14 August 2009
Not Quite
I might have spoken too soon. I feel better, yes, and I'm a good deal more mobile — but I'm still not quite there yet. Ugh. (No, wait — "Ugh" is too much. A sort of resigned "Sigh" would probably suit this situation better.)
12 August 2009
Blueprint
I really have no idea what this is supposed to be (but at least my son has provided detailed directions for how to build it).
05 August 2009
Better
The strength is slowly returning to my lower back, which is most welcome. I've had quite enough of not being able to do, well, most anything.
Of course, the house looks like it hasn't been cleaned in two weeks (even though I've only been out of sorts for a few days) so I have that to look forward to. Ugh.
Of course, the house looks like it hasn't been cleaned in two weeks (even though I've only been out of sorts for a few days) so I have that to look forward to. Ugh.
03 August 2009
Back
Ages ago, when I was in college, I had a good friend who used to suffer from terrible menstrual cramps. I think she used to take Motrin (which was still relatively new at that time), which I had thought was a muscle relaxant. Years later, though, it seems to be nothing more than the same Ibuprofen found in virtually every other over-the-counter pain reliever.
I helped an old friend move, a few years ago. He is an avid reader and an accumulator of stuff — and had lived in the same apartment for ten or fifteen years. What was supposed to have taken a day took three, and as a result, I sprained my back. (That's much more serious than it sounds!) Ever since, every so often, it comes back to bother me, usually after I've done something thoughtless to provoke it. Yesterday, it was helping to carry a new mattress up the stairs.
It isn't so much the pain or discomfort that bothers me, just that when these episodes occur, I have almost no strength in my lower back. I can still get around, slowly but surely — I shuffle around sort of comically for awhile, then with a bit more energy once my back muscles loosen up — but if I sit down, getting back up becomes a complex process of shifting my weight and finding a way to lever myself to a standing position, or at least something I can pull myself up by.
It inevitably goes away in a few days — but it's not much fun until then. Ugh.
I helped an old friend move, a few years ago. He is an avid reader and an accumulator of stuff — and had lived in the same apartment for ten or fifteen years. What was supposed to have taken a day took three, and as a result, I sprained my back. (That's much more serious than it sounds!) Ever since, every so often, it comes back to bother me, usually after I've done something thoughtless to provoke it. Yesterday, it was helping to carry a new mattress up the stairs.
It isn't so much the pain or discomfort that bothers me, just that when these episodes occur, I have almost no strength in my lower back. I can still get around, slowly but surely — I shuffle around sort of comically for awhile, then with a bit more energy once my back muscles loosen up — but if I sit down, getting back up becomes a complex process of shifting my weight and finding a way to lever myself to a standing position, or at least something I can pull myself up by.
It inevitably goes away in a few days — but it's not much fun until then. Ugh.
02 August 2009
Myrna Loy
I've been trying to watch The Rains Came, but I've become bored with it. And Myrna Loy seems to be in this sort of awkward phase between young and vivacious (in The Thin Man series) and more mature and beautiful (as she was in, say, The Best Years of Our Lives). Or maybe that's just that the character she's playing, cold and distant.
01 August 2009
Seven
Today was my son's birthday. He's just turned seven.
In many ways, his being a six-year-old was the longest year of his life, for me. That could be because I was more emotionally "here" than I have been in recent years (that's a digression for another day), or perhaps because this was the year he became more self-contained, more of a separate and distinct individual, following his own chosen path. (I prefer the latter explanation.) Whatever it was, it feels like he's been six-years-old forever. I'm sure it's going to be a few weeks before I stop reflexively typing "my six-year-old."
(The Wild Raspberry Ice Cream was lovely, by the way. When you first taste it, it seems more vanilla than anything — but when your tongue finds a bit of raspberry it all sort of explodes in flavor. I've used the rest of the raspberries to make more this evening.)
In many ways, his being a six-year-old was the longest year of his life, for me. That could be because I was more emotionally "here" than I have been in recent years (that's a digression for another day), or perhaps because this was the year he became more self-contained, more of a separate and distinct individual, following his own chosen path. (I prefer the latter explanation.) Whatever it was, it feels like he's been six-years-old forever. I'm sure it's going to be a few weeks before I stop reflexively typing "my six-year-old."
(The Wild Raspberry Ice Cream was lovely, by the way. When you first taste it, it seems more vanilla than anything — but when your tongue finds a bit of raspberry it all sort of explodes in flavor. I've used the rest of the raspberries to make more this evening.)
AOL
I read this week that Google, which had bought a 5% stake in AOL in late 2005 for about $1 Billion, recently sold it back to Time Warner for a mere $283 million (or about 28% of what they paid for it).
I was working for a division of Time Warner when AOL bought the company, about ten years ago. I think most of us were largely indifferent to the transaction (and I doubt any of us could foresee that AOL would so quickly become unnecessary). But we did receive free AOL accounts. I don't think I ever used mine. (Back in the day, anyone who knew better wouldn't be caught out with an AOL email address.) It wasn't long, though, before there were reasons to be resentful.
First among them was this ill-conceived (and thankfully short-lived) idea that we should all be using AOL for out inter-office e-mail. (I imagine AOL had an idea that they could offer this as a service to the corporate world, and forcing their own employees to use it was the way to smooth out the rough edges.) For security reasons, we would all be provided with an electronic device (it was commonly referred to as a "key fob") which would generate an ever-changing sequence of numbers, a code we'd need to be able to login to our accounts. (I found an article about all this here.) You know, I honestly don't remember if we ever did use them.
And not only was using AOL slow and cumbersome, it was also ad-supported ― which meant that every time we accessed our e-mail we'd have to see paid advertising. I complained bitterly about that.
In fact, I remember being so resentful at having to use AOL that I installed an alternative program, Claris Emailer, which could access AOL's mail service. This was the sort of stuff that irritated the IT Department no end (one of a long, long list of transgressions I was responsible for through the years), but I was not going to give in without a fight.
In all, I don't think this endeavor lasted more than a few weeks before everything returned to the way it was. (It would be the first of many, many failures in the AOL Time Warner merger.)
I was working for a division of Time Warner when AOL bought the company, about ten years ago. I think most of us were largely indifferent to the transaction (and I doubt any of us could foresee that AOL would so quickly become unnecessary). But we did receive free AOL accounts. I don't think I ever used mine. (Back in the day, anyone who knew better wouldn't be caught out with an AOL email address.) It wasn't long, though, before there were reasons to be resentful.
First among them was this ill-conceived (and thankfully short-lived) idea that we should all be using AOL for out inter-office e-mail. (I imagine AOL had an idea that they could offer this as a service to the corporate world, and forcing their own employees to use it was the way to smooth out the rough edges.) For security reasons, we would all be provided with an electronic device (it was commonly referred to as a "key fob") which would generate an ever-changing sequence of numbers, a code we'd need to be able to login to our accounts. (I found an article about all this here.) You know, I honestly don't remember if we ever did use them.
And not only was using AOL slow and cumbersome, it was also ad-supported ― which meant that every time we accessed our e-mail we'd have to see paid advertising. I complained bitterly about that.
In fact, I remember being so resentful at having to use AOL that I installed an alternative program, Claris Emailer, which could access AOL's mail service. This was the sort of stuff that irritated the IT Department no end (one of a long, long list of transgressions I was responsible for through the years), but I was not going to give in without a fight.
In all, I don't think this endeavor lasted more than a few weeks before everything returned to the way it was. (It would be the first of many, many failures in the AOL Time Warner merger.)