It's back

Sinus infection.


As promised, Mom, I procured two homeopathic remedies and made and drank the special broth. As of yet, no change. In fact, it's worse.

Incidentally, "taste of perilla is similar to that of dog."

Now in cool cherry blast!

I've been home for three days straight sitting on the sofa feeling disoriented , dizzy, and tired. At first I thought it was just the two bottles of Robitussin that my doctor recommended for the uncontrollable cough, but even when I ran out I still felt weird. During intermittent periods of lucidity, I also spent some time standing on my head thanks to my new yoga blocks, since being upside down is supposed to be good for the body. The cough is nearly gone.

Although I can never, ever regain the last 72 hours of my life, at least I have gotten some work done on the sweater I started last fall. And, taking care of my upstairs neighbor's 23-year-old cat (sadly, lame and dying of cancer) has given me a sense of reality and purpose. I think I should have stuck to my tween ambitions and become a veterinarian, instead of a bum, which is what I am.

I caved

Originally uploaded by Lisa H..

Last year I taught myself to knit and, in keeping with my general under-achiever personality type, I have only finished a few projects, several of which no one would be caught dead wearing. Harnessing the amazing power of my internet-addiction in my efforts at knitting auto-didactery, I discovered the vast world of knitting blogs. They were indeed helpful, but overwhelming in scope and concept. I promised myself that if, in the unlikely event of my own personal blog, it would not be a knitting blog. Since I am a poor knitter with no real dedication to the craft, that was a good decision. But Laura R.'s general craftiness and her encouragement of same in other bloggers (and former bloggers) finally made me cave. Thus, I am presenting my most recent finished project. (Hint: it's a tea cozy.) The pattern was basic; I added the decorative flourishes myself.


I shudder to think that March is just around the corner, and soon it will be time to get out that spring sweater I didn't finish last year - the one with $120 worth of fancy italian yarn - so that I can rip it all out, start over, and have it done by the end of July, maybe.

Year of the Blog

As some of you may be aware, this new Lunar Year is the Year of the Cock - and this is also the year that ushered in my new blog!

(Note that I was also born in the Year of the Cock. Coincidence? No.)

Needless to say, I have overblown hopes for the Year of the Cock. All bets are on that, in addition to the incredible success of my blog, the YoC will feature:

*A fantastic job that leads to financial solvency and powerful feelings of self-worth
*The completion of my doctoral dissertation (with honors) on necrophilia in 18th century english poetry
*Losing the beer belly
*A new X-box, or an opportunity to sue Microsoft Corp. for property damage
*Laser hair removal (c'mon, NY Lotto!)
*True love
*A major cast shake-up on The O.C.
*A strange encounter with Vin Diesel

Just say "no"

As a formal protest against today's festivities, I will not be posting my thoughts and observations.

Cheesecake, vulvas, arthritis

I really think I need to describe some particular design elements of The Cheesecake Factory before I can move on to other topics. The Factory is a cavernous eatery (more than just cheesecake!) done up in a florid art-deco style. A unique feature of each of the many wooden booths is a very tall pedestal-style lighting fixture in the unmistakeable shape of a vulva. It wasn't "just me" - everyone noticed that we were surrounded by vulvas. It made for an unusual dining experience.

If you'd like a first-hand look at the aforementioned vulvas, check out the 360˚ tour of a typical The Cheesecake Factory. (Click on the link to the left on their "About Us" page.)

I must add that I really don't like the word "vulva." Not only is it too close to "Volvo," but there is something disturbing about the way it sticks in the back of the throat in the American English pronunciation - like a tongue depressor. Perhaps it would sound nicer in an Italian or Spanish accent, but I'd rather just say "special place" and leave it at that. And don't even get me started on "pudendum!"

Today I saw my N.P. and told her I think I've been suffering from a chronic, low grade sinus infection, to which she replied that I am "a very good diagnostician." (So I *do* know what I'm talking about, oh ye of little faith in my innate medical expertise.) She showed me my blood results and unfortunately everything is "normal," except for high sodium and low B-12 levels, which might explain the endless fatigue. Then I told her about the cluster of other problems I've been experiencing (hip discomfort, severe neuralgia, decreased ROM) and she thinks it might even be arthritis. So at 35, I have an arthritic hip, which means that I will probably need a total hip replacement by the time I'm 60.

Cheesecake

Tonight we saw a colleague off to his new post as an engineer in the Army Medical Corps. To celebrate, we went to The Cheesecake Factory in White Plains. I tend to eschew any dining establishment with the word "factory" in its name, but the cheesecake was actually pretty ok. In lieu of a recipe today, I've included a link to their corporate website.

I am finally seeing my (physician) doctor tomorrow about the recurring dry cough, ever-present weakness, and chronic sciatica. In addition, I have been working to quell what some might consider a stubborn streak of amorality in my nature (as evidenced by some earlier posts), but so far fervent prayer and/or additional doses of Ambien have not helped, nor has masturbation (mostly because I fall asleep first). Rest assured, I will keep everyone abreast of my developments.

Tabula Rasa/rijsttafel

Some of you may have noticed recent changes to previous posts.
I made these tough editorial choices because:

* People say I have "boundary issues."

* I have begun to worry excessively that someone I don't know (or do know) will Google me and read my blog without my knowledge or expressed permission, even though this is technically impossible (I know because I have already Googled myself at least 25 times today!).

* I have "inappropriate" confessional impulses, according to my psychoanalyst, the eminent Dr. Seth Aronson.

* If anyone I wrote about read what I wrote about him, I would be unable to defend myself against charges of slander or invasion of privacy. I am no Ann Coulter!

* There is something ethically ambigious about this whole blogging thing, no matter what Kurt says.



From now on, this blog will be dedicated to publishing easy-to-make, nutritious, and delicious recipes from around the world (click on title for more).

Jam or sex? You decide!

Today I made jam - apple and ginger - because I had a lot of old pulpy apples lying around and I hate wasting food. Now I have five jars, two bowls, and a small ramekin of apple-ginger jam to deal with.

I think staying indoors for 48 hour stretches is having a negative effect on me - I'm tired and lethargic all the time and I can't seem to focus. On the other hand, it could be carbon monoxide poisoning, as I have alleged to some of you in the past.

****** EDITED FOR ADULT CONTENT********

I would end this post with something cute like "Is this an impossible dream?," but unfortunately for me, it's neither impossible, nor a dream. Nor cute. And now it's completely out of context!

Date Update: for those who want to know

My date just ended. I have a splitting headache after two quartinos of wine, but it was well worth it (plus, he paid). We got along very well, had fun, and "really seemed to connect." For those of you who may be wondering: Yes, he is Jewish. And English.

***************EDITED FOR PRIVACY/PARANOIA******************

Those of you who know me well know that I need another friend like I need a(nother) hole in the head. Your thoughts, prayers, and donations are appreciated.

FYI, the engraving is of Benjamin Disraeli, another important English Jew that we should all get to know better.

In other news

Still no news from Dr. "Z", but in other news, my mother finally visited my blog AND posted a comment! (cf. "Is it a tumor?") She always said I was relentless, and as you will see, it finally paid off. At last, emotional validation. And in the end, isn't that all anyone really wants?

For those of you who are enjoying the delicious romantic tenterhooks (see yesterday's post), I will add an update re: the date ensuite.

We mourn the passing of Ossie Davis.


PS: It was subtly requested of me that for the sake of privacy I remove the picture formerly posted here, and replace it with a less "personal" image.

Date

Tomorrow I'm going on a date with someone I do not know!

Beauty sleep is a must, as are those 'special exercises'.

The next post will include some thoughts, comments, and musings on my dating experience and any prospects for the future.

Still no news

I have not heard from my doctor yet re: my test results. Because he is Austrian, I expect him to go about his work with utmost efficiency, which he often delivers. While I assume his eerie silence is merely because he has not yet had time to review my results, I am well aware that they may (as per usual) indicate that - in the words of too many medical professionals- "there's nothing wrong."

This possibility would not, however, account for why I felt weak and uncomfortable most of the afternoon - or was noticeably piqued throughout our weekly staff meeting - until my supervisor kindly hand-fed me some mn'm's. (Or is that "eminem's"?)

I have to lie down now.

This is called "So very tired," which is why I posted it. If you have the energy, then click on the title of this post, and you will learn more.

Is it a tumor?

I had my yearly (routine) blood work done today and am now awaiting the results on tenterhooks. I see the phlebotomist only once a year but she always remembers me, which is good when a person is inserting a sharp object into a vein and then sucking your life essence into a catheter. As always, I fear some kind of unexpected diagnosis, although the only reason for these labs is to gauge the general level of chemicals introduced to my bloodstream, and to check if my liver is still functioning. While I and many others who may read this know all too well that it's a luxury for the terminally healthy to entertain fears about terminal illness, it is also true that a surprising number of diseases (such as leukemia) are discovered by way of "routine" blood tests. Nevertheless, it is also fair to say that if there is something wrong, I will not find it strangely ironic, nor will I be writing about it in my blog.


Even though I invited her - days ago - to visit my blog, I know my mother is not going to read this. Therefore, please let me - in the words of Slavoj Zižek - "enjoy my symptom." Don't burst this delicious bubble of morbidity, no matter what you suspect she or my psychoanalyst might say. However, if you are reading this, Mom, why haven't you commented on any of my posts yet?