3 books down, only 30 to go!

Well, this picture is upside-down, but I hardly think that matters.  This is my Christmas puzzle and I am constructing it in a manic fashion because it is a manic puzzle.

I was just on Goodreads updating my 2014 challenge.  Some of these people's challenges are really ridiculous.  I upped my number for this year- I'm shooting for 30.  That's 2 or 3 books a month.  I just did the math on some ding-dong's challenge of 200 books.  That's over 16 books a month.  I got a good belly laugh over that.  And how about the person with 400?  Was that to make themselves sound smart?  Nope.  Fail.

I did my writing talk today.  It was an unprepared mess, but let's hope it was also an endearing mess.  It started all full of stage fright as it always does, but it calmed down when I was finally done with my notes and was discussing some things plainly with my audience.  But good grief.  Does that ever get better?

I talked to Dad tonight- he's getting better, doing physical therapy.  Yesterday he got to go outside (in a wheelchair with the physical therapist).  He said they played some improvised bocce ball, and he was super happy to sit in the sunshine.  His team is working on a consensus about when he will be able to go home.  They told him he won't be allowed to drive for a while, which he balked at, but says he will abide by the rules.  He says they have a fake apartment at the hospital where they're going to teach him how to do things like stand at the stove and cook.  Weird, huh?  No, wait.  Here's what's weird.

He won't be able to use the stairs for a while, so Laura (his girlfriend) and his friends are going to drag the bed from the upstairs guest room down into his music room, and the drums will be moved into the garage.  The music room is RIGHT next to the downstairs bathroom, which already has rails installed from the previous owner.  In the other direction from the music room is the kitchen and the living room- the two places where he spends most of his time.  Well, that and the deck, which is right off of those two rooms.  Everything he needs in that pretty large house is in a very compact area.  He's not sure if he'll be using a cane or even a walker, but on that note, guess what Laura does?  She's got a defense contractor business, but she's also got another business that's a nicer term that I can't think of right now for taking care of old people.  This woman helps with convalescing for a living. 

Not enough coincidences for you?  How about this: Dad already took an early out deal from his company.  He was already transitioning out- they don't really need him at work.  The onset of GBS struck during an interview at the company he wants to work for.  The numbness was not that bad at first, so he was able to walk out when the interview was done.  At the rate that feeling is coming back, his projected date to leave the hospital, and his response to therapy so far, he could potentially walk back into that company without aid as a new hire when that call comes.

Dad said he has looked at the bars in that downstairs shower many times, thinking that someday they might be of use to someone who stays at his house.  He just never thought that person would be him.

Strange.  As far as reasons to be stuck in a hospital go, I think this bizarre, out-of-nowhere, super rare syndrome is pretty acceptable.  I think it's understandable that I was mad, partially because that's just what I do, but also because it seems like a reasonable reaction when you don't have any idea why.  Suddenly, it feels like we're watching my favorite M. Night Shyamalan film.

On another strange note, I was contacted today by three male friends that I haven't spoken to in a long time.  All today, all completely unrelated to each other.  I mention that they are male because I currently do not have a large male presence in my life.  In fact, my world is almost entirely populated by females these days.  Something's up in the universe.

But weird is good.  Weird is not devastating or otherwise horrible.  Weird is only slightly disconcerting, mildly uncomfortable.  Since staying comfortable for too long means eventually approaching miserable, I am ready to welcome weird.  It's good that the balance is off.  It's time for the next thing.

Try and outdo this nightmare.

I had a wonderful dream last night, she said in a completely sarcastic way.

Didn't read my book so I wouldn't have more dreams about mountaineering, so instead I dreamed that a guy I was living with was cheating on me, only this time I was raising four of his kids. Then I was trying to figure out- wasn't there a big dog? No wait, that wasn't a dog, that was a lion. The guy had a full grown lion living in his house. He swore it was sweet, but I just spent my time waiting for to eat someone. What a restful night.

Book Review (Or: Oh, Was I Supposed to Be Doing Something?)

Tomorrow I am going to talk to this year's apprentice class about writing.  I have a lot that I would like to say in a concise manner, which means I need to be practicing and editing, but so far this evening I have been unable.  What could possibly keep me from preparing for such a neat and fun opportunity?  A book.

I suppose that's appropriate, but JEEE-ZUS, what a book.  Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer.  Go buy it, because you can't have mine.  I'm not even done with it yet, and it's already in my top ten favorites EVER.  I have been having terrifying dreams all night long about this book for several days, but oh my god, is it worth it.  There is a big difference between researching and writing about an event and actually living through it.  I had some idea about what happened- I'd seen some survival show, did some Wikipedia-ing (which is where I learned of this book, I think), and even watched a movie about it (which I do not recommend).  I suggest that you read nothing of it before you read this book.  I have been a fan of disaster stories for... ever, and perhaps some of you are not because they are so intense and scary, but I occasionally read historical fiction and science fiction and Shakespeare and instructional manuals, so you can read one killer (sorry) disaster book.Seriously- I finally located my bookmark on the floor where I dropped it and realized I hadn't stopped reading through a half hour dog walk, emptying the dishwasher, and making dinner.  I burned my fingers carrying the garlic toast rather than putting the book down to find a plate.

I need to get some thoughts out so I can feed my animals and get my talk out of the way so I can read more.  Seriously- I finally located my bookmark on the floor where I dropped it and realized I hadn't stopped reading since I got home- through a half hour dog walk, emptying the dishwasher, making dinner, and eating it.  I burned my fingers carrying the garlic toast rather than putting the book down long enough to find a plate.

Krakauer reaches the summit, but notes that "...the summit was really only the halfway point."
The summit is reached halfway through the book, and I love that physical connection.  I'm struck by that in an uncoincidental way, but also because 1) this clearly indicates that it will not be a quick descent and 2) isn't the summit always just the halfway point?  I always think about this in terms of a musician's rise to fame- they didn't start there, and they won't end there.

Also, there are two major life lessons not meted out, but evidenced.  One is that in the end and along the way, no one else is ultimately responsible for your safety, no matter who or how much you pay.  In situations that are no one's and everyone's fault, you may have to do all kinds of crazy things that you did not sign up for just to get out alive.  If you are extremely fortunate, you may have help, which is why the other lesson in here is about morality.  History will judge you by your humanity, not your accomplishments.  That sounds all cheesy and philosophical, but as you read about these very real life examples, you will be hard-pressed to disagree.

Not today, sorry.

Good grief.  I really don't think that I will ever be able to understand my stress level.  John told my boss about my dad's diagnosis and they were both standing there marveling at its rarity.  Then I was telling them that my dad was told it could be an auto-immune problem, which led us to mine, and my boss just pointed out to me that my thyroid problem may not be as well sorted out as originally thought, especially if I'm tired all the time.  I tend to assign blame to myself: I'm tired because I don't eat well enough, I'm tired because I don't get enough exercise.  I think these things are probably true, and certainly wouldn't hurt to improve, but she was saying that there is recent research that indicates more specific tests are needed to show what's actually working, and my doctor said yesterday that my ever-present shin rash could be a problem from the thyroid medicine.  GREAT.  John said we'd put in a note tomorrow to my endocrinologist.  There are benefits to working with nurses.

Right now I'm struggling with the fact that I have been craving Nevada Gold since I wrote my beer blog, and I really want to go have one after work, but I do not want their delicious, rich food.  I can't just have a beer.  And I really need to go do laundry anyway.  Poo.

Two bottles of beer on the wall

I have been drinking Coors Light for years.  It used to be a rare indulgence, but ever since the Great Emotional Train Wreck of 2012, there has constantly been beer in my fridge.  A few months ago, I asked Shannon (my favorite beer expert) what one might graduate to from "piss beer," as it's affectionately known in the beer world.  She made a couple suggestions and I did buy a different beer on that particular shopping trip, then went right back to my safety.

It's not that I won't drink anything else.  I have found other beers I liked, such as Great Basin's Nevada Gold.  I like to think of this as a huge step in legitimate beer.  Coors Light has been a safe bet for a long time in terms of cost, taste, and carb count, but after a recent discussion with the dietitian, I think I can explore a bit more.  I'm uninterested in wine, and while Southern Comfort and I shared many an interesting night, I am trying to be a good diabetic and she is a bad influence.

Tonight I bought Sam Adams' Boston Lager.  I think this was one that Shannon suggested, but I'll have to double check with her.  I know it was some Sam Adams beer.  I was told a while ago that my Coors Light problem means I like lagers, which would explain why I hate every pale ale I try.  I don't know that I will hate them forever, and like with Yorkshire Pudding, I will continue to try.

What I find interesting about my purchase is how it represents the way I incorporate change.  I was just strolling along through the grocery store, thinking about buying some beer and just like that, I was done with Coors Light.  I had asked questions some months before, had sampled other beers almost unintentionally, but there was never a conscious decision to switch.  I could have guessed that I was interested in a change, but there was no decision- it just happened.  Now, I could go back and revert to the old standard, but while I'm sure I will taste Coors Light again, I do feel like it will not be my preference.

There are a lot of things like this in my life: really comfortable habits that I continue on autopilot, but I feel really optimistic when something like this happens.  It makes me feel like I am not stuck, like my life will not look the same in ten, five, or even one year from now.  It makes me happy that I can surprise myself.  I keep thinking about how much I love my apartment and how I don't want to leave it, but it is a fact that I will leave it eventually, and it is also true that it will not always meet my needs so perfectly.

Way back when I was 13, I went with Amy to visit her dad in California.  Amy's grandmother made a dinner one night that was so tasty, we asked for seconds.  Her grandmother asked us why we thought we needed more just because it tasted good.  That stumped me.  It seemed so obvious why we wanted more, but I have been mulling over that question for... how old am I now?  I still can't say why, but I do know that leaving on a good note is a learned skill.  I just had that lesson reconfirmed yesterday when I out-sushied myself.  One more roll... was I insane?  No more sushi without several people to share it with.

So Jennyway... I am pleased with myself at the moment.  My apartment is clean and cozy, I have a small veggie lasagna in the oven, and I actually needed a bottle opener to drink my beer!  It's a little intense, but good, and that's pretty much how I'd like to describe my life, so I guess I tonight is about making a toast to other surprises to come.  Cheers.