MRI - FYA

So, tonight I had my first MRI.

My doc took pity and sent me to an "open" MRI (I use the quotations because, if any of you have ever had an "open" MRI, you know this term is used loosely). Why open? Because I am psychotic and would totally FREAK OUT otherwise. So I got the "open" one. Whatever. You're still stuck in a tube.

We stopped and got a coffee for the ride, which was ridiculously stupid because I ended up peeing like 5 times while I was waiting, because I was afraid I'd have to pee once I got in the machine, and I was all fidgity and nervous. Which of course made me have to pee even more. AND I was told my tattoos might get a little warm inside the machine... What? WHY? Why would that be?

And why is it that when somebody tells you "OK, now DON'T MOVE. You can't move at all... do your very best to stay completely still; this will take about 20 minutes" all you want to do for the next 20 minutes is move? Everything twitches involuntarily, and you can't think about anything else BUT moving, and how totally uncomfortable you are being stuck inside a loud, banging, claustrophobic tube. It's all consuming. My Tube Time literally went something like this: 

- Oh, God, don't move. I can't move. I just moved. Are we going to have to do this sequence again? Oh, no - I can't do that; can't stay here that long. Close your eyes. Don't move, damn it - DON'T MOVE. Damn it, my foot just twitched. Did they see that? Oh, shit - there it goes again. God, WHY can't I stop twitching? How hard can it be to just stay still? OK, breathe. Relax. What? TWO more sequences to go? Oh, I'll never make it - I'm glad I peed like 14 times before I came in here. Maybe I shouldn't have peed. If I had to pee, I'd be thinking about how much I had to pee instead of about how hard it is not to move. Is that Van Halen I'm listening to? What? A double shot? Oh yeah - it's Two-fer Tuesday. Shit. David Lee Roth. Twice. Could be worse - it could be Barry Manilow. Actually, Copa Cabana would be kind of entertaining. Why am I getting so warm? Oh - right - the tattoos. They're bubbling under my skin. Bang. Rattle. Bang. Rattle. Whir. Whir. Whir. Wow - it's really loud. At least I can't hear the crappy Van Halen. Twitch. Shit - there it goes again...

And that, my friends, was my MRI, in a nutshell. Aren't you glad you tuned in?

Expecto Patronum

Apparently, my addiction to Harry Potter knows no bounds...

My hidden Harry Potter Patronus is: Unicorn

Reveal Your Ridden Harry-Pottery Patronus today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

Weekend Fun

We spent most of the weekend at the beach, relaxing and soaking up the sun. Here are a few photos of the mayhem:

What a face. What a ham!

Not as good as K's glamour shots, but still cute...

splish splash! She was SO wet and sandy after this...

peek!

We also have a couple of new shots of Bodie, who is now 15 weeks old and 30+ pounds. We'll never get tired of fur-baby photos, so get used to 'em!

A rare moment of cooperation...

A rare moment of cuddles...

Tomorrow we're off to Storyland with L, so I'll hopefully have plenty of fun photos - as long as we don't have Cranky Child tomorrow! We're overdue, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed...

Konnichiwa

This is a fun little language tool... find out what your Japanese name is!

My authentic japanese name is 飯野 Iino (rice plains) 久美子 Kumiko (eternal beautiful child).
Take your real japanese name generator! today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

'Nuff Said.

Bush Tours America To Survey Damage Caused By His Disastrous Presidency

Messy Situation

Why is it that things like coffee stains and spaghetti sauce always seem to find their way to a prominent spot on a white shirt?

Ticks Suck.

Literally. Figuratively. However you want to look at it. Ticks suck. In more ways than you can possibly imagine. Unless, like me, you're unlucky enough to have become intimately acquainted with the creepy-crawly little parasites and the plethora of nasties that they carry. Then you have plenty of frightening thoughts with which your imagination can run wild. Living with Lyme Disease is one thing. I've come to accept the fact that I live in a Hot Zone and will have to forever choose between having toxic chemicals sprayed on my property 4 times each summer, and the filthy little blood-sucking bastards that carry any number of hideous and nasty diseases. I understand that I will most likely be taking weirdly-named Chinese herbs for an unspecified amount of time without ever truly having a way of knowing whether or not the Lyme has been obliterated. I accept that it's causing black holes in my brain that words and numbers and thoughts are getting sucked into on a daily basis, never to be heard from again. OK. That's one thing. But now, it would appear, I may also have a raging case of Babesiosis. Or, as I call it, somewhat jokingly, The Babes.

Of course, it's not really a case of the Babes. Hardly. That's not something I've ever REALLY been accused of being. Far from it. It isn't pronounced BABES-ee-O-sis (although I think it's funnier that way). It's Buh-BEE-see-O-sis. (I wonder if "Oh-BEE-see-O-sis" is also confirmed medical condition? Because I also have THAT). And, as luck would have it, it's potentially fatal. Well, fabulous!

Now, how would one go about finding out if one actually has a dreaded case of the Babes? Well, let me tell you. It involves an additional $250 blood test (different than the one for Lyme) at another independent laboratory that the Super Duper Insurance Company will not cover. And, if it turns out that yes, indeed, you do have a raging case of the Babes, well, Babesia is a protozoan, not a spirochete, so your original dose of Lyme drugs wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't kill it. So... you guessed it. You also need another round of antibiotics. As if four months of the stuff followed by 6 months of EXTREMELY expensive Chinese herbal supplements (also not covered by said SDIC) weren't enough. Come on. My birth control has been screwed up for MONTHS already.

If you take any advice from this at all, all joking aside: if you live ANYWHERE in northern New England, from Maine to Connecticut, or even Rhode Island, (or anywhere with ticks, for that matter) and you get bit by a tick, pluck it out, keep it, and take it to a LYME LITERATE doctor. If you can't find one, take it to a vet. They will be able to tell you if it's a deer tick or a dog tick. Deer ticks are the ones that carry Lyme, but dog ticks carry Babesiosis and Erlichia as well as other creepy diseases that are difficult to diagnose. Get treated if you need to. Don't mess around with it. Don't take it if the doctor blows you off. INSIST you get tested. Your best shot is to catch it early and treat it quickly.

And DON'T let them tell you there's no need to worry because there aren't ticks in your area. Bullshit. If you have deer, you probably have ticks. Period. End of story. And if you have bird feeders, then you have chipmunks and mice and squirrels who are like giant, furry charter buses bringing them right to your front door free of charge. Don't feed your birds in the summer. And understand that nymph ticks, which are just as capable of transmitting disease as adult ticks, can be no bigger than a speck of sand or the tip of a sharpened pencil. And that bulls-eye rash they talk about as being a tell-tale sign of Lyme infection? Don't count on it. A lot of people don't get one, or don't see it if they get bit in an inconspicuous area like the hairline or the back of the leg. I didn't have one. Neither did Mark. If you're in long grass or the woods, check yourself, check everyone else, and do it often. If you're in a Hot Zone like me, check yourself every time you go outside. I picked up a tick in my brother-in-law's gravel driveway a couple of weeks ago. One bite is all it takes.

I told you. Ticks SUCK.

I Am the World

After a trip to Hello, Melissa's blog and taking a walk back in time to her 2006 blogs, I discovered this little test that determines what type of tarot card a person is based on answers to a series of questions. M is the High Priestess. I am, apparently, The World. What are you? (The cervix through which everything is born? Eew!)

You are the World

Completion, Good Reward.

The World is the final card of the Major Arcana, and as such represents saturnian energies, time, and completion.

The World card pictures a dancer in a Yoni (sometimes made of laurel leaves). The Yoni symbolizes the great Mother, the cervix through which everything is born, and also the doorway to the next life after death. It is indicative of a complete circle. Everything is finally coming together, successfully and at last. You will get that Ph.D. you've been working for years to complete, graduate at long last, marry after a long engagement, or finish that huge project. This card is not for little ends, but for big ones, important ones, ones that come with well earned cheers and acknowledgements. Your hard work, knowledge, wisdom, patience, etc, will absolutely pay-off; you've done everything right.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

The Long and Winding Road

This is the journal entry from our first day on the trail. The first entry appears below this one.

9/2/07 - Day 1!

Mileage: 8.6

Starting Elevation: 9200 feet

Highest Elevation: 11,875 feet

Ending Elevation: around 8600 feet

The day started early - up at 6, breakfast at the motel by 7:30. H & P had a home-cooked meal waiting for us, then P drove us to the Onion Valley Trailhead around 8:15. We finished packing all of our gear last night - we shipped a ton of it ahead so we didn't have to check it on the plane, and it was patiently waiting for us in our rooms when we arrived. We were on trail by 8:45 - the parking lot was completely full. Lots of day hikers. The weather forecast for the week is fabulous - not a drop of rain in sight. Not a cloud in the sky, which meant it was HOT. Don't know the temp, but the sun was unrelenting. There isn't much shade on a good portion of the trail, so we savored every little bit we could find. The packs were heavy, and so were our feet. Needless to say, progress was slow - about a mile an hour from the trailhead to Kearsarge Pass. About an hour or so into the hike, we were fairly discouraged to discover we still had a perfect view of the parking lot.

Start of the Kearsarge Pass Trail at Onion Valley

However, we continued to plug along at our snail's pace, feeling the elevation almost immediately. The trailhead sits at 9200 feet, and it's a steady gain to the pass at 11,875. For a couple of flatlanders from sea level, this causes a problem. We were definitely sucking wind. The trail itself though is fantastic - mostly a well-worn dirt path. Certainly nothing like the boulder-strewn, root-infested, ankle-twisting, knee-crushing "you call this a trail?" trails of the northeast. It was hot - so hot - but it was hard to pay any mind at all to the temperature with the scenery that we were blessed with along the way. It's like nothing we've ever seen before. The trail passes several alpine lakes that are just as blue as can be. We stopped at Heart Lake for lunch, which is, fittingly, shaped just like a heart. We were treated to a fun little demonstration of the altitude, as a woman we were chatting with pulled out a bag of Whoppers that was nearly bursting at it's seams due to the change in air pressure.

Mark on the trail up to Kearsarge Pass, near Heart Lake

Just part of the scenery!

Above Heart Lake, we climbed a few switchbacks and popped up over a rocky lip and for the first time saw Kearsarge Pass. And kind of said, "Oh, shit." This was around 11,000 feet, and we were really starting to feel the elevation at this point. There was no shade from this point on, and it was a very discouraging vantage point. We could see the pass, and just barely make out the long, winding switchbacks that climbed steadily up to the pass. The switchbacks are long and completely exposed. And on those switchbacks were teeny tiny little dots advancing like little ants - the people ahead of us on the trail that were rightly kicking our butts. We huffed and puffed and huffed and puffed and stopped and ate and drank all the way up the last 875 feet. I had to stop once due to dizziness, but we finally, FINALLY made it. And I have no words to describe the view that awaited us when we walked up over that pass. It just opened up into tall, rocky spires, blue lakes and green valleys. It was perfectly clear, and the Kearsarge Pinnacles were just gorgeous. We could see where we had to go - all the way down to Bullfrog Lake. We stopped at the top and took in the views. We ate some cheese and crackers, and ran into a couple from the Mt. Williamson Motel that we had seen at breakfast.

View toward Kearsarge Pass 

View of Kearsarge Pinnacles, Kearsarge Lakes and Bullfrog Lake (in the distance)

from Kearsarge Pass

After a much needed rest, we left the day hikers at the pass and headed down into the valley, thankful for some downhill action. This portion went relatively quickly because the trail was in great shape and we were psyched to be in new territory. Mark wasn't feeling well at this point - he had a headache, and the cheese and crackers made him sick. I don't think he kept hydrated enough - and the sun plus the altitude just pummeled him. We had a little trail confusion down near the lakes, but managed to muddle through and finally made it to Bullfrog Lake, where we stopped to refill our water supply. We had some pretty nasty looking clouds roll in while at the lake (no camping allowed here), and thought we might get a storm but it blew right past.

View from Bullfrog Lake

After filling up our water we continued on the trail toward the JMT junction, then headed south. We stopped when we came out to an overlook of Vidette Meadows and took some video and pictures. From there it was 1.2 miles to Lower Vidette where we are camped now, approximately 7 miles from Forester Pass. Tomorrow will be very tough - even more so than today. Mark is lying down in the tent, trying to get rid of his headache. I feel fine. I have a headache, but it's from hunger. I'm STARVED. Shepherd's pie for dinner tonight. We can have a camp fire here, because it's below 10,000 feet, but it will be our last chance for one on the trail. So tonight we're toasting marshmallows! Then everything in the bear canisters. No rain fly tonight - clear skies, millions of stars. The stupid satellite phone won't work - I can't get a signal here. How great is that? It's absolutely beautiful out here. I feel much better about this after today. I was very apprehensive. Tomorrow will take us up over 13,000 feet so elevation will definitely be a factor. No wildlife to speak of yet - just chipmunks and birds.

Taking a break above Vidette Meadows

Just For Fun

While I have some free time, I thought I'd post some entries from the journal I kept while hiking in the Sierras last September. I've been meaning to get them transferred from paper to the Land of Digital, but it hasn't happened until now. Hope you enjoy reading about our trip, and seeing some of the photos that correspond to what's written.

8/31/07 - 9/1/07

Our flight was delayed in Cleveland, so we didn't get to the hotel until 1 am Vegas time - 4 am East Coast Time. Note to self: Don't EVER stay at the Sahara, ever, ever again. It's one of the cheapest on the strip for a reason. Talk about your typical seedy, smoke-filled, Vegas cheese-fest. The lights in the room didn't work, which was probably a good thing - it prevented us from seeing just how awful the room actually was. But we didn't care - we were exhausted. Afraid of what was lurking under the covers, I opted to sleep on top of the bed. Until I came to the conclusion that the sheets were more likely to be washed than the cover. So I reluctantly crawled in and crashed.

We were up early, though - 7 am. Called my mom to let her know we were OK, and headed to the buffet breakfast at the hotel which stayed with us most of the day. Hopped in the rental car and were on the road by 9:30 am. We have a blue Subaru Outback which is brand new and awesome. It was already hot in Vegas. I don't think it's ever NOT hot in Vegas. It was hot at 1 am when we got there. We cruised south on the strip to check things out and then hit 160 west toward the mountains and Death Valley. What an incredible drive. "Watch for burros and wild horses in roadway." That's not a sign you see in northern New England! Nope - in Maine it's a yellow sign with a big picture of a moose on it... No words, just a picture of something you don't want to be unlucky enough to run into at 70 miles an hour. But I think our favorite sign was the one for the Death Valley Health Center. Delightfully ironic.

We couldn't get over the scenery. Mountains upon mountains, miles and miles of... nothing. No buildings, no towns, no rescue. Neither Mark nor I have been out this way before, so this is totally new to us. Death Valley was wild - incredibly beautiful, incredibly brutal. It's hard to believe that it is a place where wildflowers flourish in the spring. It's hard to imagine anything surviving there. Our temp topped out at 114 degrees at an altitude of -190. Ironically, the signs warn you to turn off the AC to avoid overheating. Us, or the car? Tanks of radiator water are plentiful in the area.

We stopped at Zabriskie Point for the obligatory touristy photo-op and then headed to Furnace Creek Ranch for lunch at the Corkscrew Saloon. A frosty Sam Adams and a sandwich totally hit the spot. Dave, the bartender, chatted our ears off and drew us several fine napkin maps of the local secrets and cool views that the "tourists" don't know about. We thanked him profusely, and promptly decided that we weren't up for an hour and a half hike in 114 degree heat. And yeah - the "it's a dry heat" thing? It's a crock.

Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park

We swung into the little general store after lunch and bought ice cream sandwiches which literally melted all over us before we could get to the car. Back on the road, we headed west past the only actual sand dunes in the park, and eventually caught our first breathtaking glimpse of the Eastern Sierras. WOW. It's like a huge wall of rock that rises straight out of the desert floor. We rolled into Lone Pine at about 3:30 and stopped at the ranger station to pick up our permits - were told of an active bear in the Wallace Creek area and were advised to steer clear. It was also recommended that we not leave our vehicle at Whitney Portal, which we had planned to do - apparently the bears have taken to tearing apart cars at random - not just because they've discovered a tasty morsel. So, the very nice folks at the Mt. Williamson Motel are graciously letting us leave our car here for the week. Paul, one of the owners, will be our ride to the trailhead, so we'll give him a jingle when we come off trail and he'll come pick us up. Perfect! The Onion Valley Trailhead, our starting point, is here in Independence, which is about 24 road miles north of Lone Pine. The Mt. Williamson Motel is just a hop and a skip from the road to the trailhead - but it's around 15 miles and 5,000 feet of elevation gain to get there. We'll drive up there in the morning to check out conditions at the starting line.

Our home away from home - Cottage No. 5!

Sunrise - alpenglow on Mt. Williamson as seen from our motel

Independence and Lone Pine are small, sleepy towns - but the people are wonderfully warm and welcoming. The views here are to die for. We drove up to Whitney Portal tonight to check things out - got our first close-up of the mountain itself. Photos can't do it justice - it is imposing, and it's distinct profile can't be missed. I can't believe in just two days we'll be hoofing it towards the top. The Portal is just over 8,300 feet - and we could really feel the elevation. Back in Lone Pine it was HOT - well into the 90s. At the Portal it was around 70 - a huge temperature difference. Lots of people there - camping, fishing, hanging out. The drive up to the Portal is an adventure in itself - that a road was actually built out here is an amazing feat. This is going to be an incredible hike.

Mt. Whitney from Whitney Portal Road

Cake is for Wussies

Yesterday was Mark's birthday, and we spent Friday night at the beach with my mom to celebrate. Our Fourth of July celebration consisted of pizza, beer, and front row seats to a tented, catered party in the yard next door complete with lobster, a campfire and patriotic songs. By nine o'clock, the festivities were in full swing with loud and terrifically off-key renditions of "Dinah Blow Your Horn" and "Glory, Glory Halleluiah." Groan. Double groan. I couldn't drink enough to drown out the horror.

No fireworks this year. Patriots in New England? HA!. See, we have Piping Plovers on our beaches. Piping Plovers are endangered. Fireworks bring crowds. Crowds frighten Piping Plovers. So the towns have decided that a twenty-minute fireworks display ON A BARGE, IN THE OCEAN will equal the extinction of the piping plover due to the crowds that will converge on the beach. Now, don't get me wrong. I am all for conservation and saving a cute little bird who is on it's last legs on the planet. Seriously. I don't want that to sound glib and insincere. Anyone who knows me knows I am a huge supporter of environmental and wildlife causes. What I don't like is the bullshit that's fed to everyone by the towns. If protecting the Piping Plover were really the top priority, they would be closing the beaches permanently, all day, every day. But they don't do that. There are crowds by the thousands on the beaches every single day, with unleashed dogs and unruly children - both serious dangers to the Piping Plover. But, alas, these hordes of people are the Wealthy from Away, bringing their coveted recession-proof bank books with them to their McMansions on the coast, so we can't possibly keep them from going to the beach now, can we? So cut the bull. If you're going to save the Plover, save the Plover. Don't just use it as a crutch to get out of spending a little cash on your country's Independence Day celebration. Many thanks to the raucous few who braved being taken down by the two-wheeled beach cops on their expensive Gary Fisher mountain bikes (frivolously bought with taxpayer money) by smuggling some top-shelf Chinese contraband into the state and providing some semblance of a display on the beach. You are the true patriots!

There. That feels better. Sorry for the tirade - it's been annoying me. AND I've completely gotten off the subject. Mark's birthday. Well, he decided he didn't want a traditional birthday cake this year - he wanted a giant whoopie pie. An enormous, FIVE POUND whoopie pie. Apparently, cake is for wussies. And, apparently, whoopie pies do not count as cake. They are not called whoopie cakes. They are whoopie pies. Pie is not the same as cake. I about died when it arrived and we took it out of the box. Here's a peek at how ginormous this thing actually was.

We ordered it from a company right here in Maine that makes these "little" gems, so if you're interested it's www.wickedwhoopie.com. It's pretty insane, but they're insanely good. And insanely bad - for your waistline and overall health, anyway...  YUM. Sometimes it's SO good to be bad. 

And yes, Hurricane Bodie is still going strong. My house is an obstacle course of dismembered and disembodied toys, chewed up shoes, shredded magazines and the like. At the moment, every last toy that was in his toy basket is strewn all over the floor, the basket is tipped on it's side, and he's SLEEPING (thankfully) behind it. Here are a couple of new photos of the little beast!

Kota is doing well, too. Sort of. He is still doing everything in his power to avoid Bodie. Avoid, ignore, dismiss, whatever you want to call it. It's like putting your fingers in  your ears, closing your eyes, saying "la la la la" and praying that when you open your eyes whatever was there is gone and was only a horrifying figment of your imagination. Sorry, Kota. We love you, we really do...