Exposé: worst face scenario with an autoimmune condition

A terrible thing happened this morning.

I woke up looking as bad as I’ve been feeling.

Sigh.

#LivingWithRA

 

 

*Important note: I felt this way a couple of days ago. The silly wordplay for the title came to me last night, when I scheduled the post. The sentiment resonates over and over again, unfortunately! Thanks for reading.

Including a Kindle for ultralight carry on travel: when is the weight justified?

To travel with the Kindle, or without the Kindle? That is my question before each trip.

Much of my travel kit is so definitive, it’s hard for me to remember a time when I carried anything different.

For over a decade, I’ve had a silk sleeping bag liner or “sleep sack” (dubbed by our family as “the sleestak” because that’s funnier) with me on every flight. It doubles as a blanket, protects me from chemical-laden hotel bedding, and acts as a neck pillow or cushioned armrest while rolled up.

I could go on and on about other items in my carefully curated collection of travel gear. Most pieces serve multiple purposes. Many of them delight me because they remind me of adventures past. I know what I need, why I need it, and (usually) where to pack it with very little contemplation.

When it comes to my Kindle, however, I’m weighing its inclusion before every trip.

Kindle - 1The truth is, I never need to bring the Kindle. I have a smartphone and a tablet, both of which include the Kindle app. Unlike the dark ages of my youth, I never need to carry a stack of paperbacks (it took four for a cross country flight) these days to ensure having entertainment for hours of airline isolation.

I often do bring one codex in spite of the weight of paper and ink. I like to read a physical book. Books, however, don’t often work best for my physical limitations.

The reason I read on a Kindle is mundane. I have arthritis in my hands and wrists. There is no less taxing way to hold a library in my hands than my Kindle Voyage.* Continue reading

I would move to Mars tomorrow, if I could

I would leave for Mars tomorrow if they’d let me. I would pack up whatever I was allowed to bring or leave it all, and I would go. I don’t think I would ever look back, though I would most assuredly miss who and what I left behind.

Now, let’s put that in context…

I think my life choices qualify me as a pretty dedicated mom. I decided before I had children that motherhood would be my primary occupation if I did procreate. Being a parent is a calling that I answered; I’m proud of my work.

Also, my kids are awesome. I like my teenager even more now than I did when he was a child. I didn’t know that was possible. And my little guy? Adorable, articulate, and the most imaginative storyteller I’ve ever met.

I like my kids.

I’m blessed to have found a spouse who is a ridiculously good fit. I mean, seriously, if you had any idea how odd I really am, and how perfectly, equally nuts DH is… It’s an understatement to say that I love him. It’s insufficient to state that I admire, respect, and enjoy spending every minute I can get with my husband. I have brought myself to tears by imagining that someday the world will exist without this man in it. I wish everyone could have the joy of knowing a love like we share.

I like my husband.

But to travel the galaxy?

To leave the confines of the planet Earth?

To be an explorer of the cosmos?

To be a colonist is outer space?

I would leave tomorrow.

I don’t think there is any other cause that would find me abandoning my family. Most scenarios would see me fighting to the death for them before allowing us to be torn apart.

Some couples have those “impossible lover” cheating exceptions. We don’t. But maybe this is like that?

I warned my husband before I married him: I will go to Mars if the opportunity ever presents itself.

I’m not an astronaut, so this is highly unlikely. He accepted my terms. Fast forward a decade and a half.

I’ve warned the kids: children, I love you more than anything, but I will go to Mars if a mission ever accepts me.

None of my family members share this insanity. They’ve all agreed that they understand (sort of), but they wouldn’t go with me.

My husband reminds me that I like to wash my hair every day. I’m arthritic and occasionally phobic and I live within a set of routines that allay my anxiety.

But I would shave my head, tolerate constant pain, and give it all up to go to Mars, and I would do it tomorrow. I would turn my back on planet Earth given the chance. Because, if I had the opportunity to reach the farthest frontier available to humanity, nothing would stop me from running toward it.

This is the penultimate human experience, as I see it, and I would never turn it down.

I would miss my family forever, but I would leave them for this one thing, unlikely as it is.

Capsule wardrobe: quick, casual August escape

Here’s a capsule wardrobe for a short trip to a casual destination with a predictable summer climate. I can expect daytime temperatures around 80º F and cool nights (≈55º F.)

wardrobe-quick-august-escape-add-accessories.jpg

I’m visiting family so I can borrow a jacket in a pinch.

It’s almost killing me to stick to such a boring palette. I keep wanting to sneak in more bright pieces in peachy coral and acid green. I. Will. Resist. Temptation!

This is all that I need, however, and I haven’t been feeling very well. I need to keep my bag to a manageable weight to avoid exacerbating my arthritis pain. Ruthless curation is the best way I know of to do so.

As is often the case due to my foot problems (more arthritis, plus a broken sesamoid bone), I began by choosing a summery pair of my favorite Ahnu Sugarpine sneakers. These are the lightweight, cooler mesh version.

Wardrobe quick August escape shoes - 1

Teva bought Ahnu, and now I’m afraid for the future of my favorite footwear

The soft colors get dingy fast, and this is my newest pair. That set my color palette to “baby blue.”

For summer, I wear a lot of UV protective clothing. I’m sensitive to chemical sunscreen (painful red rash) and mineral sunscreen (breakouts from the carrier cream, I assume.) I protect my skin instead with high UPF clothing and broad-brimmed hats.

All of the bottoms for this capsule are made by Coolibar. They are equivalent to a topical SPF of 50+.

The matching powder blue hoodie is also Coolibar; the tank is a coordinate from the same set.

My go to white, v-neck, faux wrap, kimono style tunic was made by ExOfficio. I liked it so much after wearing it for a season, I bought four more when they went on clearance. May I never live without this summer staple.

The other white woven top is a simple rayon tank sold by Dharma Trading Co as a blank canvas for fiber artisans. Once again, I bought these in bulk. They are long enough to cover my bum as a tunic with lightweight summer trousers, and they double up as minimalist nightgowns. It’s rare for me to travel without at least one of these, regardless of the season.

To these summer specific basics, I’m adding four cotton/Lycra layering tanks. My favorites remain the Duluth Trading Co No Yank Tanks. They are opaque enough to wear alone, but, more often, I add one under another top to keep warm (dawn and dusk), for more modesty, or to extend wears between washings of the more fashionable tops.

I could easily skip accessories for a summer trip. The truth is, when the temperature climbs above about 75º F, I start to remove necklaces, scarves, and sometimes even earrings. I’m really sensitive to hot weather, and every extra item annoys me.

With so little color in this capsule, and for very little extra weight, I went ahead and added a polka dot skinny scarf, one gold necklace, and two pairs of earrings—gold hoops, and light blue dangles.

I’m also bringing my summer “sandal alternatives”—a pair of lightweight grey mesh Mary Janes by Propet.

Grey propet shoes

Two pairs of shoes is an extravagance, but these weigh very little, and I am sometimes undone by the immense weight of my own feet in tennis shoes when I’m feeling unwell, so I’m not willing to go without.

Add socks (7 pairs, mostly tiny anklets), undergarments, and one more rayon tank for nightwear, and I have plenty of options for a six day trip. Unless I spill on myself (not unlikely *ahem*), I won’t need to do laundry, either.

Packing it all in my Rolo bag weighs in at a whopping 5 lb 4 oz. I can manage that over my shoulder, and it will be easy to stow overhead.

I will also carry my Western Flyer in backpack mode loaded with everything else: handbag, Bluetooth keyboard, medication, toiletries, and a slew of comfort items. Fully packed, the Tom Bihn Western Flyer should top out around 10 lbs. I’ll keep that by my feet on the plane for easy access.

These are the moments when one is grateful to be only 5′ 3″ tall. Most of those moments seem to occur in cramped aircraft seats.

airplane feet - 1

Such a simple solution: easing hip pain during air travel with inflatable seat cushions

Here’s a simple solution to try if you are prone to joint pain during the forced immobility of air travel. Add at least one inflatable pillow to your carry on kit. Even better, carry a pair of different shaped inflatables.

While I’m frustrated by the amount of “stuff” that is now a mandatory part of my travel experience, I carry it all because it helps with different manifestations of my autoimmune condition. I’m not going to stop exploring the world, and I’d prefer not to suffer too much as I go about it.

Inflatable pillows of different shapes and thicknesses can be arranged to buffer hard armrests, prop up feet to change the angle of the legs, support the lower back, or (the most tradition option) cushion a lolling head for a much-needed nap.

This time, my Klymit “Cush” pillow deployed under my knees took the pressure off of an aching hip and spared me from another hour of excruciating pain or resorting to opiates during a trip where I’d prefer to stay in full command of my faculties.

The Klymit pillow differs from most I’ve seen due to its shape. It’s long (~30 inches, inflated) and narrow (9 inches) unlike typical, chair-seat-sized rectangular seat cushions. It’s easily wrapped around, or folded and layered, for varied types of support, and it was exactly what I needed in the moment.

This same feature is oft cited by other reviewers as a negative, but my own experience proves the value in making and marketing a new kind of pillow.

A few hours into a recent flight, my right hip started to ache in a miserable way. It was a stabbing pain, almost severe enough to make me cry out. Exactly how I’d like to behave on a full flight!

The hip is not even one of my main “problem areas” for joint pain, but I’ve been experiencing a prolonged period of more frequent flares in my small joints, and that usually means spikes of pain in the larger joints for me, too. In spite of the flare, I had a trip that couldn’t wait, requiring a flight across the country.

I opted for a layover instead of my usual direct flight to allow myself a mid-journey movement break. I even splurged on a first class seat for one segment of the trip, but sitting for seven hours is sitting for seven hours. Joint pain and stiffness was inevitable.

While the short walk to the restroom and a set of stretches in the galley paused the worst of it, this was a stop-gap solution that couldn’t be prolonged or easily repeated. There just isn’t room on a plane for a body in crisis.

After experimenting with my Therm-a-rest “Trail Seat” cushion, the standard airplane pillow provided by the airline, a blanket, and the Klymit, the winner was clear. Extended to its full length across the front edge of my seat cushion, the Klymit changed my seating angle enough to stop the spasms wracking my hip for the remaining hour of the flight.

The 91-year-old gentleman seated next to me was quite gracious in his silence about my odd maneuvers as I attempted to get comfortable. I’m sure he was curious about all the pillows and props I kept pulling out of my bag!

A pair of airline pillows might have duplicated the effect, but I only had one. With the airlines providing ever stingier accommodations, I wouldn’t want to count on even having that single courtesy pillow.

I could try folding the Therm-a-rest to double its thickness, but it wouldn’t raise the angle of both knees, nor am I sure that it would hold up well to a sharp fold.*

Rolling the blanket would be the next best option, but I was already using it to keep warm. Yes, when my arthritis flares up, I also suffer from both warm and cold spells wherein I can’t seem to regulate my own body temperature properly. That’s why a small down throw blanket is another vital element in my travel kit.

My tote full of inflatable cushions earns me a few stares, but also quite a few envious comments from people wishing they’d thought to pack something similar along. That’s why I offer this post today.

I have personally bought and used the following inflatable travel pillows.

*Later, I experimented with folding the Therm-a-rest “Trail Seat,” and it held up fine to this abuse. It didn’t result in a thick pillow that would stay in position, however, like the Klymit Cush, so wasn’t the best tool for this particular job. I have found nothing to complain about with Therm-a-rest products or build quality.

Rescue! Lost dog finds his way home

There won’t be too many posts that I begin like this: I was a hero this morning before breakfast.

I’m being hyperbolic*, of course. I was merely helpful. I did, however, have the opportunity to ease a lost little dog’s obvious anxiety, then find his way home, and I did it before drinking my coffee.

I’m pretty sure the dog felt I was heroic.

I was startled by a flash of movement outside the back door. It’s a private, fenced yard where no one should be at 7:30 on a weekday morning. There was a little white dog padding anxiously along the perimeter of the house and yard, shivering and unhappy.

He walked up to the patio door. His eye contact said, “I see you, lady, and I’m meant to be in there with you. Why aren’t you saving me?

I called out to the rest of the household.

“Have you seen this dog before? He looks lost.”

Response: “Are you sure it’s not a cat?”

A fair number of neighborhood cats perch on the fence, but, no, this guy is a small white dog with some black markings and a powder blue collar.

I’m not a veterinarian or anything, but I felt confident stating this was a dog.

Someone more interested in dogs than I went out slowly and spoke kindly to him, but it was pretty obvious this frightened the little animal more. I was still the recipient of a lot of canine eye contact.

“Yes, lady, I’m looking at you.”

I never thought I had any dog whispering (canine telepathy?) powers before today, but I trust my interpretation.

We offered a bowl of water and someone went looking for an appropriate treat to lure him close enough to read his tags.

With a sigh, I sat down on the cold ground and the shivering pup edged his way nervously around the dog lover–sitting still and patient on a patio chair, hoping to help–and right into my lap.

The dog’s body language said it all:

Finally.”

Deep sigh.

I am allergic to dogs, so I usually speak to them politely while avoiding physical contact. They often resent my abject failure to pet (clearly knowing it is their due for having the grace to be domesticated and accept the often thankless task of being man’s best friend.)

Today, there could be none of that.

With my reassuring warmth relieving the chill of the morning, the tags on his collar were read, a neighbor’s phone number discovered, and, a few minutes later, a joyful reunion with a family member orchestrated.

His name is Buddy, and he was a rescue, and he is afraid of men. I know a few humans who share similar characteristics.

So I was Buddy’s hero this morning, bright and early, before my coffee. Like most moms, I live to serve. (Sort of, and with a bit of a giggling snort for that overblown statement.)

At least it is fair to say that, as a mom, I work to meet the needs of those smaller and less powerful than myself every day. Today, that small being was Buddy. Happy as he was to see his family, he definitely threw me a backwards glance. He was grateful that I eventually listened to him, and gave him what he needed.

I don’t know why Buddy picked me to be his hero this morning, but I was pleased to find I could rise to the task, allergies and all. Rarely are we so graciously asked when we are called to serve.

* Hyperbolic as an adjective relating to exaggeration, of course, but wouldn’t it be funny if I meant “being like a curve that is formed by the intersection of a double right circular cone with a plane that cuts both halves of the cone?” Even more fascinating: Merriam Webster states the the first definition predates the geometric one by more than a century (15th century vs. 1676.) Can that really be true? I feel that a great deal more research into this word is now warranted.

How to help when there is nothing you can do?

We all face some problems with no real solution. There are periods in every life when trials must be endured, and difficulties faced. This week, I’m struggling with what to do when a loved one is suffering, and there’s nothing I can do.

Yet, doing nothing isn’t an option. I can’t solve the problem, but I can insert my love and affection between a person I care about and her pain.

When there’s nothing else to do, I can help by being available.

I can offer my ears, and listen.

I can offer my heart, and empathize.

I can offer my time, and share it with someone who is feeling unheard, unappreciated, and disenfranchised.

I can’t solve her problem, but I can be present.

It doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all that I can do.

beach - 1

My husband shares his beautiful photographs with me

Hand-me-down clothes & the needs of the second son

A package should arrive tomorrow full of new school clothes for my boys.

This is a pretty common purchase in middle class America in August. Back to school shopping is a tradition. Certainly I grew up with a replenished wardrobe every year at this time, ready to show up in a new classroom sporting unblemished shoes and a fresh favorite outfit. My brother also met September with new sneakers and the latest cool t-shirts in his closet. My mother took meticulous care of our appearances.

But I didn’t follow in my mother’s footsteps. I’m no match for her as a housekeeper, and I didn’t take my kids to the mall for the annual sales. I just replaced what was worn out or outgrown. Usually that meant almost every purchase was destined for DS1, who’s older by several years and has been consistently bigger at similar ages.

This year, I’ve done something a little different in my shopping. Ten of the 15 items in the package are for DS2.

Wardrobe for boy

New clothes for DS2 . One pair of jeans came from a local store, hence 11 items.

He’s the second son.

He has grown up wearing his brother’s hand-me-down clothes.

I thought I should offer him more this year, and here’s why. Continue reading

Books by my bedside 2017/08/12

I’ve noticed that I often bring up in conversation one or more of the fascinating books I’ve been reading lately, only to fail utterly at recalling titles or authors’ names. I’ll take this opportunity to at least have a handy reference available for anyone who cares to follow up on something I’ve said.

Just check my blog!

Non-Fiction

History

The Bad-ass Librarians of Timbuktu : and their race to save the world’s most precious manuscripts by Hammer, Joshua

White Trash : the 400-year untold history of class in America by Isenberg, Nancy

Language

Pimsleur German I (audio CD)

Mathematics

Life of Fred: Kidneys by Schmidt, Stanley F.

Life of Fred: Liver by Schmidt, Stanley F.

Life of Fred: Mineshaft by Schmidt, Stanley F.

Life of Fred: Fractions by Schmidt, Stanley F.

Life of Fred: Decimals and Percents by Schmidt, Stanley F.

Memoir

Casting Lots : creating a family in a beautiful, broken world by Silverman, Susan

Fiction

My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry by Backman, Fredrik

Books 2017.08.12 fiction - 1

Reading Notes:

I haven’t been feeling very well for a week or so (not interesting to talk about), but one happy consequence of spending hours on the couch is that I’ve had more time for casual reading.

US History of White Trash

After two weeks of grumpy interactions with Isenberg’s White Trash, I let it go when my digital library loan expired and I don’t intend to finish it. There’s some interesting history here, but I found myself annoyed by what felt like intentional misunderstandings by the author more often than I gained insight into America’s past.

Typical example: stating that Thomas Jefferson was failing to enact political change while describing an episode of gradual political change. I think the author meant that Jefferson should have done more, and more quickly, but I quickly tired of watching the author grind her axe.

The Bad-ass Librarians of Timbuktu

Now here’s a book I couldn’t return to the library before completion.

To me, Timbuktu means “the ends of the Earth.” Timbuktu is synonymous with exotic foreign locales. Timbuktu is a place I knew by name before this book but with little understanding of its unique place in the history of learning and culture.

Bad-ass Librarians was written by a journalist, and it sometimes reads like a series of articles glued together to make a book. It’s worth reading anyway.

The provocative title aside, this is the story of ordinary (and extraordinary) people in Mali fighting back against a jihadist invasion of the region around Timbuktu. This book celebrates the thinking person’s ability to triumph over willful ignorance and wanton violence.

Here’s a rare celebration of centuries of African scholarship as glimpsed by the West. The threat to its tangible artifacts—a treasure trove of rare, priceless manuscripts—by Islamist extremists made my heart pound. I’m left with a yearning to see some of these documents for myself, and a renewed interest in learning some Arabic.

I can think of no better way for me, personally, to express my wish for peace in this world than through the cross-cultural sharing of books.

Adoption & Jewish motherhood in Casting Lots

Casting Lots came to me by way of a philanthropical organization that sends free books to Jewish families. Usually, it’s the kids who get the loot, but this month, there was a gift for me.

I am familiar with comedienne Sarah Silverman. I was intrigued to read that the author—her sister, Rabbi Susan Silverman—is considered “the funny sister.” There’s certainly a family resemblance, including some of the crude punchlines that I most associate with Sarah.

In spite of that (because I get why potty humor is funny, but it’s not my first choice for entertainment), I enjoyed most of the time I spent with Casting Lots. It is, at its core, an engaging personal story. Silverman would be someone interesting to have a cup of coffee with.

The subject of international adoption is one I’ve considered for myself and observed through friends and family, and it is genuinely moving to follow her along this path to parenthood.

Her take on Judaism in general resonates less with me, and I see this story as a readable tale that happens to be written by a Jewish woman, not a Jewish parenting book, per se.

Mathematics textbooks, specifically, the Life of Fred

I wrote about this the other day, but I’m brushing up on my pre-algebra terms and presentation in preparation for working with the child* of a friend as a math tutor.

Life of Fred is a nontraditional approach to teaching math. Author Stanley F. Schmidt, PhD, presents the subject from elementary arithmetic up through college level courses in Linear Algebra and Real Analysis, all told through the lens of a 5 ½ year old professor named Fred at fictional KITTENS University.

Yeah, most of it really is as wacky as it sounds.

And yet: my younger son has read many of these books for fun, and more than once. He’s begging me to buy the Life of Fred: Calculus textbook so he can finally learn Fred’s origin story.

I’m in no rush to get my elementary schooler into calculus, but I’m impressed by a math book that promotes such a devoted following in a child who regularly declares himself averse to “being taught” anything.

We’ve had the elementary and intermediate arithmetic series for years, but I’ve just ordered the three volume pre-algebra series (Pre-Algebra 0 with PhysicsPre-Algebra 1 with Biology, and Pre-Algebra 2 with Economics) and Life of Fred: Beginning Algebra Expanded Edition.

I can’t speak to using this collection as a stand-alone mathematics curriculum, because that isn’t how I chose to use these books with my home educated child.

I do think that the method employed—every math problem to be solved is presented in the context of a character’s real life and search for solutions—might be exactly the right remediation for a child who has internalized the notion that learning math means memorizing occult procedures.

I spent the better part of two days perusing all of my current mathematics texts, then more hours compiling lists and ordering next year’s curricula in this and other subjects for DS1 and The Scholar.

The math curriculum I did use extensively with DS1 is also pictured above. (Beast Academy, by Art of Problem Solving.) Because I’m so familiar with them, I only picked out chapters and exercises for The Scholar to begin with; I didn’t read extensively from any of these. I mention them now because I can wholeheartedly recommend BA as a complete home school curriculum. They are also suitable as enrichment for a weak classroom program, or a student who needs a challenge.

*I’ve dubbed her The Scholar

Hedy Lamarr, Hollywood beauty and… inventor of secret military technology?

Hedy Lamarr was one of the great leading ladies of Hollywood in the 1930’s and 40’s. Some regard her as the most beautiful woman who ever graced the silver screen. Her heyday began almost 80 years ago, but her name is still well-known, certainly to movie buffs.

Even with a passing acquaintance from film studies, I, with an interest in both classic cinema and novel technologies, missed the fact that Hedy Lamarr was also an inventor.

She was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame in 2014.

Together with a friend, she patented technology in 1941 to prevent interception of military radio signals by the enemy. Their innovation used spread spectrum and frequency hopping to obscure information. If that sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because your wifi relies upon Lamarr’s idea, as do cell phones.

Who knew?

But, then again, why are we surprised?

Perhaps Lamarr, herself, provides a clue with this quote:

“Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid.”

She certainly was glamorous. Equally obvious: she wasn’t stupid.

Young women should not avoid STEM careers for fear of appearing unfeminine. Here’s a great example of a beautiful lady whose brain was as impressive as her countenance.

Another Lamarr quote provides a hint to the secret of her many successes:

“I win because I learned years ago that scared money always loses. I never care, so I win.”

Worry less about what others think, and more about what you can do. This is particularly compelling advice for women, who are likely to be judged less capable before they even begin.

You can’t win if you’re afraid to enter the race.

Smart women know what they have to offer. They should also feel free to remain attractive while they’re proving it. If that’s a distraction to the men in the room, use the advantage to move on past them while they’re addled. They can’t help it; they were born with this biological disadvantage.*

The reverse is equally true, of course. You don’t have to look like Hedy Lamarr to be a kick ass engineer, but I don’t think the internet needs an essay from me to assume a technological wunderkind looks more like Velma than Daphne.**

Apologies to Hedy Lamarr, Velma, Daphne, and the field of art in general for the quality of my sketches. No actual character, living or dead, real or fictional, is indicated by the drawings above. I was looking to illustrate stereotypes in 60 seconds with a Sharpie.

 

*I’m tired of hearing bad science spouted about biological differences. I think it’s stupid to shut down discussion of the topic. All reasonable debate of possibilities is valid and can lead to gains in knowledge. However, is an area in which theories are constantly conflated with facts. Nonsense cuts both ways.

**Scooby Doo reference; original 1969 animated series, naturally