, Mir slept up on deck in a lifeboat with the four year old son of the captain - counting 3000 stars in the sky!

After docking again the next day, we moseyed down to Boston - with a stop in Yarmouth for lunch with an old friend of mine. She's got a house on the water with killer views - no beach, too cold to swim, but beautiful none-the-less. I know that you'd rather have a beach and warmer water, but you'd have liked this, I think.

Boston was a great way station - we checked into our swanky hotel and headed straight to the pool/hot tub/sauna/steam room. After all, we hadn't had a shower on board the boat, and hauling up anchors is hard work! We had an early dinner at an old German beer hall, thanks to a recommendation from Erika - the blog friends really came through on the restaurant tips.

Finally, yesterday, we drove home via the scenic and indirect route. One thing led to another and we stopped in Northampton, to show Mir where you'd gone to college. I had an ice cream cone there that knocked my socks off (well, I wasn't wearing socks, but, you know). It was Burnt Sugar 'n' Butter ice cream - sort of caramelly, with a salty kick from the butter. Looks like there's a Herrell's in Huntington - I wonder if you've ever been there?

We put enough miles on the new car to break her in - and she performed beautifully. She's fun to drive, and perfect for our little family of three. And Mir tackled three whole lobsters, though all little one pounders - not like that enormous one you once had on Cape Cod. I think it might have been the perfect vacation, even if it was only five nights away from home. I'm sorry you weren't there.

Love,

-M.

P.S. I'll have some photos to show you, soon.

Her Name Is Kate

What happens when Cash For Clunkers meets Mid-Life Crisis?


You trade in the sad 1996 Jeep Grand Cherokee, which had been racking up the repair bills, including a radiator replacement at the end of July when the radiator disintegrated spectacularly during that traffic jam caused by the wrong-way drunk stoned woman on the Taconic, and get the Six-Speed! Heated Seats! Chili Red! Mini! Clubman!

And you get your sister-in-law to dye another blue streak in your hair.

Kate's going to be put through her paces this weekend. We're heading off to Maine, a last-gasp-of-summer what-to-do-between-the-end-of-camp-and-the-beginning-of-first-grade. Salt air, lobster rolls, adventure - here we come.

Wordless Wednesday: Graffiti in Cambridge

Q: What's going on here?


A: Unsuspecting people & informed participants (like yourself) are inspiring a choreographer.

Tunes for Tuesday, Times Two

ONE:
I'm the guest DJ over at Music Savvy Mom today. Go check it out - see and hear the not-kid music that I'm listening to. And consider participating yourself - it's fun.

TWO:
The other day we unearthed a couple of boxes of CDs that haven't been touched since we moved FIVE years ago. So, in the spirit of Tunes for Tuesday, I'm giving away two discs. Leave a comment (before Thursday) and tell me whether you want

Loreena McKennitt: The Visit

or:

The soundtrack to Marie Christine, featuring Audra McDonald.

I'm happy we dug out that box of CDs - we found the Broadway shows that we'll need for our road trip at the end of the week. I'm looking forward to singing along to Hair and A Chorus Line as we sail down the highway on the way to Maine.

Sword Fighting

The child, she is a natural at the Wii Sports Resort sword fighting.



However, I don't think she's going to win any Olympic medals in fencing. Her style is a little, shall we say, violent? All she does is bash her opponent on the head, and make Daddy fear for the safety of the television.

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In unrelated news, Painted Maypole was the random winner of my Pay It Forward. A small package is on its way to her.

Let's Review: Scented Pencils

Last year, the PTA at my sister's kids' school decided to be all environmentally correct in their fundraiser - the fundraiser where the parents have to guilt their friends and neighbors into buying stuff no one really wants. Our father signed up to buy five-packs of cunning rip-stop nylon shopping bags for everyone in the family, and there wasn't really anything else we needed, but, to be supportive, I bought some colored pencils for the kid. Smencils, to be precise, colored pencils made of recycled newspaper and soaked in scent to become smelly pencils. Wouldn't "scencils" have been a better name? Scented pencils. I digress.

Yesterday, I decided we should tackle some of the over-the-summer homework that the girlie has - you know, bone up on kindergarten skills in preparation for first grade. So, out came the Smencils.

The packaging made me apeshit. It's all well and good to make pencils out of newspaper; I like that, you even see the rings of paper when you sharpen the pencil. But every single pencil is encased in its own hard plastic "corn-based biodegradable Freshness Tube" and all the pencil tubes are in a zippered vinyl tote - so there's more packaging than pencils. Why, I ask you, does a pencil need a Freshness Tube? Especially when the company says "we guarantee Smencils will maintain their scent for 2 years - in or out of their Freshness Tubes". When was the last time a kid's pencil in general use lasted for 2 years? And if it keeps its scent for two years without a tube, why does it need the tube in the first place?

Furthermore, I'm skeptical about the whole corn-based biodegradable business. It's not biodegradable in your backyard (it requires a "controlled composting environment", and according to Smithsonian, there are only 113 such facilities across the US). It has to be kept separated from the recycling of other plastics, the kinds with a number in a triangle, "lest it contaminate the recycling stream". So if you can't compost it, and you can't recycle it, it ends up in the landfill!

There's also the "morality of turning a foodstuff into packaging when so many people in the world are hungry", and the possible environmental impact of using genetically modified corn for making said packaging.

Couldn't the Smencils have been packed in a simple cardboard box like pencils used to be?

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Disclosure: I purchased the Smencils, and no one paid me for this review.

Wordless Wednesday: Wet

(In a fountain at Harvard.)

Performance Art, Or, Maybe Not

So, a couple of weeks ago, Jean Martha (via Twitter) pointed me to an interview on a Wall Street Journal blog, an interview with a guy named Sam Pocker, who bills himself as a stand-up economist and does performance art in supermarkets.

An idea began forming in my head. I could create a performance art piece, if only for my own enjoyment, by taking all the free coupons I’d gotten recently and going to the supermarket and buying nothing but those items! I’d pay nothing! I’d participate in consumer society! It was genius!

Providently, we needed limes for the pomegranate margaritas (which sort of redeemed the pomegranate juice, by the way, though the tequila may have negated the so-called health benefits of said pomegranate juice), so I gathered my coupons and my sister and off we went. I told her, mysteriously, that I was engaged in a “project” when she asked why I insisted on segregating the strange assemblage of unrelated products that I was purchasing. She cottoned on quickly, “what is this, for your blog?”

There was a little trouble locating the “right” size of one of the items, and the first container of Trop50 that I grabbed was expired, but the real snafu came when I tried to check out. Silly me, I thought six items through the self-checker would be a breeze – until I tried to scan a coupon and found that the self-checker wouldn't take the free coupons. I tried to abort the whole transaction – but instead I unintentionally summoned help, "help is on the way" chirped the robotic attendant, over and over. Some poor bewildered cashier wandered over, and couldn’t help at all because she’d lost her magic swipe card. The people behind me groaned at my breach of supermarket etiquette*. My sister fled to the next aisle, where the manager of the in-house bank branch tried to pick her up ("Nice butterfly" he said, about her temporary tattoo). The supermarket manager came over, and started punching buttons, and asked me “where’d you get all these coupons anyway?” I told him they were from a conference, and though I don’t think he thought I was a fraud, I am sure he thought I was nuts. In fact, I believe I told him I was nuts.

Eventually, he got the machine to accept four of the six coupons, and took the other two and got the cash value of those two coupons from the manager’s desk.

I was disappointed – I wanted a register receipt that had a zero balance on it, or zero plus tax, anyway. Instead, I paid $12.47 and got cash back of $11.48, meaning that I spent $.99 on sales tax for my six items, and now you know I'm nuts, because why did I bother writing this all down?

It seemed like such a nice performance art piece in my head, but it turned into a fiasco. But just wait until I review the Trop 50. And the Ragu? It's going to camp for the end of summer food drive.



* Can you believe there's a whole WikiHow page devoted to supermarket checkout-line etiquette? The mind reels.

You Want to Know How Much A Colonoscopy Costs?

I’m as confused as the next person about health care reform - but I know we need it; it’s completely bat-shit crazy the way it is now. In my heart of hearts, I think we should have a one-payer socialized system, and I'm disappointed that the “public option” may be dropped from the current attempt at health care reform.

You know that I had two colonoscopies done this summer. Both were done by the same gastroenterologist –but for some scheduling reason unclear to me, the first was done in the hospital, and the second was done in the doctor’s office. Mind you, it’s not a sole practitioner’s office, it’s a big clinic operation with a full scale suite for endoscopies and colonoscopies (and who knows what else). The insurance we have is the kind where you have to stay in-network, and then you pay a small co-pay. In an effort towards transparency, the insurance company sends an Explanation of Benefits out after any claims, showing what the doctor billed, and what insurance paid, and what the patient’s responsibility is.

I compiled the numbers for the two colonoscopies and I’m kind of flabbergasted.

#1 in the hospital

Charges billed by doctors and hospital	$9,142.84
Amount paid by insurance	$5,742.67
Co-pay due from me	$125.00

#2 in the doctor’s office

Charges billed by doctors and lab	$5,322.76
Amount paid by insurance	$2,922.63
Co-pay due from me	$30.00

The submitted charges for the procedure in the hospital were 72% higher than the charges for the scope in the doctor’s office. And the insurance company paid out 96% more for the hospital procedure. At the end of the day, my doctor got reimbursed just about the same amount – so why did he schedule one of the scopes into the hospital? It wasn't for convenience; the hospital is about a half mile from his office. Why isn’t the insurance company protesting? They had to pre-approve the procedure – why didn’t they require that the first scope be done in the office – which would have saved them nearly $3,000? Why did the insurance company pay a bigger percentage of the first scope (63%) and less for the second scope (55%)?

The thing that strikes me about all of this is the irrationality – there’s seemingly no rhyme or reason to either the pricing or the reimbursement. Why is the system so broken?

An article in the September Atlantic suggests that the way out of the mess is to put decision making back into the hands of the consumer – also known as the patients. I don't know that consumer driven health care is the answer, but if I’d known how much the colonoscopy was going to cost in the hospital as compared to in the office, I’d have chosen the office both times - even though the bulk of the cost wasn't coming (directly) out of my pocket. And I’d have saved myself nearly $100 on the co-pay in the process.

Again, I have no idea what the answer is, or how to achieve it, but there is a problem and it needs to be solved. Further, it seems clear that a solution lies in the systems in place in other first world countries. "Every wealthy country other than the United States guarantees essential care to all its citizens. There are, however, wide variations in the specifics, with three main approaches taken." That's a quote from Paul Krugman, in today's Times. Go read the whole piece. He ends thusly:

So we can do this. At this point, all that stands in the way of universal health care in America are the greed of the medical-industrial complex, the lies of the right-wing propaganda machine, and the gullibility of voters who believe those lies.

I don't know where this will end.

Let's Review: Swag, Part 2

It's been a couple of weeks since I got home from BlogHer, and all of the swag has been unpacked and consumed, stored, used, donated, or gifted. I know I already did this once, but there were a few more products that I wanted to mention. Again, no one paid me to do this, I didn’t buy any of these products, and none of them cost more than a token amount of money. But I know that you want to know what I think.

Smashies

I'm a little conflicted about this stuff. On the one hand, it's just fruit - organic smashed fruit a/k/a applesauce - on the other hand, it's packaged to a fair-thee-well. Yes, it's convenient to toss in the kid's lunchbox, or my handbag if we're heading off on an outing. And she loved the two I brought home from BlogHer. But, I send her off to school with a lunch-box, which she brings home at the end of the day, and it's a lot cheaper and more ecologically correct to send a whole apple, or to portion out some applesauce from a big jar into a small plastic container that we'll use over and over. Basically, it's a totally unnecessary product.

Prima Princessa Presents Swan Lake

I confess that I was completely skeptical about this DVD. I've been going to the ballet since I was a kid, I've studied ballet, and I work in the field. My kid saw the New York City Ballet Nutcracker when she was three, has been to other dance performances, has watched ballet class, watches dancing on YouTube, and has a mess of age appropriate books about ballet. The DVD sounded irritating and altogether too cute. But, in an effort to give it a fair hearing, I put it on. The kid watched it twice in a row, mesmerized, and has asked for it repeatedly since then. To be sure, it's got a whole lot of corny going on - including an animated fairy as narrator. But overall, it's pretty charming. There's footage of the Paris Opera Ballet's Swan Lake, with a voice over telling you who's who and what's what. There are medium-sized kids in ballet class at the School of American Ballet, intercut with a flock of four year old girls in tutus on a lawn. It's gently didactic, showing and naming a few ballet steps. For a small child, it's a nice introduction to the world of ballet.

Pictureka

One of the parties I went to was a low-key, no-swag-bag cocktail party thrown by Johnson & Johnson and Hasbro and Mom Central. There weren't any bandaids, or OB tampons, but Hasbro had card games around, if you wanted one. I brought Pictureka home because the packaging said it was appropriate for age six and up. And the 5 and 3/4 year old likes it! The game is pretty simple without being dumb - it's got loose rules with a lot of room for interpretation - and I think we'll play it often.

One last thought about this swag business. I thoroughly understand why BlogHer needs sponsors, and I thoroughly understand why sponsors want to get product samples into the hands of the attendees. But indiscriminate stuffing of product into bags isn't the way to go, unless it's genuinely something that everyone needs (not everyone needs baby food, which was in the Walmart bag). Further, there's the schleppage factor - the sponsor has to get the stuff to the conference, the attendees have to get the stuff home. One win-win solution is coupons. I came home with a bunch of coupons for free product. I'll redeem the ones I want to try (thanks Method, Tide, Gap) and I'll probably pass along the coupon for a free jar of Ragu to someone who needs it more than we do (remember, I live with an Italian grandmother). My husband already ate the free McDonald's hamburger. Another solution would be for the sponsor to collect names and addresses, and ship the product to the interested blogger. That's what Hasbro did. Yeah, they handed out some games at their cocktail party, but they also handed out cards on which you could choose up to five games (out of maybe 15 choices). They haven't come yet, but I think we'll be getting a bunch of games to play.

About BlogHer 2009? That's all she wrote. Until next year.

Wordless Wednesday: Another Polar Bear

Different zoo, different polar bear, same iPhone camera.

That Tooth Of Mine

After some people asked me what had happened to that tooth of mine in 1969, I started to wonder. Why was I sorry?

It occurred to me that it could be from the time I chipped my front tooth on one of those merry-go-round things that used to be in playgrounds and backyards. Dangerous whirling metal objects causing childhood trauma and trips to the dentist! No wonder they've been banned.

But I didn't open up the little folded up piece of paper to see if it was merely a chip. Anyway, it probably isn't that at all - wouldn't the chip have gone flying?





Photo found at 1000 Awesome Things.

Belkin, Mommyblogging and Balance

So, Lisa Belkin commented on my BlogHer recap:

"not nearly as annoying as I thought it was going to be.." Thanks. I think, : )

I've been mulling this over, that is, why I was anticipating that that particular panel would be annoying.

In every given time slot during the BlogHer conference day, there are multiple things going on, different "tracks" they call them. If you're lucky, you want to go to one and only one. If you're less lucky, you have to make a choice. The worst scenario is when you want to go to one panel, and end up next door because the first one was too crowded.

The Belkin panel was at the same time as the "Brands and Bloggers" panel. I kind of wanted to go to that one because it was going to be run by Jory Des Jardins, and the panelists included Liz Gumbinner (of Mom-101 and Cool Mom Picks) and other women on "both sides of the Brand/Blogger border". It sounded potentially interesting and provocative, and while I'm really not a review blogger, I follow the discussions about commercialism and transparency with some curiousity.

But it was full! Standing room only, not a seat in the room. So I went next door to the panel titled "MommyBlogging: 'Balance' is a Big, Fat, Lying, McLiar LIE for Moms who Blog (and the rest of us too)", the panel that Lisa Belkin was moderating.

Belkin has written for my local paper, the New York Times, for years. Not so long ago, she started writing a parenting blog on the Times website - in addition to continuing to appear in print. Her blog, to my mind, tends to be intentionally polarizing. She seems to pick topics that are going to engender a big pile-on of comments on both sides of an issue - breastfeeding, IVF, drinking, potty-training, college tuition - and frequently ends posts with a question to prompt comments. I dip into her blog from time to time, but it's not on my daily reads. In any case, it wasn't Belkin that I found potentially annoying; it was the combination of "mommyblogging" and "balance".

First, I'm not a mommyblogger. Yes, I have a child who calls me Mama. I also have a sister, but having a sister doesn't make me a sisterblogger. Nor does having a husband make me a wifeblogger.

I don't even particularly identify as a "mom". I'm someone's mother, but I'm also someone's wife, someone's sister, aunt, cousin, child, niece, in-law and step-sister. I'm also someone's employee, boss to several people, and friend hither and yon.

In short, I'm me. I am a blogger - I write about what moves me, I write about what interests me, I write about things that irritate me no end. In short, I write about whatever the hell I feel like writing about, which does include my kid from time to time.

Second, "balance" is overrated. Either you're coping or you're not coping. I get up, go to work, come home. My house is messy, our meals are unplanned, the kid needs her fingernails cut. But she's fed and shod, the bills get paid, important things don't (usually) fall by the wayside. We just deal and accept a degree of chaos. It seems to me that complaining about balance is an instance of whining for the sake of whining.

With that said, heading into a panel about "balance" under the "mommyblogging" label was like expecting that all of my buttons were going to be pushed. And happily, they weren't. Belkin was an engaging moderator, the panelists (Angela Tseng, Pauline Karwowski and Rita Arens) were spirited and articulate, and the audience piped up too.

So, I wasn't annoyed, but I don't think I learned anything.

How about you? Do you struggle with "balance", or do you just put your head down and get things done? And what does "balance" mean, anyway?

Let's Review: Pomegranate Juice

A month or so ago, I got an email from someone at Pom Wonderful, wondering if I'd like to try a case of their pomegranate juice. Sure, why not? I'd been vaguely curious about their product ever since a 2008 New Yorker profile of Lynda Resnick, the owner of the company, which focused on her creation of the pomegranate juice market beginning in 2002.

A box of eight cute little 8-ounce bottles showed up, packed on ice because it's fresh juice and needs to be refrigerated. I cracked one open and winced. Man, that stuff is astringent - to the point that it makes your tongue all weird. And it's awfully high in calories - 8 ounces has 160 calories - in contrast, a 12 ounce can of Coca-Cola has only 140 calories. Ounce for ounce, the pomegranate juice has 71% more calories than Coke.

The box came with some promotional material about the "health benefits" of pomegranate juice, but because I'm a natural skeptic, I figured I should poke around a little and see what other people had to say.

Consumer Reports does say that "there's some preliminary human evidence that pomegranate juice may yield tangible health benefits. In a small clinical trial published last year in the journal Clinical Nutrition, for example, drinking a glass of pomegranate juice each day for one year reduced blood pressure, decreased the oxidation that causes “bad” LDL cholesterol to stick to artery walls, and reduced clogging of arteries in the neck (a risk factor for stroke)."

However, and also according to Consumer Reports, "pomegranate juice may offer some health benefits, but it can also interact with some medications, including ACE inhibitors and antihypertensive drugs".

Pom Wonderful claims to be the "antioxidant superpower". But what does that mean? What's the point of antioxidants anyway?

According to the Times, there is "no evidence that [antioxidant supplements] prolong life, and strong evidence that they might shorten it." Furthermore, Barry Popkin, quoted elsewhere in the Times, says that "drinking a glass of fruit juice a day...has been linked...to increased calorie intake and higher risks of diabetes and heart disease".

I think the Pom Wonderful people are selling a bill of goods. It's not great juice, it's high in calories, and its health benefits are dubious.

I'm too cheap to throw the stuff away, so I've been slipping it in my morning smoothies: one banana, a half cup of plain yogurt, and 4 ounces of the pomegranate juice. It comes out a nice shade of pink, but even banana and yogurt don't mask the astringency. I also have been making pink lemonade by adding a couple of tablespoons to a half gallon of plain lemonade, and some of the pomegranate juice made its way into my eggplant caponata.

But will I be buying it any time soon? Nope.

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Disclosure: The pomegranate juice was provided to me by the manufacturer, at no cost to me. And they did not pay me for this review.

Pay It Forward, Heathen

Don't you love getting things in the mail? I don't mean bills, I don't mean the new clothes you ordered for the kid, I don't even mean the monthly shipment of coffee that keeps your household from spiraling into a cranky uncaffeinated disaster.

No, I'm talking about things you're sort of expecting, but you don't know what they're going to be - like birthday cards and giveaways from far-flung bloggers.

Kelly, of Heathen Family Revival, recently sent me a great package - a set of notecards using her own photo of asparagus, and a handmade fabric roll-up case for crayons - something for me, and something for the kid.

It's now incumbent on me to send something to one of you. I don't know what it'll be, I don't know if it'll be handmade, I don't know whether you'll like it, but I'll send it by ordinary US mail to help keep the post office in business.

Leave me a comment on this post by Thursday 8/13, and tell me one banal thing about your kitchen. I'll pick a winner at random on Friday 8/14. Sometime after that, sooner than later, I'll send you your gift, and then you'll Pay It Forward on your own blog and give someone else something cool.

Wordless Wednesday: Swimming

At the beginning of the summer, she wouldn't put her head underwater. By the time camp is over in a couple weeks, she will probably have completed Level 2 of the Red Cross Learn to Swim program. I'm kind of proud of her.

I Know What I'm Doing In 2014

As much fun as it was to have a colonoscopy in June and another one in July, it’s much nicer to be told that all’s well and I don’t need another one for FIVE years.

Don’t let me stop you from having one of your own though. The procedure is a piece of cake, and the prep really isn’t that bad. My two cents? The orange flavor packet for the Trilyte is better than the lemon-lime, and drinking it at room temperature is easier than drinking it cold. Mind you, “better” and “easier” are incremental improvements, but improvements none-the-less.

You know you ought to, so just do it.

Mock Caponata

The thing about the CSA is that you end up with vegetables that you might not actually have bought if you saw them at the market. Like eggplant. I don’t love eggplant, but one came home the other day, along with a couple of zucchini and three different kinds of peppers and a mess of parsley and some other stuff.

But the eggplant. It sat there balefully in the fridge while I wondered what to make of it. Ha, I said, caponata – it would go well with the cold leftover steak we were going to have for dinner. I picked up the Campagna cookbook at 6:00 and instead of being dissuaded by the admonition that this "isn't one of those speedy weeknight dishes you can start cooking at 7:00 pm and have on the table at 7:30", I forged onward. Cookbooks, to me, are for inspiration - not for line by line instructions and specific measurements.

Guerrilla Mock Caponata

Dice an onion and toss it in a hot saucepan with some olive oil. Whack up a couple of peppers and toss them in – I used a sweet banana pepper, and a slightly spicy Mariachi pepper. Stir ‘em around a bit, then add a chopped eggplant and a chopped zucchini. Don’t bother salting the eggplant – who has time for that? Add a little tangy liquid – I used a couple of ounces of pomegranate juice – and slam a lid on the pot. Let it cook for a bit. Give it a stir, toss in a mess of chopped garlic, and add some more sweet and sour stuff. I used a tablespoon of pomegranate molasses, a splash of red wine vinegar and a dash of orange olive oil – along with a teaspoon of capers and a couple of tablespoons of chopped raisins. Cook, covered for a while longer, and then let cool to room temperature. Stir in some chopped parsley and serve. It’s a nice cross between a vegetable side dish and a condiment.

If I may say so myself, it was awfully tasty.

Most recipes for caponata will likely have celery and tomato and olives, and no zucchini – but to me, it's all about the sweet and tangy. I got there by using what I had around, but other things would work too - I thought of tossing in a blob of ketchup, or orange juice, or wine.

Oh, and start to finish? It took an hour, including 15 minutes on the stove unattended, and 15 minutes to cool.

Tooth Fairy

fEB. 17, [1969]

Dear, Tooth Fairy,

I am sorry this

happened, but

please take it.

Love,

---

Yes, there's a tooth of mine folded up in a little piece of paper and taped to the typed note. It's a terrible image, but it's hard to scan a three dimensional object.

I've been hanging onto this for months - waiting to post it until the girlie lost her first tooth - which happened yesterday, at camp. Alas, instead of writing a note to the tooth fairy, she had a temper tantrum, and went to bed without even slipping the tooth under her pillow. Don't worry, the tooth fairy came anyway.

Let's Review: Swag

In the aftermath of all the BlogHer swag hysterics, I thought I’d review some of the swag that I came home with. No one paid me to do this, I didn’t buy any of these products, and none of them cost more than a token amount of money. But I know that you want to know what I think, right?

Wiley Day-Glo Orange Luggage Tag: I <3 Blogging

I flew out to Chicago with a carry-on bag that’s my husband’s. I’ve never used it before, and it’s black, and everyone else’s bag is black, and when I was getting off the plane I was pretty sure I had the right bag, but not sure enough that I didn’t have to check the address tag that he’d hidden. So, on the way home, I dangled the Day-Glo Orange Luggage Tag off the handle, and bingo! No chance of missing my bag. Thanks, Wiley!

Eucerin Everyday Protection Face Lotion SPF 30

For years I’ve been using a moisturizer from Kiehl’s. My father, who travels all the time, always brings back sample size bottles of the Kiehl’s from some swanky hotel. I swipe his bottles, all’s right with the world. But I ran out, and I haven’t been able to find a moisturizer that I like. I think the Eucerin might be it. It’s a drugstore brand (so it’s cheap), it feels nice on my face, and it’s even got sunscreen (which my dermatologist will be happy about).

Blue Avocado BlogHer Conference Bag

I've written before about my love for carabiners, and although I’m long on reusable bags for shopping and groceries, the nylon sack handed out at check-in is a keeper – inside it’s got a little attached stuff sack with a carabiner! That wasn't the only carabiner I got: Karianna was handing out "karibiners" clipped to her business card.

Bounce Dryer Bar

“Stick it and forget it”. I don’t know about you, but the thought of gluing a waxy bar of chemicals to the inside of my dryer completely skeeves me out. I’m kind of in the dryer sheets are unnecessary and environmentally incorrect camp, though I often use them because they help with the static business. I find that a whole sheet leaves too much scent, so I cut them in half (which has the added benefit of making a box last twice as long). But I don’t like touching the sheets – they feel gross and leave a residue on my hands (especially if you’re cutting up a whole box – I’m a weirdo, what do you want?). Anyway recently I’ve switched to using Method’s dryer sheets – they smell better and I got sucked in by their holy green no-animal-fat product description. So the Bounce Dryer Bar? Thanks, but no thanks.

Tag Reader Spiderman Book

I was a little irritated to get a Tag Reader Spiderman book in one of the swag bags, along with a coupon for a discount on the Reader – it seemed like giving away a razor blade to force you to buy the whole razor. But then I realized that the book stands along, and doesn’t need the Reader at all. Besides, the girlie loved the book. It’s not fine literature, but if she likes it, I can’t complain.

Wordless Wednesday: Nora Goes Bowling

Nora couldn't be at BlogHer in the flesh, but she got there on a stick. She went bowling, she went out to dinner, she napped, she saw friends, she ate cheeseburgers. She even got stuck in my cleavage. If you need more photographic evidence as to Nora's travels, check here and here.

The requisite BlogHer post

Maggie Dammit describes it as akin to Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hole. I think it's kind of like a college reunion - lots of people with whom you have commonality, but don't see very often or even like very much. For a few days, real life paused and I found myself in some parallel universe.

I had a great time meeting and seeing people - wonderful warm generous lovely smart people - like Cecily and Mel and Aurelia and Annette and Amanda and VodkaMom and Marinka and Jean and Lori and and Becky and Becky and Catherine and Susan and Ree and IzzyMom and Grace and Emma and if you're not listed, it doesn't mean I don't love you. I met Lisa Stone when I didn't have any cards on me. I gave Kelcey a ride to the airport and never saw her again - her humor panel room was overflowing. I met Florinda for the first time and she was a perfect roommate.

I found the sessions I went to inspirational - I wanted to give Kelly a standing ovation when she finished talking about the "transformative power of blogging", the community keynote made us laugh and cry, and the mommyblogging panel on balance with Lisa Belkin wasn't nearly as annoying as I thought it would be.

I was delighted to meet the Johnson & Johnson people who sponsored me; they were lovely and seemed genuinely happy to have been able to support the random handful of bloggers who won their sweepstakes.

I was happy to wear another hat when I got to thank the representatives from Method and Sprout. Several months ago, they'd come through generously when I asked for product for a silent auction charity event I was working on.

I didn't win a netbook (which I don't need anyway) or a washer/dryer (which I do). And I didn't win new tires, but I did have my picture taken with the Michelin man (and anyway I need two new cars, not four new tires, thank you very much).

I was tickled to be invited to a private party given by Nintendo, a swank party complete with horse-drawn carriages and a spectacular view of Chicago from the 95th floor of the Hancock building. Nintendo's outreach reps are charming, and all of the guests got a DSi in the slickest gift box ever - it opens up to a vanity mirror, with lights and applause.

That gift box was one of the best things I brought home for the girlie, but she did like the Strawberry Shortcake dolls and the Schleich white tiger and the toy car and the clown nose and the coloring books and the chocolate lollipop. And my husband ate all of the chocolates that came from the Room 704 party (but he hasn't seen the vibrator yet).

I even left the hotel on Saturday morning, and - with Gwen - went to the Art Institute of Chicago and walked back along the lake.

And there's a lot of shite floating around about swag and marketing and PR, but eh. For me, the weekend was fun, and maybe I'll post some pictures tomorrow. After all, I've got some downtime tomorrow - I'm detoxing from BlogHer by having a colonscopy. Joy.

Starting And Flying

My first blog posts were on 23 July 2006 - three years ago today. Somehow, it seems fitting that I'm getting on a plane to Chicago later, to fly to the BlogHer conference for the second time. What's more: I am tickled and grateful to have won one of the Blogher Johnson & Johnson sweepstakes - so my trip is covered. Phew!

Despite Thoreau's admonition to "beware of all enterprises that require new clothes", I've done something I've never done before: I had a pedicure. Somehow, it seemed like the right time to use the gift certificate I got for Christmas.

To keep you busy while I'm gone, I filched a meme from Schmutzie: please, if you would be so kind, leave me a comment answering these three four questions.

1. What is your website url?
2. Where are you from in real life?
3. What do you want to be when you grow up?
4. Should I keep my blogroll? It's gotten out of hand and out of date.

And, if you're going to be in Chicago, find me!

Wordless Wednesday: Anonymous

There are graves in Boston's North End cemetery that are worn, flaked, erased to the point of anonymity, but still standing. I like to think that the second set is a mama and her baby, mama still protecting her baby.

Nature > Art :: Art > Nature

Sometimes, there are moments of serendipity.

One of the stops on our little Boston jaunt was the art museum at my alma mater, which had a small installation by Kiki Smith, "Artist as Curator". It was the kind of installation that really appeals to me - a mash-up if you will - in this case, many many vessels arrayed in cubbyholes. The vessels were varied in size, material, age, color, purpose - but all of the objects could be construed as a vessel, a container of some sort.

The object in the array that I came back to several times is no longer a vessel - instead it's a now fused stack of broken Chinese porcelain, found at a shipwreck*. It's crusted with barnacles, and it's taken on a whole other aspect, somehow organic, with insect-like articulation along the stacked bowls. Nature has created art from a man-made thing.

Later during the weekend, we saw a documentary, something that I've been meaning to watch for about two years. I'd thrown the DVD in my bag thinking if there were downtime in the hotel, it might be perfect. And it was.

Rivers and Tides is about Andy Goldsworthy, a British sculptor who works with natural materials. Sometimes he builds things, permanent things, like the serpentine rock wall at Storm King or the many ovoid cairns he's done in different places. But lots of his work is ephemeral - it lives for moments, or a day, recorded in memory or through photography. He'll pin leaves together with pine needles, sewing a long ribbon, which he then sets loose on a river. He'll build driftwood arches where the tide will wash them away. He breaks and re-forms icicles to create loops round a tree - until they melt. It's breathtakingly creative and a little bit crazy. And it's kind of the opposite of the Chinese porcelain sculpture - it's man turning nature into art.



Somehow, the juxtaposition of experiencing that Chinese porcelain in the museum and the ephemeral natural art in the documentary sparked all kinds of creative juices in me. It's related to my impulse to knit hats out of scrap yarn, or make blankets out of old t-shirts. It's the revisiting of a material and giving it new form, new life.



*Sotheby's auctioned off many of the salvaged pieces; their press release on the shipwreck and the sale is here (it's a pdf).

Trot, trot, to Boston...Home, home again

We had a whirlwind trip to Boston - entertaining to a fare-thee-well.

• On the way there, we stopped to wander around "my" college campus, grabbed a cheap lunch in the student center, and scampered through the art museum - where Mir announced that she wanted to marry a sculpture, a non-figurative sculpture that took up a whole gallery.
• After checking into the hotel, we looked at the swan boats in the Boston Public Garden, before embarking on the corny touristy but lots of fun Duck Tour.
• At a steak house near the hotel, I had a sublime goat cheese croquette with tomato and chorizo - and the girl had plain pasta. Yes, I know it was a steak house.
• We splurged on room service for breakfast on Saturday before heading out to the aquarium to see sharks and seals and starfish.
• On the recommendation of the hotel concierge, we had lunch at a fish place in the North End, where we perpetrated a most extreme fraud on the child: we ordered her a plate of fried clams, and told her they were chicken nuggets. And she ate them, and loved them, and they were really good, as was absolutely everything there.
• We hiked a teensy bit of the Freedom Trail, including the Paul Revere House, The Old North Church, and the Copp's Hill Burying Ground. We ended up at the USS Constitution - which we skipped because the line was way too long.
• After being out all day, we relaxed in the hotel pool - and W. and I took turns in the saunas and steam rooms, while the girl bobbed in and out of the water.
• Because we were beat and lazy, we had dinner at the hotel restaurant on Saturday night, where we had a charming and chatty waiter who reminded me that you can buy wine at Trader Joe's on Sundays in Massachusetts!
• Sunday morning, we checked out and drove to Cambridge, where we had crepes with a blogger (and her little fat baby).
• The glass flowers at the Harvard Museum of Natural History were next - and the girl got to hold a chunk of coprolite, "ew, dinosaur poop!"
• The girl got soaked running through a fountain, so we changed her clothes on the sidewalk, and she rode all the way home without underpants.

The end.

Oh, the moral of the story? When the kid announces that she has to pee, shamelessness helps. We availed ourselves of the kindness of a real estate agent and a church gardener.

The end, really.

Oh, and I did buy two cases of wine at Trader Joe's. Best souvenir ever.

Now, the end.

Although I forgot the part where we went to Providence on the way home, because we had to give equal opportunity visitation to Daddy's alma mater.

The end?

Almost My Sentiments

The first words out of the girlie's mouth this morning were: "Are there going to be bunkbeds at the hotel?" A couple of years ago, I'd taken her with me to my college reunion. We'd stayed in a dorm room with a bunkbed, and she's never forgotten it. She's been asking to go back and visit the campus again, and we needed a weekend away, so we asked my sister-in-law for a favor. She nabbed us a great deal in a swank hotel - without bunkbeds - so we're getting on the road today, for a long weekend in Boston.

I don't know what all we'll do there, but we are not going to a Red Sox game. I can't see taking the kid to a major league game yet (way too much money for someone who won't appreciate it), and when I do? It'll be a Mets game. I grew up in New York, and we'd go to Mets games once in a while, but no one was a big fan or anything. It was just one of those things you did in the summer.

Then I went off to college, in the Boston area as you may have surmised, and somehow ended up at Fenway for a Red Sox / Yankees game, where, I confess, I rooted for the Yankees. It was a freshman transgression - really, your Honor, I was just supporting the New York team, not knowing any better - and that was it. I immediately saw the error of my ways.

That said, this guy's shirt made me laugh. After I took the picture of his back - at the Central Park Zoo - I tapped him on the shoulder and told him I liked his shirt. He looked a little sheepish, and told me he was worried about wearing it out in public in New York.

When it comes right down to it, I think I hate the Yankees more than I root for the Mets. Just on principle.

And anyway, the Red Sox are elsewhere this weekend.

Crystal Ball

When the gypsy tells your fortune by gazing into her crystal ball, is everything upside down?


I had half a mind to filch Fond of Snape's "What Is It Wednesday" conceit, but I haven't the energy. Anyway, the crystal ball above isn't actually cropped from a bigger picture, instead, it's a detail of a bigger object.

Perhaps the most stunning topiary that De and I saw the other day was a huge boxwood elephant that you can sit on. It's got iron steps up to an iron howdah, complete with cushioned seat and crystal finials, and it squirts water out of its trunk. My five year old would have climbed up and not come down. It was fetching. And I loved the way the finials turned the house upside down.

Garden Hopping with Nora and De

My mother would have had a good time yesterday. It was a beautiful clear summer day, perfect for garden hopping in a shiny red convertible. She'd have liked the gardens, she'd have loved the wind in her hair, and she have relished the fringe benefit of dissecting how the other half lives.

A couple of weeks ago, I'd emailed De to tell her about a Garden Conservancy Open Days event that was going to be near where she lives, thinking it might be something she'd like. One thing led to another and we ended up meeting at a diner just off a highway, piling into her shiny red car, and traipsing through the private gardens of three complete strangers, one garden more wondrous than the next.

By chance, Nora's head had arrived in the mail the day before (because I'm taking her to BlogHer next week), so I brought her (head) along for the ride.

Here's Nora on a fetching lichen encrusted teak bench, overlooking a marshy little cove.



And here she is in a topiary armchair, facing an inviting navy blue swimming pool (you'll have to take my word for that).


And last but not least, here's Nora cavorting with Atlas.

De organized the tour brilliantly. We started off at a lovely little garden, one that felt like home to me - I could have planted it, and maintained it, and enjoyed it. The next one was a far-fetched fantasy of topiary - a pair of lions, an elephant, the afore-mentioned armchair - on a not huge piece of land. It was done to a fare-thee-well, but was the garden of a person with a lot of help and the concomitant funds, and do you really want to live with all that topiary? The third garden was mind-blowing - secret paths through the woods, a koi pond surrounding a Chinese pavilion, fruit trees, a petanque court, sky blue lace cap hydrangeas at every turn, a grotto, sculpture tucked here and there, and a friendly orange tiger cat wandering through the bushes. As we were leaving, I told De I was going to go home and slit my wrists; she reasonably said that since it was so far out of the realm of possibility, there was no point to jealousy.

But I do have the urge to move the shrubbery around.

Vanishing Point

Two parallel lines
Recede behind my train and
converge into one.

How banal. But I love watching out the front or back of the train, being mesmerized as the tracks go by. It's rare these days to get to watch out the front; they've got the engineer boxed into his* private compartment and unless he's breaking the rules by leaving the door open, we can't look out. So the end car, the erstwhile caboose, offers a more consistent view, and a more wistful one: where we've been, not where we're going. It also offers, on straight track, a perfect illustration of the powers of perspective. The parallel tracks appear closer and closer together, until they might as well be one.

*Always male - I think I've never seen a female engineer on one of my commuter trains. Conductors, yes - but not the engineers.

Patterns

We spent the Fourth of July making a loop up the west side of the Hudson, and back down the east side. One of our stops was West Point, where we actually took the tour (because it’s now the only way to get onto the base - you used to be able to just drive through). The tour isn’t much more than a narrated bus ride, though we did get to go into the chapel, which is rather lovely.

It had that familiar smell of dust and incense, and all the hymnals and bibles were lined up along the backs of the pews just so, looking kind of like the sea of white tombstones at a military cemetery.


The organ console is astonishing - it's got more stops than I've ever seen on an organ, and is said to be the largest working church organ in the world.


We didn't get to hear the organ, alas, but we did hear and see the cadets march into lunch - three drums, one bugle and more than a thousand identically dressed impending soldiers marching like ants up the stairs into the mess hall. It was entrancing and transfixing, and heartrending too, the unison choreography of war.

I find myself drawn to patterns and textures - that sea of hymnals, the array of organ stops, the marching multitudes. I take pictures of moss, and of piles of vegetables. I don't wear clothes with prints, or fabrics with more than one color; my closet is a sea of solids distinguished by their textures. I'm partial to text-less magazine pages filled with pattern to their full-bleed edges - and I rip them out to use for collage or wrapping paper. I love an old brick wall, the bricks laid by hand, each a slightly different color from its neighbor.

I think there's something hard wired in me that wants to organize the world in a certain way. How about you? What would you have seen in that chapel?

Cultural Enrichment

Back in January, I realized - with a shock - that we were going to have to send the kid to camp - you know, so we could go to work? So I set about researching local day camps and found one that seemed good, came well recommended, was only an arm and a leg (as opposed to the ones that are two arms and both legs), and included door to door bus service.

The only thing that stuck in my heathen pagan atheist craw just a tiny little bit was that it's a Jewish camp, run by a local JCC. Don't get me wrong - it's not the Jewish part that gave me pause, it's the religious part. But I got over it and camp started last week. The kid is happy, she comes home filthy and tired, and she's supposedly learning how to swim.

On the third day, I got a text from my husband:

She came home with a metallic-blue yarmulke and a small plastic shofar. Retaliation for the ham sandwich?

Yeah, he sent her to camp with a ham sandwich. Oh well. At the parent orientation, they'd said "no pork, no shellfish", but "if your kid will only eat a ham sandwich, it's okay." I guess that's the kind of concession you have to make when half of your campers aren't Jewish.

Anyway, there'd been a band there, playing for the kids, and handing out yarmulkes and shofars - kind of like Lester Lanin tossing out beanies at debutante balls - so, no cause and effect between the ham sandwich and the yarmulke. The yarmulke has since had red yarn attached to it by the child, who's taken to tying it on and wearing it around the house as a "helmet". The wrong person is going to ring the doorbell one day and have a heart attack.

Today, we had the following conversation in the car on the way home from hiking in the woods.

Her: You know what we say at camp in the morning? Boker tov, Camp Disco.* That means hello.

Me: In what language?

(pause)

Her: Um, camp?

(Daddy nearly drives off the road.)

So, on the one hand, she's getting all kinds of cultural enrichment. On the other hand, she has no idea what any of it means. I guess that'll come. In the meantime, the amusement factor for her parents has been worth every penny.

* Pronounced "booker toe, camp dis-coe" with the emphasis on the toe and the coe.

Setting the Music Free

I'm cleaning house and giving away some music - all on CD, all by women.

There are three packages, each with a different artist; leave me a comment and tell me what (who) you want - I'll pick three winners on Wednesday the 8th.

1. One CD by Natalie Imbruglia

Left of the Middle

2. Two CDs by Eileen Ivers

Wild Blue
Traditional Irish Music

3. Three CDs by Regina Carter

Motor City Moments
Regina Carter
Something for Grace

My Country 'tis of Thee

Wishing you a happy Fourth of July, with coleslaw and fireworks and spirited renditions of all the great patriotic songs.



I've been teaching the girlie the true and correct version of "America The Beautiful":

O beautiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above thy fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed her grace on thee
And crown thy good with sisterhood
From sea to shining sea!

After all, its words were written by Katharine Lee Bates, an 1880 graduate of Wellesley, and later head of Wellesley's English Department. Wellesley, as you may know, was and remains a women's college - and Bates had a long relationship with another Katharine. In my humble opinion, Bates undoubtedly would have used "sisterhood", had it been politically correct a century ago. In any case, it's the way the song is sung on the campus, and it's the version my girlie needs to know.

Sing out!

Suitable

I am kind of thrilled to hear that Vikram Seth is planning a sequel to A Suitable Boy. If you've never read it, it's a 1200 page Indian soap opera. I read it years ago, reading in little chunks every night before bed (because you do not want to be carrying a 1200 page hardcover on the subway, though come to think of it, a 1200 page book might be a good excuse for a Kindle), and when I was done, I was bereft. I missed them all. So yeah! In four years, they'll be back in my life.

I'm Looking Forward To Another Nap

I have a little free-floating anxiety on the cancer front.

Because both of my parents had polyps discovered via colonoscopy, I was considered a candidate for early scopes, that is, before turning 50. I had the first when I was just past 40, and I had another a couple of weeks ago.

I laid in a supply of peach jello and lemon drops, and drank my cocktail, gallons of salty viscous liquid, like bad Gatorade, gagging all the way. The preparation for the colonoscopy is AWFUL, but the procedure itself is nothing. I had it done in the hospital, and spent the waiting time pre- and post-procedure eyeballing the nurses and wondering which ones were the drug addicts. (I’d seen Nurse Jackie for the first time the night before – have you seen it?)

My doctor found a tiny polyp, and removed it, and a larger one, which he biopsied. A week later, his nurse called up and said breezily “it’s benign, but he wants to see you for a follow-up”. Oh sure.

It turns out that the larger polyp isn’t a polyp at all – but a sessile serrated adenoma – something half way between a polyp (which is simply benign) and an adenoma (which is possibly precancerous) – and in fact, it’s a category of growth that didn’t exist until pathologists decided it really was different a few years ago.

So it might be pre-cancerous, and I have to drink another six quarts of salty viscous liquid, and it has to come out.

But, the nap I had after I got home from the procedure? Was the best four hour nap EVER. I’m looking forward to another one of those.