The past two weeks have hit me like a steam roller. First, everyone had the stomach flu. Then Michael left town on business for a week -- more work at Johnson Space Center. Then we had Cassie's fifth birthday (the day Michael left) and of course I had to plan a party. I am one of those moms that refuses to do a huge party where Cassie can invite all of her little classmates from preschool. I don't have the time or energy to invest in that sort of 3-ring circus, and quite frankly, I hate those sorts of parties anyway. I don't know any of the other moms of Cassie's classmates. I live in an entirely different world from these people. I've been to a couple of the parties they've thrown for their kids and quite frankly, I've either felt like a complete outsider (a feeling I should be used to, but still don't enjoy) or else I feel overwhelmingly disgusted by the sheer excess of a party thrown for a four- or five-year-old that involves an inflatable moonwalk, an over-priced magician, some clown doing balloon animals, face painting, a five-tiered cake, pony rides, and a visit from Spiderman/Sponge Bob/Dora the Explorer. Cassie would love to have a party like that, but you know what? I can't afford it, time or money-wise, and I think that kind of excess for a kid's party is just a really bad idea. Birthday parties should be spent with family and close friends. They should be a celebration of life, not a gift grab. My girl got presents all week long anyway, and I swear her grandmother knows no limits on sending presents. On her birthday, Cassie received more Barbie dolls in one day than I ever owned in my entire life. Yep, she got five Barbies... IN JUST ONE DAY. A bit much, neh?
But we did have a party, and though it was a small affair, it was just big enough to nearly kill me. Since my birthday was Saturday, the same day as Cassie's party, I decided to do two cakes. Cassie wanted this princess cake from one of her kids' cook books, and I thought that would have been too small to feed all the guests (but in hindsight it probably would have been just right). So I decided to do a cake for me as well. The only problem was, I had almost no time to do it in. Cassie wanted to help make both cakes, and while I am not huge on over-indulgent parties, I am big on mommy-daughter bonding activities, and cooking is one of them. So I set up a schedule that a) allowed Cassie to participate in the making, baking, and decorating of both cakes, and b) nearly insured that we had no cakes at all in time for the party. See, she could only help me when she was awake, and given our hectic schedule the previous week (remember, Michael was away), my free time during her waking hours was just about nil. I actually got up at 5AM on Saturday morning, the day OF the party, to bake my own cake. Then Cassie got up around 7:30, and by 9:30 we were all dressed and ready to make her cake. Unfortunately, we needed to leave the house at 10:30 to meet people at the Virginia Living Museum for a pre-party play date, and one hour just ain't enough time to bake and frost a cake.
We did get the cake baked, but then when I tried to remove the layers from the pans before racing out the door to the museum, the bottom layer split, in half, horizontally. Imagine the swearing that accompanied that event. Then double it, because by that point, I was ready to tear out my hair and someone else's.
Fortunately, Michael was home by then, although he had to go to VIRTUS training for the Catholic church. Boy, was I swearing about that too. Of all the mornings to not be available to help, that was a baaaaaad one to pick. I let him know that later. What made it worse was the fact that he did not get home from his business trip until almost midnight the night before, so I only got to see him for five minutes the next morning before he headed out for the church. But he did get home before the party started and he did manage to fix and frost Cassie's birthday cake, and he ordered all the pizzas, so we did manage to pull off the party, and Cassie enjoyed it even if we didn't hire Ringling Brothers to provide the entertainment.
My biggest disappointment over all this is the fact that all I can remember of the weekend is all the swearing and shouting I was doing, and the momentous struggle I felt like I was going through to make things happen. The same damned thing happened over Christmas -- illness, business trips, too much work, not enough sleep -- and the holidays were gone like that. I didn't get to enjoy Christmas, and to be honest, I didn't get to enjoy my birthday either. I had a brief period where I got to enjoy Cassie's birthday, but that was only after all the screaming and ranting were over and we were in the middle of the party. The whole mother-daughter bonding while baking thing just added to the stress, so I didn't even enjoy that like I thought I should have.
So what to do? Obviously, things are out of control here at la casa de Madden. I've got too much work, not enough time, not enough sleep, and Michael will be heading out on even more business trips in the upcoming months. It's killing me, and I need to find a way to slow things down. But it's going to take some effort.
The first step will be to clear some of this work off my desk. I'm proofing one book, writing another, putting together three art commissions, putting together articles for ERWA and doing the podcast. Plus I need to work on promoting my writing, and I've got EPIC VA events to coordinate. That's a lot of work. I need to winnow it down, and then I need to not take on anything else for a while.
I wonder if it will ever really slow down though. I've already been approached to do some artwork for a major website, and I've got some conventions coming up that I'll be participating in. And I don't want to turn away paying work or promotion opportunities. I'm going to have to make a decision soon on how to handle all this. Cassie is going to be home this summer before starting kindergarten, and I don't want the entire summer to steam roll over us the way our birthdays did.
Archive for the ‘Life and stuff’ Category
Now We Are Thirty-Nine
Tuesday, February 26th, 2008I Love Socks!
Friday, February 15th, 2008
In the course of revamping my wardrobe, I have developed a thing for socks. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I never had cool socks growing up. Yes, I know, I was badly deprived as a child. So anyway, I found a couple of websites that sell really cool socks, including Sock Dreams and The Joy Of Socks. So far, I've got sushi socks, cappuccino socks, mermaid socks, dragon socks, koi fish socks, red and white stripy socks, and a pair of really neat red knee highs with a skull and cross bones print that almost looks like an argyle pattern.
I also got some very nice sneakers from Onmyodo Online. White creeper style with a Japanese rising sun and pink cherry blossom stitched onto them. Too cool!
Yeah, I know. Aren't there more important things I should be talking about, besides my footwear?
Well, I am on a quest for new undies...
I also got some very nice sneakers from Onmyodo Online. White creeper style with a Japanese rising sun and pink cherry blossom stitched onto them. Too cool!
Yeah, I know. Aren't there more important things I should be talking about, besides my footwear?
Well, I am on a quest for new undies...
Freaky Fruits and Swimming Suits!
Saturday, February 2nd, 2008
Ha ha! Look at that title. I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!
Ah hmm. Seriously though, we've had an interesting week. Michael left Tuesday for a training course in Houston, abandoning-- er, I mean leaving me with the kids. My knee is doing much better, so I was mostly able to keep up, but after a week on my own with those demon spawn, I am wiped out.
First thing we did after Michael left was hit the grocery store. Michael does all the grocery shopping, so I always use his trips as an excuse to buy the stuff **I** want. I didn't get much, just some fruit and side dishes that I knew he'd never in a million years pick up (curried veggies, anyone?). Cassie saw a star fruit in the produce section and immediately decided she had to have one. It just looked so freaky, but not nearly as freaky as the horned melon. If you've never seen either of these fruits, the star fruit looks like a banana sort of thingie with a star cross-section (in other words, if you slice it into pieces, you get lots of star shaped slices), while the horned melon looks like something Jacques Cousteau picked up off the bottom of a coral reef. It's a sort of neon orange see-slug thing. Or maybe it's a sea cucumber. Or are sea cucumbers actually a sort of sea slug? Who knows? It was orange, spiny, oblong and freaky and Cassie had to have it, and since **I've** never had one either, we got it.
I served the star fruit that night. It tasted... odd. Not really sweet, and not really tart. Sort of like weak kiwi flavored gelatin. The star fruit is yellow on the outside and yellowish on the inside. Cassie spent all of dinner telling me how much she just **loved** star fruit after only taking one bite of it. And that was the only bite she took. I had to finish the rest of the damned thing off. Blech.
The horned melon was very different though. It was freaky inside and out. On the inside, it's neon yellow-green, with sections like a pomegranate. Little round fleshy pods wrapped around a tiny seed. It tasted pretty good, definitely more like kiwi, but with a big juicy squish every time I bit into it. Both Cassie and Sam ate a couple of piece once they got over the color.
Ah, color. I never get enough of it in my life, and here's where we now talk about swimming suits. Since screwing up my knee the other week, I've gone back to swimming. In fact, I've decided just to forget about running and swim as much as I can. I'll be in the pool four days a week it looks like, but until yesterday, I only had one swim suit. So I ordered two more from Swimoutlet.com. I went with their grab bag option. Grab bag swim suits are $26 a piece instead of the usual $40. The only catch is THEY get to pick the color. You pick the size and the style, but THEY pick the color. The grab bag suits are all the colors that didn't sell the previous year, and now that I've got my two new suits, I can kind of see why. One of those suits isn't bad - it's a hot fluorescent pink and orange print that sort of looks like a 1960's acid trip. But the other suit... oh man, the other suit is a reversible suit. One side is Grape Ape purple and the other side is **lime green**. Both colors are eye-blinding.
But hey, for $26, it's not a bad suit.
Right?
Ah hmm. Seriously though, we've had an interesting week. Michael left Tuesday for a training course in Houston, abandoning-- er, I mean leaving me with the kids. My knee is doing much better, so I was mostly able to keep up, but after a week on my own with those demon spawn, I am wiped out.
First thing we did after Michael left was hit the grocery store. Michael does all the grocery shopping, so I always use his trips as an excuse to buy the stuff **I** want. I didn't get much, just some fruit and side dishes that I knew he'd never in a million years pick up (curried veggies, anyone?). Cassie saw a star fruit in the produce section and immediately decided she had to have one. It just looked so freaky, but not nearly as freaky as the horned melon. If you've never seen either of these fruits, the star fruit looks like a banana sort of thingie with a star cross-section (in other words, if you slice it into pieces, you get lots of star shaped slices), while the horned melon looks like something Jacques Cousteau picked up off the bottom of a coral reef. It's a sort of neon orange see-slug thing. Or maybe it's a sea cucumber. Or are sea cucumbers actually a sort of sea slug? Who knows? It was orange, spiny, oblong and freaky and Cassie had to have it, and since **I've** never had one either, we got it.
I served the star fruit that night. It tasted... odd. Not really sweet, and not really tart. Sort of like weak kiwi flavored gelatin. The star fruit is yellow on the outside and yellowish on the inside. Cassie spent all of dinner telling me how much she just **loved** star fruit after only taking one bite of it. And that was the only bite she took. I had to finish the rest of the damned thing off. Blech.
The horned melon was very different though. It was freaky inside and out. On the inside, it's neon yellow-green, with sections like a pomegranate. Little round fleshy pods wrapped around a tiny seed. It tasted pretty good, definitely more like kiwi, but with a big juicy squish every time I bit into it. Both Cassie and Sam ate a couple of piece once they got over the color.
Ah, color. I never get enough of it in my life, and here's where we now talk about swimming suits. Since screwing up my knee the other week, I've gone back to swimming. In fact, I've decided just to forget about running and swim as much as I can. I'll be in the pool four days a week it looks like, but until yesterday, I only had one swim suit. So I ordered two more from Swimoutlet.com. I went with their grab bag option. Grab bag swim suits are $26 a piece instead of the usual $40. The only catch is THEY get to pick the color. You pick the size and the style, but THEY pick the color. The grab bag suits are all the colors that didn't sell the previous year, and now that I've got my two new suits, I can kind of see why. One of those suits isn't bad - it's a hot fluorescent pink and orange print that sort of looks like a 1960's acid trip. But the other suit... oh man, the other suit is a reversible suit. One side is Grape Ape purple and the other side is **lime green**. Both colors are eye-blinding.
But hey, for $26, it's not a bad suit.
Right?
Real People Wear Fashion Too!
Monday, January 28th, 2008
Imagine that, real people wear fashion because we're tired of looking at stick figures on the catwalk. Who'd have thunk it?
Rise Of the Real People | Newsweek Culture | Newsweek.com
I so need to update my wardrobe...
Rise Of the Real People | Newsweek Culture | Newsweek.com
I so need to update my wardrobe...
Eek! I Just Bought Some Clothes!
Friday, January 25th, 2008
I don't believe it. I just bought some new boots, a new belt, a new swimsuit and a digital timer on Amazon. I'm freaking out! I spent around $100 for the whole lot, which isn't bad considering what I could have spent, but still, $100! I hate buying clothes. No, wait, I hate spending money. I actually like buying clothes, so long as I'm doing it online. I hate shopping in malls, especially with the kids in tow, because I can never get anything done. But I'm all right with buying clothes, until I get to the money part.
But, I need new clothes. I need another swimsuit, especially after blowing out my knee last night. It's going to be a long time before I can run, so it's back to swimming three times a week, and we may just stay there for a good, so I'll have to get another swimsuit in addition to the one I got. And I needed the shoes. All I've got is sneakers, sandals and hiking boots. What I got was ankle boots, which are a little dressier but great with jeans. And I've been wanting a belt for some time, just a little accessory to dress up my wardrobe. The one I got is black leather with pink skulls. How cool is that!
And the timer? It'll go on a lanyard around my neck (probably the ultra-cool Pirates of the Caribbean one Rachel got me for Christmas). I'll be using it to force me to stick to my schedule, so I don't run too long and screw up everything that's supposed to come after. I tend to do that.
In fact, I'm running too long now. Gotta get back to work.
But EEEEEK! I bought clothing! Holy cow!
But, I need new clothes. I need another swimsuit, especially after blowing out my knee last night. It's going to be a long time before I can run, so it's back to swimming three times a week, and we may just stay there for a good, so I'll have to get another swimsuit in addition to the one I got. And I needed the shoes. All I've got is sneakers, sandals and hiking boots. What I got was ankle boots, which are a little dressier but great with jeans. And I've been wanting a belt for some time, just a little accessory to dress up my wardrobe. The one I got is black leather with pink skulls. How cool is that!
And the timer? It'll go on a lanyard around my neck (probably the ultra-cool Pirates of the Caribbean one Rachel got me for Christmas). I'll be using it to force me to stick to my schedule, so I don't run too long and screw up everything that's supposed to come after. I tend to do that.
In fact, I'm running too long now. Gotta get back to work.
But EEEEEK! I bought clothing! Holy cow!
Techmen, Oh Techmen
Wednesday, April 18th, 2007
There is probably nothing useful I can add to what’s already been said about the shootings at Virginia Tech. Michael and I are both Virginia Tech graduates. We met at Tech, fell in love there, and must have invited half the campus to our wedding. I was a member of the Corps of Cadet all four years and was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Army Reserves when I graduated. Michael graduated a semester ahead of me with a BS in aerospace engineering, and was so good his department paid for him to come back for his master’s degree. A lot of our lives, a lot of our relationship and marriage is tied up in Virginia Tech.
I can only shake my head in sad wonder at what happened on Monday. Thirty-three students dead, including the shooter. Why? I’m sure we’ll never really know. But I know this day will haunt us all for a long time, and I’m sure many will remember it as they send their children off to college in the years to come. I know I will.
To the grieving, I offer my condolences.
I can only shake my head in sad wonder at what happened on Monday. Thirty-three students dead, including the shooter. Why? I’m sure we’ll never really know. But I know this day will haunt us all for a long time, and I’m sure many will remember it as they send their children off to college in the years to come. I know I will.
To the grieving, I offer my condolences.
Hair Today…
Wednesday, December 13th, 2006
Did I mention I cut off eight inches of my hair over the weekend? I got tired of Sam ripping it out by the double handfuls.
Life Sucks, But Being Cranky Is Good
Thursday, September 28th, 2006
Having a cold sucks.
Having a broken toe sucks, too.
Being 37 and having someone tell you that you have arthritis in both knees really sucks.
Trying to take care of a baby and a preschooler who both have colds while suffering through your own cold is major suckage, especially when you stub your broken toe while trying to take care of your arthritic knees.
Finding out that being cranky means you’re smart is kind of cool though.
Okay, that’s not exactly what this article says, but still, it goes to show that cynicism pays. Now please excuse me while I tend to my snuffling baby and my (re)broken toe.
***
Here’s the latest artwork. I sort of copied the pose from a book on drawing manga, but the details of the figure are all mine. I’m going to flesh this out over the next week or so, adding hair and costuming, then work out a background setting for the character. When it’s done, I think I’ll take it into Corel Photopaint and digitally paint it. Not sure what the final product will look like, but so far it looks good to me.
Standing Figure, WIP, 28 September 2006
Having a broken toe sucks, too.
Being 37 and having someone tell you that you have arthritis in both knees really sucks.
Trying to take care of a baby and a preschooler who both have colds while suffering through your own cold is major suckage, especially when you stub your broken toe while trying to take care of your arthritic knees.
Finding out that being cranky means you’re smart is kind of cool though.
Okay, that’s not exactly what this article says, but still, it goes to show that cynicism pays. Now please excuse me while I tend to my snuffling baby and my (re)broken toe.
***
Here’s the latest artwork. I sort of copied the pose from a book on drawing manga, but the details of the figure are all mine. I’m going to flesh this out over the next week or so, adding hair and costuming, then work out a background setting for the character. When it’s done, I think I’ll take it into Corel Photopaint and digitally paint it. Not sure what the final product will look like, but so far it looks good to me.
Standing Figure, WIP, 28 September 2006
The Origins Of Cynical Woman
Wednesday, September 20th, 2006
I have a secret to confess. I am not the original Cynical Woman.
Are you shocked? Don’t be. Cynical Woman is a title I inherited/borrowed from a friend of mine way back when. Many, many, many moons ago, I was a young college student studying communications at Virginia Tech. I was also a cadet and an ROTC scholarship student, but those are miseries we’ll discuss in later entries. As I was saying, I was a young Hokie working hard on my degree and in desperate need of a social life. Being the geek/freak that I am, I joined VTSFC, the Virginia Tech Science Fiction Club, and proceeded to meet a wild assortment of characters, including a charming young woman named Joelle. I do not use the word charming lightly. Joelle originally haled from Atlanta, Georgia, and was as close to a Southern Belle as anyone I’ve ever met. She had style, grace, good manners and enough attitude to power all five computers currently running in this house, which is funny because computers and Joelle never really did get along.
So I met Joelle and we very quickly became good friends. She was working on her master’s degree in entomology, the study of bugs, and did cool things like make pets out of giant Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches (while still maintaining that wonderful Southern Belle attitude). Unfortunately for Joelle, life was not always easy. I think she had more than her fair share of bumps trying to get through grad school. She was supporting herself and paying for all her courses, which often stretched her finances thin. She worked an assortment of jobs to make ends meet, and did them all very well, but usually only got paid crap for them. She rented a small room in an apartment that was quite frequently mistaken for a landfill. Her room was clean, but the rest of the place was a dump. And she had problems with friends who turned out to not be friends, thesis advisors who stabbed her in the back, etc., etc., etc. I won’t go into too many details because a lot of it is quite personal and much of it is not pleasant, but I will say that Joelle survived in spite of all the garbage that was dumped on her by her graduate department, minimum wage jobs, and assorted aggravating room mates and faux friends. In fact, she did quite well, although there was always something coming up to cause her trouble even after she graduated and moved on to bigger and better things.
Through much of this, I had the pleasure of being one of Joelle’s friends. I can remember several lunches, usually held as some fine but affordable dining establishment located somewhere in Blacksburg, where we’d sit and discuss our woes (I had my own problems with being a cadet and an ROTC scholarship student, but again, we’ll save that for later). What I remember best is that after detailing her latest crisis, Joelle always said the same thing. “You know Helen, just when I think things are going well and everything is wonderful, something really crappy happens, and then Cynical Woman raises her ugly head and says ‘I told you so!’”
And that’s where Cynical Woman came from. It wasn’t until a few years later that I myself started to use those same words. “And then Cynical Woman raises her ugly head...” By then, I was dealing with my own crappy minimum wage jobs, assorted aggravating room mates and faux friends and I so totally understood what Joelle meant. You think things are going okay and you start to feel happy and kind of nice and then life jumps up and bits you in the ass. Only the way Joelle said it sounded so much nicer. Cynical Woman. It just had a nice ring to it, so I adopted the title and developed the persona to go with it. And I have to admit, being Cynical Woman has served me pretty well these last few years, especially when my life has been at its worst. Anytime I’ve been hip deep in agony, I’ve always been surrounded by a bunch of Pollyannas who try to tell me that life is great, things are going to get better, God has a plan for me, etc., etc. Well I know better. Life isn’t always great. Many times it down right sucks, and I’d much rather be Cynical Woman and know that life is going to hand me crap than be all perky and obliviously happy and then get kicked in the teeth when things go bad. Some people think that’s a horrible attitude to have, but I say it’s realistic, and being realistic means I’m always prepared for when things go wrong.
So whatever happened to Joelle, you ask. Where is the original Cynical Woman now? She’s in Bangkok, Thailand, a place she went to pursue her dream job and live an exotic, adventurous life. Of course, they’ve just had a military coup over there and everything’s in a sort of uproar. As Cynical Woman would say, “It figures.”
***
Artwork from yesterday. More torsos. I'm getting better at it, I think.
Torso studies, 19 September 2006
Are you shocked? Don’t be. Cynical Woman is a title I inherited/borrowed from a friend of mine way back when. Many, many, many moons ago, I was a young college student studying communications at Virginia Tech. I was also a cadet and an ROTC scholarship student, but those are miseries we’ll discuss in later entries. As I was saying, I was a young Hokie working hard on my degree and in desperate need of a social life. Being the geek/freak that I am, I joined VTSFC, the Virginia Tech Science Fiction Club, and proceeded to meet a wild assortment of characters, including a charming young woman named Joelle. I do not use the word charming lightly. Joelle originally haled from Atlanta, Georgia, and was as close to a Southern Belle as anyone I’ve ever met. She had style, grace, good manners and enough attitude to power all five computers currently running in this house, which is funny because computers and Joelle never really did get along.
So I met Joelle and we very quickly became good friends. She was working on her master’s degree in entomology, the study of bugs, and did cool things like make pets out of giant Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches (while still maintaining that wonderful Southern Belle attitude). Unfortunately for Joelle, life was not always easy. I think she had more than her fair share of bumps trying to get through grad school. She was supporting herself and paying for all her courses, which often stretched her finances thin. She worked an assortment of jobs to make ends meet, and did them all very well, but usually only got paid crap for them. She rented a small room in an apartment that was quite frequently mistaken for a landfill. Her room was clean, but the rest of the place was a dump. And she had problems with friends who turned out to not be friends, thesis advisors who stabbed her in the back, etc., etc., etc. I won’t go into too many details because a lot of it is quite personal and much of it is not pleasant, but I will say that Joelle survived in spite of all the garbage that was dumped on her by her graduate department, minimum wage jobs, and assorted aggravating room mates and faux friends. In fact, she did quite well, although there was always something coming up to cause her trouble even after she graduated and moved on to bigger and better things.
Through much of this, I had the pleasure of being one of Joelle’s friends. I can remember several lunches, usually held as some fine but affordable dining establishment located somewhere in Blacksburg, where we’d sit and discuss our woes (I had my own problems with being a cadet and an ROTC scholarship student, but again, we’ll save that for later). What I remember best is that after detailing her latest crisis, Joelle always said the same thing. “You know Helen, just when I think things are going well and everything is wonderful, something really crappy happens, and then Cynical Woman raises her ugly head and says ‘I told you so!’”
And that’s where Cynical Woman came from. It wasn’t until a few years later that I myself started to use those same words. “And then Cynical Woman raises her ugly head...” By then, I was dealing with my own crappy minimum wage jobs, assorted aggravating room mates and faux friends and I so totally understood what Joelle meant. You think things are going okay and you start to feel happy and kind of nice and then life jumps up and bits you in the ass. Only the way Joelle said it sounded so much nicer. Cynical Woman. It just had a nice ring to it, so I adopted the title and developed the persona to go with it. And I have to admit, being Cynical Woman has served me pretty well these last few years, especially when my life has been at its worst. Anytime I’ve been hip deep in agony, I’ve always been surrounded by a bunch of Pollyannas who try to tell me that life is great, things are going to get better, God has a plan for me, etc., etc. Well I know better. Life isn’t always great. Many times it down right sucks, and I’d much rather be Cynical Woman and know that life is going to hand me crap than be all perky and obliviously happy and then get kicked in the teeth when things go bad. Some people think that’s a horrible attitude to have, but I say it’s realistic, and being realistic means I’m always prepared for when things go wrong.
So whatever happened to Joelle, you ask. Where is the original Cynical Woman now? She’s in Bangkok, Thailand, a place she went to pursue her dream job and live an exotic, adventurous life. Of course, they’ve just had a military coup over there and everything’s in a sort of uproar. As Cynical Woman would say, “It figures.”
***
Artwork from yesterday. More torsos. I'm getting better at it, I think.
Torso studies, 19 September 2006
Bum Knees And Bifocals – Not-So-Gracefully Growing Old
Tuesday, September 19th, 2006
Did I mention I’m going to physical therapy three times a week? A couple of years ago, four months after Cassie was born, my husband mistook me for a six-foot, seven-inch, 200 pound man during a self-defense drill in karate class and knocked me hard enough off my feet to blow my right knee out. Four months after that, someone else got a little intimidated during a sparring match and took out my other knee. The end result? Two bad knees that sound like Rice Krispies cereal every time I go up and down the stairs. Snap! Crackle! Pop!
My knees got progressively worse during my last pregnancy, thanks to relaxin and all those other fun pregnacy hormones. The crunchy sound I was making going up and down the stairs got so bad that it creeped out one of my best friends (who just happens to be an emergency room nurse and so is not easily creeped out). Since I’d still like to be able to walk when I hit fifty, I decided to see an orthopedist who sent me to a physical therapist who told me that my knee caps are tracking to the outside of each leg and that if I don’t correct it now, my knees will eventually migrate to the back of my thighs, causing me to walk like a bird with my legs bent backwards for the rest of my life.
Fun.
So in addition to all the other stuff I’ve got to do, I’m now going to physical therapy three times a week to fix my knees. Actually, the therapist says the problem is easily correctible if I keep up with all my therapy appointments and do the at-home exercises. I can make it to all the appointments. I’m determined to do that. But remembering to do the exercises at home on top of everything else is a little challenging. I’m trying though. I’ve got to stretch my outer thigh muscles while strengthening the inner ones. This is something I’ll probably have to work on for the rest of my life, seeing how weak and unstable both knees are, but at least it won’t take surgery to correct.
The biggest problem with the therapy is I have to slow down on my exercise and karate. It’s partly because the therapist doesn’t want me to overexert myself until my knees are stronger, but it’s also due to the fact that I’m in her office so frequently that I don’t have any time left to exercise during the week. I hate that. I just got my schedule set up so I could start practicing karate again and go to the gym on a regular basis and now I’ve got to spend that time at the therapist’s office instead. I know, physical therapy is exercise, but it’s exercise that is only concentrated on one part of my body - my knees. The rest of me needs a workout too, you know.
Of course, if I fix my knees, I can go back to having wild sex. I’m not kidding about this one. The last time Michael and I had sex, I just about dislocated both knee caps. And we weren’t doing anything all that kinky, just trying out a perfectly normal position that put a little too much pressure on my knees. I miss my sex life. I want my knees back.
Strong knees will let me get back to sparring (not my favorite activity, but I like being able to brag to weenies who are too scared to step into a sparring ring), it will let me get back to kata, kobudo, running, weight lifting, and sex. All those fun hard core activities that I love that make me feel young. Bum knees make me feel old. I hate feeling old.
Being told I will probably need bifocals by next year also made me feel old. That came up during my last eye appointment. What the hell? I just had a baby. I’m a new mom. Why is my body falling apart now? Oh, wait. I’m thirty-seven, going on thirty-eight. Forty is just around the corner. The warranty has apparently run out on my hot sexy bod. Oh well.
I will not grow old gracefully. I will fight it tooth and nail, kicking and screaming all the way. If nothing else, the resulting temper tantrum should make me look like a three-year-old, which is much younger than a thirty-seven-year-old, and since the goal is to look young(er), I think I can be happy with that.
***
Here is the artwork from yesterday. I’m going to work on figures for a while. I’ve been drawing heads and faces for so long, they’re easy. Now I need to be able to do the same with bodies. I’m having a hard time figuring out how to quickly sketch out a human figure though. None of the books I’ve got do a good job showing how to go from basic shapes to a completed figure. It’s almost like they’re leaving out a key step that I can't identify. Very, very annoying.
Figure sketches, 18 September 2006
My knees got progressively worse during my last pregnancy, thanks to relaxin and all those other fun pregnacy hormones. The crunchy sound I was making going up and down the stairs got so bad that it creeped out one of my best friends (who just happens to be an emergency room nurse and so is not easily creeped out). Since I’d still like to be able to walk when I hit fifty, I decided to see an orthopedist who sent me to a physical therapist who told me that my knee caps are tracking to the outside of each leg and that if I don’t correct it now, my knees will eventually migrate to the back of my thighs, causing me to walk like a bird with my legs bent backwards for the rest of my life.
Fun.
So in addition to all the other stuff I’ve got to do, I’m now going to physical therapy three times a week to fix my knees. Actually, the therapist says the problem is easily correctible if I keep up with all my therapy appointments and do the at-home exercises. I can make it to all the appointments. I’m determined to do that. But remembering to do the exercises at home on top of everything else is a little challenging. I’m trying though. I’ve got to stretch my outer thigh muscles while strengthening the inner ones. This is something I’ll probably have to work on for the rest of my life, seeing how weak and unstable both knees are, but at least it won’t take surgery to correct.
The biggest problem with the therapy is I have to slow down on my exercise and karate. It’s partly because the therapist doesn’t want me to overexert myself until my knees are stronger, but it’s also due to the fact that I’m in her office so frequently that I don’t have any time left to exercise during the week. I hate that. I just got my schedule set up so I could start practicing karate again and go to the gym on a regular basis and now I’ve got to spend that time at the therapist’s office instead. I know, physical therapy is exercise, but it’s exercise that is only concentrated on one part of my body - my knees. The rest of me needs a workout too, you know.
Of course, if I fix my knees, I can go back to having wild sex. I’m not kidding about this one. The last time Michael and I had sex, I just about dislocated both knee caps. And we weren’t doing anything all that kinky, just trying out a perfectly normal position that put a little too much pressure on my knees. I miss my sex life. I want my knees back.
Strong knees will let me get back to sparring (not my favorite activity, but I like being able to brag to weenies who are too scared to step into a sparring ring), it will let me get back to kata, kobudo, running, weight lifting, and sex. All those fun hard core activities that I love that make me feel young. Bum knees make me feel old. I hate feeling old.
Being told I will probably need bifocals by next year also made me feel old. That came up during my last eye appointment. What the hell? I just had a baby. I’m a new mom. Why is my body falling apart now? Oh, wait. I’m thirty-seven, going on thirty-eight. Forty is just around the corner. The warranty has apparently run out on my hot sexy bod. Oh well.
I will not grow old gracefully. I will fight it tooth and nail, kicking and screaming all the way. If nothing else, the resulting temper tantrum should make me look like a three-year-old, which is much younger than a thirty-seven-year-old, and since the goal is to look young(er), I think I can be happy with that.
***
Here is the artwork from yesterday. I’m going to work on figures for a while. I’ve been drawing heads and faces for so long, they’re easy. Now I need to be able to do the same with bodies. I’m having a hard time figuring out how to quickly sketch out a human figure though. None of the books I’ve got do a good job showing how to go from basic shapes to a completed figure. It’s almost like they’re leaving out a key step that I can't identify. Very, very annoying.
Figure sketches, 18 September 2006
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