Uh oh

I totally forgot that I was supposed to write because I had to rush home from work to get to an appointment for a massage. And then after the massage I felt so relaxed that I forgot about everything except walking the dog and collapsing into bed.

It could have been worse

Today I was supposed to be in New York City, not sitting on the floor of my living room in Shaker Heights. In April I signed on with the Alliance for a Healthier Generation, a non-profit group that is working to reduce the incidence of childhood obesity, to run the New York Marathon.

But then on July 7, eight-tenths of the way through a 10-mile training run, my right leg started to hurt. Badly. Every step was more painful than the last. I made it home and into the shower. An hour later, I couldn’t put any weight on my right foot.

The rest is history. I was out for the summer with an acute stress fracture of the tibia. I was in an AirCast and on crutches for almost 10 weeks. I was depressed. I gained weight. My right leg shriveled up.

To say it was the worst summer of my life is not inaccurate, but I realize how privileged and entitled I sound saying it. I am (sort of) young, incredibly healthy, and I’ve never known real, prolonged suffering. I don’t have cancer or rheumatoid arthritis or diabetes or any other chronic health condition (other than a lazy thyroid gland, but it's easily treated with one pill)—and I’ve totally recovered from my injury. I’m well educated and prosperous. I decide what to have for dinner, not whether I can afford dinner.

Still, I’m pretty disappointed today. But I think I'll survive.

Disappointed

When I was small, I was even more of a tomboy than I am now. Really, I would have preferred to have been a boy. Boys got to do fun stuff, and girl stuff was just…stupid. Boys wore Tuff-Skin jeans and played with toy guns and had pocketknives and rode BMX bikes. Girls wore dresses and barrettes in their hair and played with dolls.

In the second grade I met Juliette Boudreaux, who was, like me, a tomboy. She had three or four older brothers and she wore blue jeans and ringer t-shirts and played with Star Wars toys. She also was an inveterate talker and self-promoter. She was forever going on about how tough she was and how many boys she’d beaten up and so on. I was instantly enamored. I thought she was so cool! It wasn’t until later, in fourth and fifth grade, that I understood my status as a misfit and felt the urge to retaliate with violence against the kids who tormented me. (Not that I did. Once I hit a black-haired, fair-skinned boy named Jeremy in the jaw with my closed fist, and the blow merely glanced off him with little effect, and he continued to mock me.) But even then I think I felt a certain envy toward someone who exerted herself through physical power.

A few months into our friendship, Juliette and I convinced our moms to arrange a sleep-over. My mom dropped me off at her house, which smelled vaguely of bacon and maple syrup. On Saturday morning we went outside to play in fresh snow, and when our fingers and toes were frozen we made our way back to the house. Juliette’s mom met us at the door.

Our nylon parkas were covered with powdery clumps of snow. Juliette took off her hat, and her mom took it and flicked it at Juliette’s sleeves and chest, brushing off the snow. But she was careless, and the hat stung Juliette on the cheek. And then! Juliette started to cry!

I stared at her in disbelief. I was horrified. And so disappointed. What a baby! The hat had barely touched her. Suddenly, the veil was lifted. This little girl I’d thought was so great…wasn’t.

And you know, to this day, the feeling is the same. When I suddenly—or even gradually—discover that someone isn’t what I thought they were, my disappointment is every bit as profound. It’s like being in the second grade all over again.

It's November!

Besides being the month of my birth, and the month in which a bunch of dudes grow as much facial hair as possible for a dubious “cause,” November is the month of NaBloPoMo, which stands for...I forget. I think it’s National Blog Posting Month. I always wanted to participate but was too lazy and undisciplined. And let’s be clear, I still am lazy and undisciplined. But lately I’ve been wanting to write more, and not just the crap I spew in my paper diary.

So, let’s get to it.*

*Oh, dear, what have I done?

Happy holidays

Happy holidays
Originally uploaded by mmmmissy.

Rough night

Rough night
Originally uploaded by mmmmissy.

Holy rotten vegetables!

I started my compost project 13 days ago. The website I visited said that when you make your initial compost mix, you shouldn’t mess with it for two weeks. So I mixed my vegetable trimmings and shredded newspaper (in lieu of brown leaves) and let things go. I peeked in occasionally, but I resisted the urge to stir things—despite my acquisition last weekend of an actual pitchfork that I was dying to use.

This morning I went out and stirred things up, and it was compost! Already! It smelled earthy and looked like peat. No identifiable lime peels or cucumber chunks or tomato bits. I suppose it helped that it’s been about 90 degrees F all week. Yay, compost!

So now we’re cooking.

Love this

Love this
Originally uploaded by mmmmissy.

It's the silhouette of a fat trucker, with a beard and cap and
everything.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: a review

Yesterday Jerry asked me if I’d like to see a movie. I said sure.

“And maybe we can go to Piece afterward,” he said.

So we looked up showtimes, took our showers, and bicycled over to the movie theater at Logan and Western. About an hour into “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull,” I started thinking, I wish this were over so we could go eat pizza.

It's official

As of May 19 (just got the letter today), I am a permanently licensed physician.

This doesn't really change anything for me (especially since I'm not applying for a DEA license yet), but it's nice to have cleared that hurdle.

Of course, there were still 10 times as many cars

As part of my vacation campaign to help Monty lose two pounds so he can ride in a Burley Tail Wagon, we walked to Red Hen Bread for breakfast (chocolate-cherry scone for me, nothing for him), about three miles roundtrip.

On the way home, as a fun exercise, I counted bicyclists on Milwaukee Avenue between North and Armitage. I tallied 54! Including two Redline 925s like mine (with the gray paint job). I’m also pretty sure I spied Beth Amphetamine, giving a derby girl glare to a truck that was edging into her lane.

Horror-film Jesus

Horror-film Jesus
Originally uploaded by mmmmissy.

Quarterly update

Hi, all!

Sorry about the absence. I was busy writing my memoir about being raised by wolves in South Central L.A. But I'm finally finished and have found a publisher and now I can concentrate on this blog.

Not much going on around here. We are making butternut squash soup for supper. Yum!

Monty twisted his ankle or whatever it is dogs sometimes do to their legs when he went after a tennis ball I'd thrown at the park last night. He yelped and then started limping, so we immediately came home. He acted sad and just laid around the rest of the evening, not touching his dinner. I gave him one Advil and petted him and babied him. He seems better today, although Derek said he was limping a bit on their walk today.

Jerry and I finally decided a trip to Target was in order yesterday (we had to stock up on toilet paper--for ME, as Jerry does not poop). We steeled ourselves and braved the screaming children and secured our toothbrush heads, rechargeable batteries, and other important items. To reward ourselves, we went to Handlebar for vegetarian chili cheese fries and a Green Meanie (avocado, sprouts, tomato, Green Goddess dressing on toasted wheat). Oh, it was good!

I went to spinning class this morning, for the first time ever. It was pretty cool. It was actually pretty hard, as well, but I enjoyed it a lot. I think the interval work will make me faster on a real bike, and if not, the cardiovascular conditioning will be worth the effort. Remind me to tell you about the irritating exhibitionist (in the locker room, that is) who is in the class.

OK, you were asking for an update

Hi, everybody!

Oh, I've been so busy! Not only was I on vacation for a week, but I've been working on this monthlong clinicopathologic conference (CPC), in which I get a weird medical case whose answer I have to figure out, and then at the end I have to present the case to all the residents and some of the attendings, and only then do I find out if I got the answer right. Freaky!

MC Jheri Curl and I were in Breckenridge for the past week, skiing. Good times! I could definitely be a ski bum. Although I'd have to be a bum, because I certainly couldn't afford to live there. Amanda stayed at our house with Monty. I'm glad we have someone who loves him as much as we do to take care of him when we're gone.

Speaking of Mr. Fat Dog, he has to start on thyroid medication soon. We wanted to wait till we got back from vacation. I hope it doesn't make him crazy! Although I wouldn't feel one bit bad if he barked all day and annoyed the downstairs neighbors, who have the world's most annoying beagle that barks whenever they're gone.

So, after I finish my CPC on Friday, my best friend, Kitten, is coming to visit. Yay! Guess I'd better stock up on citrus fruits and tonic water.

Poor baby

Poor baby
Originally uploaded by mmmmissy.

Totally Stupid Asses

I’m flying to Tampa Monday, and since I haven’t flown for almost a year, I thought I’d check out the TSA’s rules for what you can and can’t take on the plane. I read the following paragraph on the TSA website:

“We ask for your cooperation in the screening process by being prepared before you arrive. We also ask that you follow the guidelines above and try not to over-think these guidelines. Please pack liquids, gels, and aerosols in your checked baggage even if you do not normally check a bag.”

I don’t even know where to start. It was the “try not to over-think” thing that sent me into spasms of irritation, but I’ve really been scratching my head about the last sentence. How can you pack stuff into a checked bag if you don’t check a bag?

Adventures in public transportation

I listened to all the screaming weather Cassandras regarding freezing rain and "wintry mix" and took the CTA to work yesterday. This morning I took the Chicago Avenue bus from my gym to the Blue Line, but I got engrossed in an episode of "Arrested Development" that I was watching on my iPhone, and I missed my stop!

So I figured I could get off at Damen Avenue and take the bus north to the North Avenue Blue Line stop. But then the damn Damen bus didn't come. I walked almost a mile before it finally came. Stupid bus. The el train came pretty quickly, though.

The episode of "Arrested Development" was really funny. Almost worth missing my stop.

I'm riding my bike tonight. The city puts so much brine on the streets that nothing freezes. It makes your car fall apart, but there's no ice!

And the weather isn't helping

Something about working nights, even when it's an easy rotation, is so depressing to me. I really hate to leave the house when Jerry is settling in for the evening. Or worse, to leave before he even gets home from work.

Amanda called today and invited me over for lasagna, but I had to decline. Jerry gets to go, though. I'm happy for him, but sad for me.

Ah, well. All in all there is very little I can complain about. Life is really good, and this is a fairly low-stress week. But I will be a lot happier when I'm back in my own bed.

The blue cheese incident

Jerry made a salad that had blue cheese in it a couple of nights ago. There were leftovers, so I took a plastic container of it to work yesterday, then promptly forgot that it was in the outer pocket of my bicycle garment pannier, which was in my locker.

I gave a tour to some residency applicants at 11 a.m., so I stopped by my locker to get my call room key (they always want to see a call room). My locker smelled kind of funny, kind of like stale cooking odors. And sadly enough, a lot of times my clothes smell like stale cooking odors because of the ass-steak and the ass-fish and the ass-roast my downstairs neighbor cooks (say what you will about my downstairs neighbor, she cooks a meal every day), so I honestly didn't think hard about it.

At noon I went to lunch at Gino's with the applicants, so I totally forgot about the salad, until 5 p.m., when I realized that it had leaked all over my bag and the inside of my locker. Guh. My locker still smells. I was going to let my bag air out on the back porch today, but I was afraid the squirrels might chew a hole in it.

Soysage balls: the recipe

3 cups Bisquick
8 oz. grated sharp cheddar cheese
1 package of Gimme Lean sausage-style meat substitute
1/4 c. vegetable oil
pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Whisk the clumps out of the Bisquick. Dump in the other ingredients and smoosh everything together with your hands. Form into approximately 32 golf ball-sized balls. Divide among two non-stick baking sheets (or regular baking sheets sprayed with Pam). Bake 20-22 minutes, rotating lower pan to upper rack and upper pan to lower halfway through. Cool until you can gobble them without burning your fingers or the roof of your mouth.