Plundering, Thievery, and Other Shenanigans

We have some family members (technically they are distant cousins, but they’re really more of friends to us) who live in Columbus, on a street where there are unfortunately a few homes that have been let go back to the mortgage companies.  It’s a pretty common problem in Central Ohio, and some neighborhoods like up around the Linden, Kenmore Park, and Oakland Park areas have been hit especially hard due to the predatory lenders that handed out loans like candy over the past several years.  

We were visiting at their house over the summer and got to talking about a house that is a few doors down from them that had recently been repossessed by the bank.  The detached garage had a broken down door, so we decided to take a stroll over and see if there was anything worthwhile inside, or if maybe there were some things that needed to be thrown away so they didn't attract pests.  There were so many pieces of garbage inside that garage, including an old wooden cable spool kinda like this one: 

I saw it and thought about swiping it to use for a project, but I didn't want to draw much attention since the residents across the alley were out on their back porch singing Kumbaya or something like that.  Interesting neighbors.   I found some other discarded items in the garage - some vintage Life Magazines (one of which was from June 1969 - the Apollo moon landing); also a neat old Reader’s Digest book.  Those items I was able to remove pretty stealthily, but I left the spool in the garage for fear that someone would call the cops on me for (basically) cleaning out the trash.

About a month and a half later I was back at our cousins' house, this time for their daughter's birthday party.  I took a few minutes to casually stroll down the alley and happened to notice that the spool was still in the garage.. obviously the door was still breached.  A quick removal and a drop over the neighbor’s fence into the back alley was all that was needed, and it was all mine!  Unfortunately I didn't think about spiders or other creepy crawlies until I got this thing hauled into the back of my car... good thing I had some duct tape with me (doesn't everyone carry it around in their car?) so I covered all of the holes in the spool so I could at least get it home without a brown recluse spider crawling out and murdering me.  I was absolutely sure that this would have happened, had I not sealed it inside of the spool with pink duct tape.  Have I ever mentioned that I don't like HATE spiders? 

I got the spool home and dissected it...  the "core" of it was nothing but cardboard, so I had to build a new center for support.  I used some scrap 2x4's and stood them on end in a pattern that kind of resembles something from a quilting class:

Once I had the center built, I added 3/4" hardwood dowels around the perimeter.  Part for decoration, part for stability, and part as book dividers.  The dowels were counter-sunk into the top disc of the spool using a 3/4" spade drill bit, then I ran 1-1/2" wood screws up through the bottom and into the center of each dowel, which I pre-drilled to prevent splitting.  

I put the metal rods back through the spool to hold it all together (there's actually nothing else bonding the top to the bottom, since the dowels are not pinned around the top), then I shot it with a few five coats of spray paint and added four swivel casters to the base so I could roll it around or spin it, if needed.  

I dragged it into my living room and started filling it with books... and more books, and even MORE books - fifty-five in all!!  I was shocked at what fit on this little coffee table! 

I am loving the final result - a perfectly functional and fun table, that I spent only about $15 building (dowels and spray paint).  Added bonus?  It's a movable footstool for my couches, and no one could ever say yell, "Get your feet off the coffee table!" because it's not a coffee table - it's just something I threw together using scrap wood and a spool that was otherwise destined for the landfill. 

I Freakin' Love Weddings!

I had the opportunity to help create a little bit of magic for a dear friend’s wedding last weekend…  She had asked me in the spring about baking cupcakes for her wedding, and of course I wanted to help her out with it – cupcakes are my specialty!!  I also wanted to be able to give her a unique gift… something that couldn't be bought.  (I’m all about the uniqueness, if you can’t tell from the other posts here)

Tara had shown me a couple of products on Etsy that she really liked – they were cake stands that were made from slices of logs – very rustic in their composition, but still so beautiful!  I immediately scoffed at the price of these ‘handcrafted’ cake stands ($80 plus for some dead trees? Come on.)  So I told her, “Oh, I can totally make those for you – don’t you worry!!”   Never mind the fact that I don’t have a woodpile at my house since I don’t have a wood-burning fireplace, and I’m not exactly a lumberjack… I just happen to be a creative and cheap frugal person, which I totally attribute to my parents’ teachings over the years… If I am the Princess of Upcycling, then they are the King and Queen of Resourcefulness. 

Fast forward a month or two from our talk about tree cake stands… I arrived home from work one Friday and found my prized Buckeye tree lying in the yard.  Not even the whole tree… the entire canopy had come down, but the trunk just stood there, mocking me.  After I let our a string of expletives that would make a sailor cringe, I busted out my junky little electric chainsaw and stripped the limbs off the main trunks so we could haul everything away… I mean, what the heck was I going to do with this stupid tree??   Can’t take buckeye nuts off it anymore… can’t use it for smoking barbecue because it doesn't burn well…  
**insert light-bulb-over-head moment here**  
My dad had just bought himself a fancy-pants new Stihl chainsaw, which he said “cut through logs like butter”.  I decided his chainsaw needed a good test, so I asked if he could come over and help me with the tree dissection.  Sure thing!  He brought over his chainsaw that weekend and I had him slice up some discs of the tree – about an inch and a half thick, from different limbs/trunk pieces so I had an assortment of diameters to choose from for my next project. He didn't ask what I was making… he never asks anymore, since he knows it’s either a hare-brained idea, or it’s positively brilliant.   Mostly hare-brained, but I digress…

If you’ve ever cut up buckeye wood, you know that it’s very lightweight – think balsa wood.  It is horrible for really anything to do with construction, but it’s fabulous for little projects because it’s light enough to carve, cut, shape or even bend, to a degree.   I didn’t know if the buckeye wood would work (say that 3 times fast), but I wanted to give it a try.  I placed the wood discs and an assortment of cut branches into a little portable greenhouse box that I have in my yard.  It cooked the crap out of my vegetable seedlings earlier this year, so I knew it would be ideal for “kiln-drying” the wood pieces!   I left the pieces to roast in the sun for a few weeks, then I assembled the stands using nothing but a drill, some drywall screws, and some wood putty.  They were rustic, alright… but just what I had in mind!

In addition to the dozens and dozens of cupcakes, I also made Tara and Allan a special cake tier to cut… I couldn't bear the idea of them looking back at wedding pics down the road and thinking,  “Why didn't we have a REAL cake instead of just cupcakes?”  I remember watching an episode of that “Four Weddings” show on TLC one afternoon… the bride and groom had met while working at a pizza shop (or maybe it was their first date – whatever) and they thought they were just so clever and used a pizza to cut for their photos, then had an ice cream sundae buffet for guests.  Idiots.  All I could think of when I was watching this was how mortified they will be when they’re thinking back later about how they were trying to be unique and clever and they looked like morons on national TV…Now, Tara and Allan’s wedding wasn’t televised (and they certainly wouldn’t have looked like morons anyway!) but I still thought it still might be nice for them to have a “real” cake for cutting.

For their cake, I prepared a three-layer 6” round tier of carrot cake, and I decorated it with some edible maple leaves made from tinted confectioner’s coating – basically white candy “bark” with vanilla flavoring. Tara didn't believe me at first that the leaves were edible until I shoved one in her mouth (what are friends for?) and her now-husband didn’t believe that I made them.. but I did!  

The leaves are really pretty easy once you get the hang of it.. messy as hell, but they’re gorgeous when they’re done!  All you do is take a silk leaf of your choice, wash and dry well, and spray with non-stick spray such as canola oil.   Prepare your candy coating or chocolate as directed, then dab it all over one side of each leaf with a pastry brush or with your finger in about a 1/8” thick layer.  I like to mix colors in a marbled pattern - think fall leaves turning.  Place on waxed paper-lined trays, and refrigerate until set.  Peel the silk leaves from the chocolate once set, then you can continue to refrigerate the completed leaves for up to a month – just store in an airtight container between layers of waxed paper.   I waited until I arrived at the venue before I placed the leaves on the cake, which was frosted with vanilla buttercream.  I find that simpler is usually better when you're trying to make something pretty and classy. 

  

I've included some of my own photos from the wedding, but I also wanted to share the photographer’s blog since she did such a beautiful job capturing the moment! 

BBQ & This Slaw Go Together Like Bacon & Anything

I am being perfectly honest when I say I am NOT a coleslaw fan.  I tend to avoid the mayonnaise-y creamy slaw on any menu, even if I'm chowing down on some killer BBQ.  Per nearly every BBQ connoisseur I know, these two Southern staples are supposed to go together.  Personally,  I prefer not to defile that smoky goodness with an average coleslaw.  Very rarely will I step outside of my slaw-snobbery comfort zone and try something different... occasionally with favorable results. 

When we were on our annual summer baseball trip, we stopped at this fantastic little BBQ joint in Milwaukee's Third Ward, the Smoke Shack.  This detour was at the recommendation of our tour guide, Mike, from Untapped Tours. (thanks, Mike!!)  The Smoke Shack had a diverse menu, covering everything from Texas BBQ to Carolina sauce, and they had a few items highlighted on the menu as being gluten free (which always catches my eye).

To the best of my memory and ability, I've reverse-engineered a pretty darn close version of the Smoke Shack's Vinegar Slaw... a good thing, too, since it's about 400 miles each way to get another helping otherwise!  

Ingredients:

2 medium carrots, peeled and grated

1 Gala apple, peeled & cored, grated

1/4 sweet Vidalia onion, grated

1/4 cup raisins (Thompson or golden, doesn't matter), chopped fine

1.5 pounds red cabbage, grated (for reference, I had a 2.6 pound head of cabbage and used about 2/3 of it after coring and peeling the outside leaves)

Combine above ingredients in a large glass bowl; set aside.  

Note - for all of the "grated" or "chopped" items, I used my trusty old food processor...  God love the folks at Cuisinart for making my life a bit easier!! 

Dressing:

1.5 teaspoons celery salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

3 tablespoons mayonnaise

2/3 cup tarragon vinegar or champagne vinegar

1/3 cup olive oil

1/3 cup vegetable oil

1/3 cup granulated sugar

Place all of the dressing ingredients in the bowl of the food processor, cover and pulse to combine.  Toss with the cabbage mixture; allow to sit for about 10 minutes before serving.   Store leftovers in a glass or plastic bowl in the fridge.  I wouldn't recommend storing in metal bowls, since flavors can be turned with the acid/metal combo. 

Garden Schmarden

I was SOOOOOOO excited about planting a garden this year!!   I started a whole bunch of crops from seed...  herbs, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, lettuces...  ahhhhh the possibilities were going to be endless!  I tended to them every day when they were just little sprouts in my kitchen window, happily basking in the sunshine... I watered them and rotated them and loved them, all the while thinking of the amazing recipes I was going to create with my organic crops!   I transplanted them to peat pots with happy potting soil and moved them outside to live in the real world, out for all of the elements... fresh air, sunshine, warm breezes...  they LOVED being outside!

And then I got the brainy idea that I needed a greenhouse for them, just until there was no more threat of frost.  I bought it a few weeks ago and moved all of the plants into it... and then I forgot about them one morning when the forecast was warmer than average for early May.   And they got cooked. Not just, "I think they'll make it!! Give them some water, STAT!" kind of cooked...  more like, "I abandoned them in the Sahara Desert" kind of fried.  I was so sad!!  I watered them for a few days, thinking that they'd bounce back... a few of the lettuces showed some signs of life, but the vast majority of the plants were beyond saving.  I was crushed.  I failed at gardening (again!).  I destroyed poor, helpless little plant wonders that were going to be my ticket to grocery store freedom all summer long!   I single-handedly (and absent-mindedly) neglected something so simple to grow, something that would have beneficial to have all through the summer and into the fall...  and all because I just *had* to have that damn greenhouse.  That $29 vinyl atrocity from Big Lots. That plant-murdering-pvc-smelling piece of crap hot box of horrors...

I'm a little bitter about the whole thing.

Decorating Merry-Go-Round

I have re-arranged and re-decorated my living room *yet* again, in pursuit of a fun, happy, lively room that is easy living but contains some elements of high design.  I spent several weeks months scouring stores, catalogs, and the web, trying to find the perfect curtains to hang in my living room.  I wanted something colorful, bold, and beautiful... but also something that was durable and mostly cat-hair resistant.  I was looking for pre-made curtains at first, then after consulting my mom (a fabulous seamstress) I determined that the best way to get what I wanted was to make it custom.  Bah.   I am not much for sewing, although I enjoy the occasional home project... and curtains were outside of my comfort zone for sure.  My mom, bless her heart, offered to help with the planning and sewing, so I was off on my hunt again - this time looking for the perfect fabric.  During my pursuit I came across the wide world of indoor-outdoor fabrics - they're sun-fade resistant, they're generally made of polyester (so low-static); they come in a wide range of patterns and colors.  I swear I thought I hit the home decor jackpot!!  And then it came time to order said fabric.  You would have thought I was trying to purchase a unicorn, the way that I kept getting shut down on fabric websites... my local fabric store carried a nice selection of patterns, but nothing that really caught my eye.  I found a few online-only vendors who carried a pattern that I loved:

and happily placed an order at the vendor with the lowest price per yard. A few days later,  I was sadly notified that the fabric was out of stock, and they didn't know when they'd get more in... I was devastated!!   I placed an order with the next-lowest-priced vendor... out of stock there, too... It was a conspiracy created to keep me from ordering this fabric, let me tell you!

Then, as I was trolling the web, feverishly looking for "my" fabric, I found another pattern that caught my eye.  I figured it was a fluke - that the colors would be off, that the pattern would be too small... something was going to be wrong.  But I took a leap of faith, tapped my credit card number into the order form, and crossed my fingers and toes that this would all work out...

                           

About a week later, I arrived home from work to find a big roll of fabric at my doorstep, all bundled nice and neat in a box, in some bubble wrap, around a bolt... it was packaged so well that I thought I'd never get to see it!   And then I got past the bubble wrap and plastic sleeve, and was horrified to learn that they'd wrapped the plain white lining fabric on the OUTSIDE of the bolt, leaving me with fourteen yards of fabric to transfer from one roll to another.....



You remember that exercise that you can do with a stick, a rope, and a free weight?

(Yep, that one. I curse the sadist gym rat who came up with it...)

Wrist-rolls, I think they call this torture device?   Yeah, well try doing that with fourteen yards of 54" wide heavy polyester decorator fabric.  You'll never look at a trip to the gym the same way again.  I had forearms of steel by the time that I was done with that Herculean feat!

At last I got to the good stuff - the floral fabric I'd hedged my bets on, since it was non-returnable clearance fabric.   I unrolled a yard or two onto my dining room table... and I. LOVED. IT.  It was gorgeous!  It had all of "my" colors!  (and did I mention it was on clearance?)

My mom came over a few days later, and we held a marathon curtain-sewing in my dining room, interrupted only by lunch and a trip to Lowe's for some new window hardware (I needed curtain rings, then I also decided that the curtain rods I had previously were not quite substantial enough).

Here's some photos of the fruits of our labor - I think you'll find that this is a little more punchy and fun than the last rendition of the living room!  I've also included some photos of new artwork that I created from some vacation photos I shot in Nashville last fall...  Love how those turned out!!

Project Avocado Tree (and Guacamole!)

A few weeks back I was making some lovely guacamole and I thought to myself, "Self, we should figure out how to grow these yummy little fruits so we don't have to spend our hard earned cash on them any longer."  (Yes, I do occasionally address myself in the third person, and include 'Self' and 'me' as a grouping of people collectively referred to as "we".  Don't be a hater.)

Anyway, I was scheming to make as much guac as possible, with minimal investment.  I figured that I live in Ohio so growing limes is probably out...  ok, we can buy those at the grocery.  Onions have always seemed a little too complicated, plus I've got the chipmunks from hell in my backyard - they especially like tulip bulbs, but really any bulb-like growth is good enough for them to hone their choppers.   I already grow tomatoes, serranos and cilantro in the summertime, so short of digging a salt mine in my basement, I can procure most of the ingredients from my own property when they're in season.

I started by carefully removing the pits from two avocados. This is a lot more difficult as it sounds, because I usually go on auto-pilot and give those pits a good whack to get the heel of my chef's knife to stick in there, then I twist the pit out and pop it off from the backside of the blade with a pinch.   If you're not planning to save your pits, you can follow this process.  (I like to think of it as sort of a culinary voodoo doll - highly therapeutic.  LOL)

I set the pits off to the side for later usage as cash cows trees and set to work chopping the avocado into chunks.  Place these in a bowl, and sprinkle with about two tablespoons of lemon or lime juice.  *Note* I am not a purist, and will never require someone to squeeze juice from fresh citrus.  Dollar for dollar, bottled juices are a much better value, even if you purchase an organic brand.  I do recommend that you get a natural juice product, and not the imitation juices that come in a fruit-shaped squeezy bottle in the produce department.  They're cute, but they're not very tasty.  Toss the avocado with the juice of your choice and set this aside.

Finely chop up a bit (maybe a tablespoon or two) of sweet or red onion, whatever you have on hand, and add this to the chunked-up avocado.  Chop a small handful of cilantro and add this to the mix. Add a bit of chopped hot pepper if you desire - this can either be garden-fresh, or a couple of slices of pickled jalapenos from a jar.  Sprinkle in some salt to taste, mash it around a bit with a fork if you want a smoother texture, then you can either stop right here, or you can funk up your guac the way I do - with chopped tomatoes.

To say that I love tomatoes is an understatement.  When I was a child, I steadfastly refused to eat salads, so my mom would prepare me a special salad that consisted of chopped tomatoes and Marzetti's Sweet and Sour dressing.  (I still love my tomatoes served that way!)  I'll eat them chopped, stewed, pureed, mashed, juiced... even plucked fresh from the vine and munched like an apple.  So I always add tomato to my guacamole, but I leave out the tomato seeds since they can get bitter in a hurry.  You can try to seed the tomatoes by quartering and squeezing them, or you can use my method - I call it Being Cheeky.

First I take the bottom off of a tomato (I prefer Romas, for their relative lack of seeds and goo). 

Then I stand the tomato up on that flat bottom, and take my knife down the side to take off a "cheek"

Repeat this process around the entire tomato, and push out the seeds.  You can pitch the core, or use it in another recipe if you need some tomato flesh without the skin. 

Dice the tomato finely, add this to the guacamole, and either refrigerate before serving, or serve right away at room temperature.  I sometimes like to get a little fancy and serve it in the avocado shells like this:

Store your leftover guacamole (what's that?) in a container with a lid in the fridge.  If you press some plastic wrap down on the surface, this will help to prevent browning.  Keeps for up to three days.  

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Part II - The Avocado Tree.  To Be Continued... 

I am Never Here.

I've been missing from the blogosphere for a long-ass time... no real excuse other than I dropped the habit.

It's kind of like going to the gym - you stop going for a few days, then you buy some Girl Scout Cookies, then you go in the grocery store (out front of which they're pushing those cookies like smack) and you buy a two liter of Mountain Dew to wash down the cookies... then you wake up one afternoon with the remote stuck to your head, watching an "Ellen" rerun and realizing that you probably ought to get back to the gym.  By this point it's far too depressing, so you hop on over to HSN to get yourself some stylish stretchy pants.  Well, I went past the stretchy pants and on into muumuu land, blog-speaking.  I went from sporadically blogging......to rarely blogging......to "I can't remember my Blogger handle".   *Sigh*

Good news though...  I'm BACK!!!    I've been working around the house some more, figuring out some stuff to change in the yard, learning a little bit about some gardening that I hope will rock our grocery budget this summer, and generally becoming a more rounded blogger individual.

Oh, The Places I Go...

Over the past few weeks I've enjoyed the luxury of using the ubiquitous "Mart-Cart" devices to tool around local grocery and "big-box" stores.  If you read some of my prior notes, you'll understand the depths of my disdain for these ridiculous devices and for the (typical) people who occupy them.  I was at a local grocery store the other day - the store shall remain nameless, although I can tell you that it sits at the southeast corner of Route 256 and Refugee.  Anyway, I made my way into the store on my crutches, and to my dismay, there were NO electric wheelchairs, and no manual chairs either.  As I was still completely non-weight-bearing at the time, I didn't have a choice but to use one of those damn carts.  So I tracked down the cart boy (is that still a PC title for them?) and asked if he knew if they had any of the carts at the other entrance to the store... No, they didn't have any more.  I then asked him to politely and quietly stalk the next person in line who had a cart, so that he could follow them to the parking lot and return the cart to me.  He giggled at my request, but went inside the store (I was in the cart-area near the outside doors) and waited for an older gentleman who was just finishing up his purchases at the checkout.
As I waited, I noticed an older woman rolling slowly out of the store on another electric cart.  At first I thought that maybe she had just picked up the cart and the battery was dying... alas, she didn't return to the charging station.  Instead, she rolls over to the "Marketplace" furniture display at the front window and strikes up a conversation with an equally old woman who had parked herself on the sofa display.  The woman on the cart was telling a story about her winning $2 lottery ticket.  That's right, Lotto Tickets.  Her lazy carcass couldn't even waddle 15 feet to the service desk so she had to get an electric wheelchair to go get her scratch-off ticket fix???   I'm being nice when I say that this woman was "overweight"... she had managed to pour herself into this horrible dusty-purple plus-size velour tracksuit, complete with Nike Shox running shoes!  And she was clearly not a runner.  She carried on chatting with her little old lady friend for a few minutes until the service desk clerk came outside of the store to pick up an ad from the wire stand in the vestibule.  The buffalo on the mart-cart asks loudly, "Where did that boy go?  The cart boy?  He was supposed to follow me out to my car to get this cart for me".   The service desk clerk replies, "He went out in the parking lot with another customer to get a cart for her," as she gestured over to me (I was still standing at the opposite door).  Track-Suit shouts over at me, "Honey, I didn't know you needed a buggy!!!"   At this point, my blood is boiling, and everything in my existence wanted to go hopping over on my crutches, thump her upside the head and go, "HEY!  If you had ever considered using that f-@#$%  track-suit for it's intended purpose, you wouldn't have needed the damn buggy in the first place!!!"   But, being the cordial and delightful creature I am known to be, I instead responded with a simple nod and wave at her (and an F-you under my breath).  Always be a lady, right?

Getting There is Half The Battle

Today I decided to venture out of the house on my own.  I went to Sam's Club, where I discovered that many of the aisles are not wheelchair-friendly, with products stashed at 6 feet plus off the ground.  Fortunately I was able to stand on my one good leg and reach for items that I needed that were on the top shelf...  This was an exercise in frustration and humility for sure.  To say that I *dislike* the Mart-Cart (or similar devices) is an understatement.  I hate using them, I hate the looks I get from other users (particularly the over-sized and lazy variety) and I really hate the "poor you" glances that I get from folks who are able-bodied and trotting around the store under their own power.  I sometimes wonder if these people understand that my condition is temporary... After all, I have a boot and crutches; not a cane and a prosthetic leg.  I would gladly walk around the store if I could... but for now I just can't.  It's infinitely frustrating to me because I am normally an active and avid walker.  I try to get 1-2 miles in daily, in addition to the walking around my office (cafeteria, bathroom, etc...).  I would suspect that if I wore an accurate pedometer that I would probably be logging closer to 3 miles daily.  Just 5 days before my foot surgery, I completed a 10k walking race, so to be bound by the constraints of a cam boot and crutches is very annoying right now.

My rant this evening stems from my frustration with the continued lack of mobility that I am experiencing... I am just getting really tired of being home-bound, but I also get tired (exhausted!) when I try to do too much when I go out.  I also am hesitant to try to drive on the highway since I'm still taking pain medications... I figure that if I stick to the side-roads, I won't be as at-risk of running into other wacky drivers since I'll be going a little slower...  may be fuzzy logic, but whatever.  I read somewhere that walking with crutches takes (on average) 30% more energy than bipedal (feet only) walking.  At first I pooh-poohed the idea, but the more I think about it, I realize that this is probably true, and it may be even more than 30% with the way that I truck along on the crutches!  I don't subscribe to the standard crutch-walking "rules" of not allowing your feet to swing ahead of the crutches when moving forward...  instead I place the crutches about 2 feet ahead, then swing my good foot 2 feet ahead of those, nearly matching my normal walking stride.  If I'm on a level surface and I'm not already exhausted, I can whip around on the crutches pretty damn efficiently!  It's just that a lot of the time, I'm already wiped out.  I haven't been sleeping well due to leg cramps; I am taking Vicodin (for pain); calcium and Vitamin D supplements (may help with cramping); eating bananas (for potassium) and trying to drink as much water as possible to keep my muscles hydrated... and despite my best efforts I am still getting the little gremlin-bite feelings in the back of my leg. Not quite a full-blown charley-horse, but more like a pinching sensation that I try to quash as quickly as possible to prevent the full-on cramping...  since my ankle is supposed to be non-bending, and my leg is still non-weight-bearing, I don't want to try to stand up to alleviate a cramp, nor do I want to have the cramp occur and force my foot to extend. 

That's all for this evening.  Just had to remember what it is that frustrated me today when I tried to shop on my own...

Post-Op

I'm a little over 1 week post op right now, and had a bit of a meltdown this evening over some grapes.  I'll take it from the beginning so it's easier to explain...

I am a fiercely independent person.  I don't like being "kept", I don't like being "cared for", I like to take care of myself.  I am used to doing my own thing most of the time, and usually the most help that I need on any given day is to make sure that I wake up on time (I'm an alarm-ignorer by nature).  Six years ago, I had Achilles tendon repair surgery in the dead of winter, and despite all of the challenges that go along with crutches on ice, I managed to get through that period without too much stress.  I was working for my parents in their insurance office, so it was easier to manage my time off work because I could pretty much come and go as I pleased.  The house we lived in at the time was a ranch, with a nice-sized full bathroom on the main floor, and hardwood and/or linoleum floors everywhere except for the living room.  Maneuvering around that house was a breeze because I just zipped around in a rolling task chair, bouncing off doorways and walls and doing everything pretty much the same as usual, just on wheels.

Our house now is a two-story with only a 1/2 bath on the main level.  We have hardwood floors in the kitchen, hall, 1/2 bath, and dining room, although there's a threshold bump that separates the kitchen and dining room.  The office and living room both have frieze-style (fluffy) carpet that doesn't lend itself to rolling around much.  I still have my trusty task chair, and have been utilizing it quite a bit over the past week or so.  I've had one shower since the surgery, and have otherwise been taking sponge-baths at the bathroom sink, and washing my hair in the kitchen sink.  I am usually the type of person who likes to shower every morning, so I am getting quite annoyed with this whole experience.  Thursday evening, I finally managed to get up the stairs and get a shower, and I was thrilled!!!  I was also absolutely exhausted afterward, so I have resigned myself to sink baths until I'm a little more mobile.

Today my sister stopped by and picked me and Tyler up to go to lunch at our new favorite place, Puerto Vallarta.  We had a lovely lunch, my nieces were being ornery and adorable as usual, and we returned home without much incident.  I've been having a lot more soreness in my foot over the past few days, and I think that it's going to get worse before it gets better since the bruising is still settling in.   Anyway,  we got home, I took more pain medication, I watched a few episodes of The X-Files (my new fix) and dozed for quite a while.  I woke around 8:30 and wanted something to snack on - something light since we had a big lunch.  I settled on the idea of some fruit, and some string cheese.   I got an apple out of the fridge, and then reached for the grapes.  This is where the fun began... while dragging the grapes out of the fridge I knocked over a container of hummus, and the container cracked when it hit the floor, splattering across in front of the fridge.  Tyler was downstairs watching TV, heard me cussing and rolling around to get paper towels and Windex, and he came up to investigate.  He asked if he could help, and I just sort of lost it...  I remember telling him that "I need to figure out how to do this myself"... then I downshifted my woes into "I'm tired of not being able to take a shower because I smell like fajitas and I can't get upstairs"...   It was just not a fun evening.  All I wanted was to wash off the grapes and apple, and return to my semi-vegetative state on the couch in the living room.  Tyler tried to help, but again I protested because I wanted to do it myself... but then I realized again that I have no means of transporting the food from the kitchen to the sofa if it's on a plate.   I broke down again and sobbed for a few minutes...   it's just not pleasant right now.  I am really looking forward to getting my cam boot, even if that means the start of physical therapy, which will be a LOT of pain and swelling, not to mention the start of the end of my recovery period, and the beginning of my journey to get back to work.   Right now I am not mentally well enough to work - between the pain medications (bouncing between oxycodone and a tramadol-based drug), and also my crumbling independence, I wouldn't be able to talk to a customer if I tried.  I think that my dealings would go something like, "You think you have it bad???  I have a splint up to my knee, I'm on pain meds, and I have to schedule my trips to the bathroom because the crutches are exhausing!  I don't care about your flippin' flooded basement!!!!"

And The Verdict Is...

Today I went for my first post-op visit with my doctor - dressing change, checked the incisions, and we discussed what he found in my foot.  He gave me 13 photos of the inside of my ankle joint and explained that I had a significant amount of scar tissue within the joint that was "chronic", plus some acute injuries that showed that there was active scar tissue trying to form within the joint.  I have two major incisions along the lateral surface of my ankle - one just behind the ankle bone and about an inch higher; and one crescent shaped incision about 2.5 inches long that is in the "crease" just below my ankle bone.  (photo link attached for those not faint-of-heart...)

photo link...

There's also a little port incision (2-stitch number) that is on the inside of my ankle - this is from the arthroscope camera.  While making the incision in my foot, my doctor discovered that there was a nerve that was out of its normal anatomical position.  The Lateral Plantar Nerve branch is usually located towards the medial top surface of the foot.  Mine just happened to have migrated south a bit, and was in the way of the surgical repairs.  The doctor "lifted" the skin on the top of my foot and tucked the nerve back into place properly; this has caused numbness in the top of my foot plus in my fourth and fifth toes.  The doctor indicated that the nerve will "re-set" itself; this happens at a rate of about 1.0 mm per day; with my foot being a size 11 (God bless the White Family!), my foot measures in at 27.1 centimeters; so the anticipated re-growth rate for the injured nerve is 271 days, or just about 9 months.  Fantastic!

My day started with loads of fun...  my favorite medical management nurse called this morning.  She asks how I'm doing (lot of pain), how I'm getting around the house (crutches, and a task chair because our halls are too narrow for a wheelchair); how the pain meds are affecting me (hard to concentrate); how my appetite is (OK but definitely less than normal), and then comes the most important question of all - "How are your bowels?". Uh, really?  Is this necessary?   I don't even talk about this stuff with my husband unless it's absolutely critical. So then I realize why she's asking...  codeine-based medications have a tendency to make the plumbing get a little backed-up...  so I politely dodge the question by telling her that my doctor warned me ahead of time so I bought some Miralax and have been taking it as a preventative measure.  She seems pleased, and tells me that she'll be checking in again in about 2-3 weeks to see how I'm getting along.
I wonder how hard it is to get a phone number changed...  :-)

Surgery Day Cometh

So surgery day eve has arrived with little fanfare.  I worked up today at 4:30, and two of my co-workers were awesome and helped me to cover the "late" shift in our office so I wouldn't have to fret around until 7:00 at work since I have to be at the surgery center so early in the morning (5:30!!).  As we were leaving the office this evening, we heard a rather unpleasant sound...  Tornado Warning!!!!   The warning was for Licking County, so we figured we were in the clear...  uh, not quite.  Apparently the warning was actually for western Licking, eastern Franklin, and northwestern Fairfield - exactly where we were headed!!   We got home without incident, but it definitely set me on edge for the rest of the night.  Six tornadoes ended up hitting southern and southeastern Ohio tonight, and a lot of good people lost all of their belongings.  An ominous end to a day filled with last-day-at-work stress, fretting about making sure everything was "just so", etc...   I fixed myself a light dinner and tried to get as much ready as possible for tomorrow morning.  I am up late twiddling around the house though... trying to get everything cleaned up, set up.
I am still not sure what kind of surgery I am going to have... literally my doctor has told me that I won't know until I wake up.  If I have a splint up to my knee, it's the "full" surgery - a lateral ankle stabilization using an autograft (tissue harvested from my own body) of the peroneus brevis tendon.  If I have a walking boot, it's because he was only able to "scope" the ankle joint and needed to repair the cartilage with the microfracture procedure.  Not only is this nerve-wracking to not know exactly what's going on with my own body, it's also a LOT of fun to explain to the wicked witch at work - better known as the medical management nurse in our office.  She's supposedly "in charge" of managing FMLA-protected absences, and she takes great delight in keeping a close eye on her flock of injured and ill associates.  Her phone calls are legendary... she calls women on maternity leave after just a few weeks to see how soon they'll be retuning to work (6-8 weeks is the standard!!).   I am not looking forward to talking with her, mostly because I know she'll ask me why it is that I can't return to work on crutches.  It's not just the crutches though... its the ice machine (cryotherapy unit), the pain medication, the elevation needed to prevent swelling, the physical therapy that will be gruelingly painful on an atrophied leg, etc...  there's a lot more to it than meets the eye.

I don't think I'm sleeping much tonight, and it's not just because of the 5:30 arrival time at the surgery center.

Surgery???

I have chronic instability problems with my feet, but over the years I have essentially conditioned myself to cope with these.   And by coping, I mean that I have determined that my life is not meant to include high heels or major athletic endeavors.   And so here I am, walking at work one afternoon last week.  I'm wearing Clarks sandals (comfy, modest, old-lady-esque and slightly orthopaedic).  I turn a corner and am heading into the office after a nearly mile-long walk...  and I step on the edge of the sidewalk.  I was walking behind some folks and had to make way for another group passing the other direction; as a result I stepped with the arch of my foot on the outside of the sidewalk; causing it to roll inward in an "eversion" type injury.  These often can cause high ankle sprains, and are the injuries that you see on SportsCenter and go "OH MY GOD" when you see it happen because it looks so grotesque when it happens.   I regained my footing quickly, even though it hurt like hell.... I got into the office and propped it up the best I could, but I knew it was hurt pretty badly.  Later that evening I managed to make the EXACT same move when walking inside after I got some food off the barbecue.  I knew that I had to get it checked out, just to make sure there was nothing broken, but I was a little gun-shy...  Whenever I've broken bones, I've not bruised or swollen, so it's always a challenge to explain this to an ER/Urgent care doc who is thinking "textbook" and not realizing that there's some people who don't have outward signs of injuries!  Needless to say, I ditched the shoes (naturally, they were the problem, right????).  My sister wears the same size shoes as me, so over the years she's been the lucky recipient of lovely, comfy, and (sometimes) expensive shoes that I have deemed as "unstable" to walk in.  Lucky girl!

Anyhoo, after himming and hawing around for a few days, I decided that I was time to get it checked out to make sure everything was good.  I made an appointment with my favorite podiatrist and finally went in this afternoon. There was a lot of weakness in my ankle joint; also a very positive "Anterior drawer test" which indicated that the anterior talofibular ligament had been damaged.  Here's a diagram to show what they do:

Just for reference... the drawer test is supposed to be negative - meaning that there's NO movement in the ankle joint when pulling upward on the heel with the leg fully extended in front of you in a sitting position. My lovely damaged ankle moved better than 1/2 inch.  Eww.

The only question was how long it had been since it was damaged... was it the recent eversion injury, or could this stem all the way back to high school?   My doctor said that there are 3 options available:

1) ignore the injury completely and manage with anti-inflammatories only.  This would result in deterioration of the ankle joint over time and would eventually lead to a complete ankle replacement.  His exact words to me were, "I don't do ankle replacements.  Build me a better mousetrap and we'll talk, but the junk parts they have on today's market aren't worth using. I'd rather fuse an ankle than replace it."

Eh, No.

2) wear a brace (Swede-O or similar) for the rest of my days.  NOT an option because those don't fit in most shoes, and I don't wear boots for work!  He said that if I was an 80 year old woman that he'd consider this... but since I'm not (and not to mention that I'm a non-compliant brace-wearer by nature), this definitely won't work.

No way, Jose...

3) the best available option is to repair the talofibular ligament with tendon grafting surgery, and potentially also re-create some cartilage using a procedure called "microfracture surgery".

Oh boy...

RANT #1

I was at my favorite place on earth, Wal-Mart, yesterday. I neglected to look at my calendar before choosing this merry destination, alas I would have noted that it was the first Saturday of the month, AKA Government Assistance Shopping Bonanza Day.

I had spent 12 + hours on the road on Friday on my way home from Hilton Head, so I wasn't exactly in tip-top social shape after enduring leg cramps (due to walking in new sandals and climbing untold numbers of steps in lighthouses and around Savannah GA), a stop at a Chinese Buffet somewhere in South Carolina, a detour off the highway into some hick town in North Carolina (wanted some coffee and saw a Dunkin' sign by the freeway - they neglected to show the 4-mile distance), another stop in Charleston, WVa at a weird, old Kroger store to get some snacks for the remainder of the trip, a run-in (run-over?) with some rotten road-kill literally a mile from the house, and FINALLY getting to bed well after midnight.

So, I wasn't in a Wally-World mood, to say the least. I went to lunch with my mom, then we headed over to Wal-Mart. Ugh. I dreaded going in there because I knew that there were some things that I NEEDED to get - after being away from home for a week my fridge was hovering somewhere between Old Mother Hubbard's Cupboard and a science experiment (thank you, rotting blackberries forgotten in the crisper drawer).
I walked past the kid (20-something?) pan-handling out front for some mission trip to Africa; slipped through the greeter station without so much as a "Hiya!", selected my cart, and proceeded to the produce department. To my dismay, I found that the cantaloupe melons were ice cold, which meant that they had likely been frozen and rendered mushy; the apples were hail-marked and bruised, the bananas were florescent green they were so under-ripe, and the trash-heaps were out in full force. And no, I'm not referring to the waste bins for the corn husks - I'm talkin' about the folks with 5 kids, 4 teeth, 2 carts full of junk food and one WIC card to pay for it all, ON MY DIME.
Anyhoo, I'm over by the onions, minding my own business as I steered towards the potatoes, and this hulk of a woman on a Mart-Cart (scooter-ish thing) goes screeching in front of me at top speed (so about 3mph on a Mart-Cart at maximum tonnage capacity). Not only is the basket of the Mart-Cart full of junk food and other assorted crap, but she's also TOWING A SHOPPING CART with her - filled with more garbage!! I stopped dead in my tracks, partly due to my curiosity about the carnival side-show in my path, and partly because I knew that getting my cart knocked over by a water buffalo would not improve my disposition for the day.
Lest I be disappointed with my Wally-World extravaganza so far, Sam Walton's ghost decides to be an a-hole and pull a prank on me - the cart that I had was slightly defective - with a gap in the fender-thing over the wheel of the cart that was *just* big enough for my pinky toe on my left foot. (you know where I'm going with this one...)
My cart comes to a screeching halt due to the Volkswagen-sized behemoth in my way, my foot doesn't *quite* come to a stop as quickly (I don't come equipped with ABS, you know) and so my toe slips into the groove of the cart fender, which slices a nice little chunk out of the flesh, just below my toenail (more accurately: where my toenail was previously situated, since it got BENT IN HALF upon collision). I gasped and dropped an F-bomb (NOT under my breath); the Clydesdale on the scooter in front of me gave me a dirty look, then if I wasn't already drawing enough attention, my cell phone rings at full volume - it's my mom - she's in the bread aisle looking for me. I manage to utter something about "my toe is bleeding, I can't talk right now" and hung up. My mom came over to find me, looked at my toe and pronounced that it "just needs cleaned out really well - don't let it get infected though because it'll never heal".
And so I hobbled around the store with blood slowly oozing from my new wound, limped out to my truck and loaded groceries inside, and got myself home, only to find that there's a little flap of skin just hanging by a thread, and my toenail is bruised and creased/broken. Arrrrgh!! I cleaned/ clipped/ Neosporin-ed and bandaged it, and it still hurts like an MF.


The moral of this whole story?


1) DON'T go to Wal-Mart on the first Saturday of the month unless you have a Direction Card.

2) Always drive through potential road kill - don't bother to swerve in an attempt to miss it because it'll still f-up your day.

Counting The Hours...

I am counting the days/hours/minutes/seconds/milliseconds/nanoseconds until vacation! I have been looking forward to this ever since we put the deposit down on the condo back in January... just reveling in the idea of going to a beach, sitting in the sun and reading books or magazines all day long, and generally being a sloth for a week. No responsibilities, minimal driving, (hopefully) lots of sun and a chance to re-charge my batteries!

Frou-Frou Grocery Stores are apparently not my thing

So after nearly 7 weeks here in fabulous Bloomington-Normal, Illinois, I finally made my way over to the Fresh Market. All of my co-workers have been raving about the sushi, the prepared meats (meatloaf, ribs, chicken), the salads, the bakery, the produce, yada yada yada. I stopped in this evening to see what I could find for dinner since I still have a bit of a hang-up about dining out alone, and I've been pretty lax in sharing my cell # with the folks working in my office... consequently counting myself out of being able to call people on the spur of the moment to ask for a dinner date.
Whatever.
So here I go into the world of Fresh Market... I walk in the door and immediately my senses are assaulted by the noise of carts banging around, the smell of coffee beans (bulk bins up front) and the general incoherent noise of yuppies en masse. I carefully make my way around the store and to the deli counter, where I encounter a less-than-friendly creature named "Beth" at the salad counter. I ask her which potato salad is probably the sweetest (as I don't care for mustardy salad) and she goes, "blue cheese". Oooookaaaaay... well then I'll take a small container of the blue cheese potato salad, and also a small container of the Waldorf chicken salad. She unceremoniously slaps these two containers on the counter, and off I go towards the bakery area. I pick up two croissants, then decide that some cheese would also be yummy, so I head back over to the very large deli area where my BFF Beth again greets me, "Can I get something else for you?". "Uh, yeah, 1/4 pound each of Jarlsberg and Colby cheeses, please." Again my selections are tossed on the counter and off I go.
I stroll through the cracker aisle, and to my dismay I find that only one box of crackers is under $3.29, so I toss these in my cart and head over to the dairy aisle to get some milk, thinking that they might have single-serve containers. Nope. So I pick up a 1/2 gallon jug of milk and head to the registers.
Ugh.
There are two cashiers and about 12 people in line. I get in what appears to be the shorter of the two lines and wait my turn. Another cashier arrives and calls over the customers ahead of me, so they bolt for the newly opened line. As the mini-crowd parts, I soon see the reason for their speedy departure... in front of me is a rather loud and brash woman, watching the register display like a hawk while questioning the poor cashier girl as to why there are no willow baskets available in the floral department even though there are several baskets in the overhead display.
Apparently this basket is a critical part of her grocery-buying experience, because she is relentless, even asking for the store manager to discuss this situation.
So I stand there while her $200+ order is being rung, all the while cursing under my breath that I didn't bolt over to the other checkout lane. Finally the other cashier waves me over to her register, so I pick up my selections and run over to the next counter.
Twenty-one dollars and fifty-five cents later, I walk out of the Fresh Market with 64 ounces of milk, 1/4 pound each of 2 cheeses, 1/2 pound each of blue-cheese potato salad and Waldorf chicken salad, a box of Breton crackers, two croissants, and a bad taste in my mouth that no amount of gourmet frou-frou fussy food will ever be able to eliminate.

Cooking in Hotels

So I'm in FABULOUS Bloomington, Illinois until At least Thanksgiving, and now it's looking like I won't be home until Christmas now due to the scope of the project that I'm working on. As most folks know, I am a foodie and LOVE to cook on a regular basis. Traditional hotel rooms do not lend themselves well to this behavior, so I have been going out for lunch and dinner over the past several weeks, unhappily eating over-salted, over-processed foods in order to nourish my body.

Today I took a trip to Meijer in the hopes that I would have some type of epiphany - perhaps some microwavable food items, frozen dinners... SOMETHING. Lo and behold, I found a tiny little piece of salvation in the form of an electric quesadilla maker, and it was even on sale! I brought my prize back to my hotel room and carefully read the instruction book, learning that not only can I make a quesadilla on this puppy, I can make pancakes, omelets, hamburgers, grilled chicken... the possibilities are virtually endless according to the small appliance whizzes at Oster! :)

I fail to mention that I bought a crock pot late last week and tried a recipe for chicken fajitas. They tasted REALLY good, but my room smelled like a Mexican restaurant after I got them done, so I think the crock-pot will be relegated to potatoes and ham duty - nothing with peppers, onions or garlic, lest all of my sweaters start smelling like burritos. There's only so much that Febreeze can do, you know?

So I broke out the leftover chicken fajitas and some shredded cheddar cheese, plugged in the quesadilla maker, let it pre-heat, built my quesadilla on it, and let it rip! The results were nothing short of fantastic, and I am a (semi) happy chef once again!

Now if only I could get my paws on an induction cooktop hotplate so I can boil water for pasta...

Traffic?!?!?!?!?!

Tyler and I went to Cincinnati yesterday for a Reds game, and we have determined that Ohio is the land of the imaginary traffic jam. You get the geniuses who will ride in the left lane, cruising at 60 mph and blabbering on their cell phones while others zip past them at 80 in the right lane... makes no sense! Then you get large, random groups of folks who caravan along like a bunch of camels in the desert... they ride almost bumper to bumper and usually take up both lanes so that it's impossible to pass them. Typically these groups are comprised of exclusively mini-vans, although occassionally you'll get a Suburban or two in the pack...
This is truly an Ohio-based phenomenon as we have both traveled outside of the state many times over the past few years, and it seems that we don't hit any snags until we get stuck in this phantom gridlock, somewhere along the first few miles of being in the Buckeye State...

Farmer Voit?

The garden is off and running! After a spider mite epidemic and some hot weather, my plants are finally acclimating in the garden quite nicely... I have 6 or 7 tomato varieties, 3 zucchini plants, 5 pepper varieties and a bunch of herbs like cilantro, parsley, basil, etc... lots of fun stuff! It's been a few years since I've had a garden because the clay and rock-filled pit that our old house was built over wasn't too friendly... probably could have suffocated a cactus out there!
I can remember enjoying vegetable gardening ever since I was a little girl... I have a picture of me with my grandma, picking green beans in the garden, that's probably one of my favorite pics ever. I just find it so gratifying to plant something and then be able to create delicious meals with the things that I raised by hand!


Long story short - if you get a jar of homemade salsa or pesto for Christmas this year, don't say that I didn't warn you!

28 Days

OK, so I guess I'm counting days until my vacation... who doesn't??? We're going to D.C. for a few days, then vegging out around the house. Considering finally painting my kitchen and at least one of the spare bedrooms in my house because they're absolutely hideous right now! One has a creepy Noah's Ark themed mural and the other is this horrid shade of burnt orange. What the hell were these people thinking when they painted this house????