So now they tell us....
Hi, all.
I subscribe to the monthly Funny Times, and though I hadn't opened the last few issues, I opened this month's and as usual, went straight to News of the Weird, a compilation of true and truly bizarre recent news pieces. The first one was a report that picking your nose can send bacteria to your brain that causes dementia. Maybe that explains teenagers; and all this time we thought it was hormones...
You all know that I had something go wrong with my brain on July 31st. In the ensuing months, there've been a series of frustrating and ineffective exchanges with various health providers. In early March, I finally called Asheville Neurology directly for an appointment. She said their first available was in July, but that it had to be a referral. Back I go to try get a referral, and finally on April 2 the referral was made, but the first available appointment is now October. I'm sure I'll be in the loony bin by then, and will be happy to have visitors, but be worried about my dogs.
A month ago I rode with a friend to a function I had no role in. I got bored, so - because I do need naps now more than I used to - I went back to the car and laid down in the backseat. It was a sunny afternoon and the windows were closed. It got pretty warm in there, and as I got hotter and more uncomfortable I found myself thinking I could just go to sleep and not wake up so all this would just stop. And then I thought about my dogs and I opened the door and got out.
This brain stuff feels like inside my skull there are two brains whacking at each other with cricket bats. (I've never touched a cricket bat, but since I am addicted to a 20 year old British mystery series called MidSomer Murders, I see them ever so often. When I've watched the final episode, I'll have to find another British series to be addicted to so at least my evening recreation will have some semblance of constancy.)
It can change every day; it can change hourly or within the space of a few minutes. If I didn't have things to take care of, my two brains could just sit with me in front of my computer and give gripping play-by-plays of my entire day. I do find joy now in finishing simple tasks like finishing laundry and dishes - and even vacuuming - which I have always hated. I will say this: a lightweight cordless vacuum cleaner with lights makes ALL the difference.
I'm at a stage in life where - because I have never been able to comprehend nor fear insolvency - I find myself having to tackle chores that I really am not suited for. I've always figured that if I had the right tool for a job, I wouldn't have to pay someone else to do it - like hedge-trimming, pruning, or cutting down trees. So over the years, I've become somewhat of a tool junkie. I've collected tools it turns out I'm too small to use, or they are small enough for me to handle and therefore do a horrible job because the job is too big for that girly-sized tool. Last week, I watched a friend use a Sawz-All to cut a small tree so it would quit choking a young pine. There were more young pines needing that same attention, and I thought, "I can do that!"
I went to the hardware store to get my own cordless Sawz-All. I love most of the guys at the Ace Hardware here. Most of the time I know what I'm asking for and why I need it, but sometimes they (wisely) quiz me. So when they asked why I wanted one and I told them, they said that the sap will continually gum up the blades, and the tool - even though I could easily replace the blades - will fail sooner rather than later. And then sold me for $20 less what's basically a battery-operated chain saw, only the chain is exposed only on the bottom cutting edge; the top is covered; should I get kickback, my face won't get chewed up. And the blade is only 9" long anyway. Girly-size!
My neighbors are back from their trip; I've been waiting to try the tool once I knew someone would be there to call 911 if I did whack myself. (I also greatly missed them!) I realized that it probably would also trim the privet hedge that I have let grow up along my yard fence, in which case I will not have to buy a hedge trimmer (which I'm too short to use anyway; they're too heavy for me to lift and hold at shoulder height).
I've told my neighbors that I am a tool junkie and to not buy anything until they've checked my utility room or the shed. Same with office supplies, not that anyone uses those anymore...
Speaking of neighbors: what are the chances that on the same day someone leaves a 9" x 12" glass baking dish on your porch, someone else shows up with a dozen freshly-caught trout you can dredge in cornmeal in that very baking dish? Synchronicity! (If that's how that's spelled; doesn't look right to me, but maybe it's just this bizarre font.)
Another brain-related (I think) thing is that until yesterday, I had not gone for a walk since the brain-crack. For years and years, I walked the dogs two or three times a day - before and after work, then again before bedtime. Being a person who rescues dogs rather than buying the exact traits I want, it's a bit of a crap shoot. If I ask my main dog Sadie if she wants to go for a walk, she runs outside and hides in the bushes. Fang, my emergency back-up dog (I stole this concept from Dave Barry) will let me put on her cute little pink harness (the only color Fox Brothers had in her size; I am not one to fuss about what my dogs wear), but once we get as far as the corner, where ALL the resident and visitor dogs check their mail at the utility pole on Terri McCurry's yard, she's done. So it's their fault that I'm fat, right?
But every morning before I get out of bed - and this has been going on since the brain crack - I say to myself, "I AM going for a walk today." And then I don't do it; this from a person who's been president of two walking clubs, regularly walked 10km volksmarch routes, and guided hikers on the 6-ish mile loop at the top of Mt. Mitchell. It's not like I don't have the time...it must be the same evil brain telling me I may as well drive uptown (a 5-minute walk...).
Changing channels: Last night, I attended a Democrat fundraiser dinner. The food was good, but apparently a lot of people bought tickets and didn't use them. I believe 200 tickets were sold, and there must have been at least 50 plates of salad set out for people who didn't come. (I sat at an 8-person table with a couple who live around the corner.) Another neighbor of ours has a pet pig, and I wish I'd had the nerve to ask the caterer to dump all those untouched salads into a bucket for Tilda Swineton (yes, the pig's name - isn't that great?).
The emcee of the evening was the only Democrat in Yancey County to win a seat (on the school board, possibly because he was a coach everybody knew). Probably because he's also a coach, we got - before every candidate introduction - a pep talk none of us needed, as everyone there was already planning to vote for the candidates there. The event began with Josh Stein, the man who will be the next governor of North Carolina (currently our Attorney General), but because of the endless pep talks, half the diners had bolted before it got down to the County Commissioner candidates. SAD. (Also sad that they did not provide butter for the dinner rolls; I murmured that Republicans probably would have had butter, but I'm the only one who thought that was funny.) The thing lasted 3 1/2 hours. Frankly, I was done caring after 2 hours. I didn't even watch MidSomer Murders when I got home; I went straight to bed.
Speaking of which, I started this Buttondown on Tuesday, and now it is officially Wednesday, so I shall retire.
Love, Lucy
PS. Now that we no longer have a real newspaper in Yancey County (no Letters to the Editor, no Readers Forum!), I am considering rejoining Facebook so I can get my opinions out there. However, I prefer we have the "fourth estate" in our lives; if any of you have the means and are so inclined, please consider the funding of a new newspaper (you get to name it!). There are a lot of excellent writers, journalists, editors, and proofreaders in Yancey County. Unfortunately, none of them are employed at the Yancey Common Times-Journal since Jody Higgins retired. This is an entirely selfish quest; I am a reader, not a clicker.