Things I fancy

"Getting to know you .... getting to know all about you..."  That is a line in a song from "The King and I", a musical about the King of Siam and his British governess/school teacher in which Yul Brenner plays the part of the King.  Yul was always so exotic sounding back then.  (I always got Yul Brenner and the Mr. Clean character mixed up for some reason.)

Anyway, for the sake of getting to know you, or rather, you getting to know me ... or both with this just being me starting the conversation ... the following is a list of things that I fancy.  That's how they say "like" in British.  Also, my birthday is coming up soon and you may need gift ideas.

1.  Might as well start with musicals!  When I was in high school, while everybody else was listening to Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Duran Duran, etc., I was listening to a tape I made that was chuck full of Julie Andrews -- Mary Poppins on one side, and The Sound of Music on the other. One of my favorite movies from a very young age was Sweet Charity ("If they could see me now, that little gang of mine...").  Either that was my favorite, or Disney's The Aristocats ("When you sing your scales and your arpeggios...").  In contrast to those cats, I did not in fact like CATS, the Broadway hit.  (What in the heck is a jellicle cat???)

2.  Giraffes.  I've always wanted to have a favorite animal.  When I was little, I LOVED horses.  I collected horse statues, had an elaborate stable set for them including tackle and fencing.  But that is the hobby of little girls.  I finally came up with a short list of favorite, more sophisticated animals which included sloths and hedgehogs.  (Please note that it can't be weenie dogs because I already have that collection.)  But I had to go with Giraffes.  They are such incredible animals.  They're so prehistoric looking.  They're gentle, and graceful.  They have eyelashes for days.  And they fight by whipping each other with their own heads.  That's pretty bad-ass.

3.  Star Wars.  When the first three Star Wars movies came out beginning in 1977, I thought they were super cool.  I loved the movies but no more than anybody else.  I played with my stepbrothers' and cousin's Star Wars Action Figures (they had the Millennium Falcon) but had none of my own.  When the next three movies came out beginning in 1999, I was excited but -- since they were so different from the first three -- I didn't get into them as much.  However, I've always liked the Star Wars stories -- the coolness of lightsabres alone scores major points.  For some reason, a little over a year ago, I started listening to the Star Wars books on my iPod in my car.  Yes, there are Star Wars books.  the series begins over 5000 years before Luke Skywalker and lasts for 45 years after.  There are hundreds of Star Wars books -- Young Adult novels, graphic novels, and regular novels.  They encompass hundreds of galaxies, thousands of worlds.  The scope of this imagined universe is almost inconceivable.  In the last year, I've listened to 47 books, read one paperback and bought three graphic novels.  I have officially geeked out.

4.  Epic movies.  In addition to Star Wars, I also love other epic movies including but not limited to The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Matrix trilogy, Harry Potter.  I am pretty sure I've seen Fellowship of the Ring at least 100 times.  While I was down with my hip surgery, I think I watched it an average of 3x per week.  I don't know why I don't watch something else -- it's sort of comforting to me, sort of like a teddy bear.

5.  Italy.  I'm not what I'd call a world traveler.  That is, I haven't been all over the world; but I've done my share of traveling.  I've traveled over a good deal of the U.S. both as a teenager and at my last job -- everywhere from Alaska to Florida.  I've been to Australia twice, to Mexico twice and to Germany twice, and to the U.K., France and Belgium once each.  All of these places were a wonderful pleasure to visit and I hope to have the chance to see them again.  But I've traveled to Italy three times now and I cannot get enough.  Italy has its problems like every country (especially our own) does -- issues with an untrustworthy government, unemployment, etc.  But every time I return there, it feels like coming home.  I barely speak the (beautiful) language and I'm sure I stick out like a sore thumb; but it feels like I belong when I'm there.  The people are passionate, confident, brilliant.  The country spans everything from beaches and high coastal cliffs to the Alps to some of the most ancient cities on Earth.  Human history in Italy goes back to the stone ages, and you can almost feel the weight of human experience there.  Oh, and they have really good food and wine!

6.  Old friends.  So, the definition of "old" is fairly flexible here.  I'm a Taurus, which means that I am happiest when I'm on familiar ground, where things are solid and established -- deeply rooted.  I'm a bit of an introvert so I unfortunately don't get out to meet new people very often; and it takes me a while to warm up to people. But I have a handful of friends who I've known long enough to find this comfortable place.  Even when I am by myself, I know that these connections surround me.  I only need to think of them to smile.  Sometimes we may not see each other for a while but when we meet up after one of these sebaticals, nothing seems to have changed and we pick right up where we left off.

Brown paper packages tied up with strings ... these are a few of my favorite things.  Though maybe not in that order.  :)

Tease

Ya know what really torques my chain?

Ya know how when you watch a movie, sometimes there are little outtakes or surprises during or after the credits?  It used to be that when the credits started to roll, you knew the movie was over.  You could choose to wait around and see who the Ms. Jolie's hairstylist was, or you could make for the door because lord knows you've had to pee for the last 20 minutes.

Now all the Trickypants directors add little filming bloopers (and beat Bob Saget to the punch) or ironic footnotes after the credits start to scroll.  Why do they have to do that??

I understand that workers on films want to be acknowledged for their work.  To be honest, I thought that was what the Academy Awards for Technical Achievement was for; but okay, I do get it.  But why do they have to trick us?  Some people LIKE to wait for the credits and actually pay attention.  Some people don't.  I don't think I ever really paid attention to them until after I was 30.  If I watched them, I was probably making fun of peoples' names.

The least they could do is let you know if there's going to be something interesting with/after the credits, so you didn't waste your time if you didn't want to.  Some movies have these little "prizes" and some movies don't. But the way it is now, you either have to stay or take your chances.

What REALLY fries my Twinkie is after I've seen a movie recently and chose to not stay for the credits; THEN I talk to someone about the movie and they say, "Hey, did you see that really weird spot after the credits??"  What am I going to do now, rent a movie just to watch the last 5 seconds?

 Look -- I think they can actually be entertaining.  But why can't they at least let you know that there's something in it for you if you wait around for five more minutes?  That's all I'm sayin'...

Uneven

Oh. My. God.

I just got done with a workout on my elliptical and I'm huffing and puffing like an asthmatic in the Himalayas.  Before my surgery, I was doing these workouts about five times a week to prepare, and I could blast out an hour on the same machine pretty easily.  Now 20 minutes KICKS MY ASS.  I'm actually shaking!

My physical therapy assignments now require that I get back on the elliptical 4-5 times a week, which I'm actually pretty excited about.  The reason I'm so excited that I can work out again is because I'm getting to be a little ... uneven.

Yesterday during my physical therapy session, my P.T. strapped a weight around the ankle of my new hip leg and had me walk back and forth down a hallway with a mirror at the end.  In shorts.  In the winter when I'm white as a sheet.  During a time in which I can't shave my legs.  Are you getting the picture?

Anyway, as I was walking toward my reflection in the mirror, I noticed that my new side is a bit ... well, let's say that my old side looks like it's been doing the P90X workout and the other side has been watching the other work out while it eats a pizza.  My knee is so pudgy it looks like it has a face with little cheeks and a chin.

So yeah, I'm gonna work out now.   Heh.

My healing is going well.  Monday will mark my sixth week -- YAY!!!  Within two weeks I should be done with my precautions (no bending beyond 90 degrees at the hip, no crossing legs, no twisting) which would make me one HAPPY camper.  I still feel a little stiff and walk with a little bit of a limp, but that's what physical therapy is for.

My incision looks really good.  Honestly, I couldn't be more impressed with my doc's skillz.  They used glue rather than staples or suitures, so there's almost no puckering or weirdness.  Right now it's just a pink line.

Well, time to start a busy day.  My nephew, Wyatt, is coming to visit so Auntie needs to clean up and not look like a boozer with the shakes.  :)

Conspiracy Theory

I think my pets are planning to take me down.  The four of them are home all day with plenty of time to think things out.

I'm not entirely sure why they might do this -- there are probably a few reasons.  For example, Cielo may be mad that I had her bark removed (and I don't blame her).  Daisy may be mad that she doesn't get enough lap time.  Emmy the cat may still hold a grudge against me because I have introduced three dogs into the house.  Adylson may not have a problem but I doubt she'd stand up to the others.  She's just that way.

I'm pretty sure they're like the A-Team of household pets.  They each have special forces type talents and training that the could use to off me given the appropriate circumstances.  Here's how they could do it (and may have already tried):

Emmy the Cat:  Emmy might as well be a monkey.  Her breaking and entering skills provide proof that you don't need thumbs to open any door.  One of her schemes is to open all of the armoir doors in my bedroom so that when I get up in the middle of the night to "do my business", I'll run into them.  To make it even better, she hides in the shelves so that she can pounce on me when I'm down.

Emmy is also a natural weaver (like this).  But she doesn't do it like she's doing it on purpose, and she doesn't do it after you've put your front foot down.  She places herself directly in the place you want to put your foot and then slows down like "oh, you wanted to walk here?" and then moves into position to the next step and repeats.  I end up staggering around the house like Frankenstein.

Daisy, the Geriatric One:  Daisy's talent lies in her obsessive compulsive disorder.  She licks the kitchen floor for hours until there's a giant spit slick.  This invisible slime is slipperier than Vaseline and twice as difficult to clean.  I've nearly landed on my @ss several times as a result of her efforts.

Cielo the Odd:  The puppy is a little more obvious.  She simply takes a running start across the bed and jumps with all fours onto my stomach.  I'm pretty sure my liver has ruptured.  The best part is that, while I'm laying there in pain, she stands on my chest and looks at me cross-eyed from about 3 inches away.  She could be trying to hypnotize me, too.

Adylson the Piddler:  The worst Adylson could do is a variation of Daisy's scheme and that is to wee a random stream of urine across my path to make me slip.  Again, it's happened more than once, but mostly it happens when we have visitors.

If I end up with a dislocated hip in the next month or so, I'm blaming it on the Pet-Team.

Support Hose

Nothing makes a girl feel sexy like support hose.

I started working at the office again this week!  Yep, trying to get back into the regular flow of my life.  My first step was to get wheels so that I could be a little bit mobile.

Plan A was for me to swap cars with my friends.  They have a BMW SUV that is not too low (so I don't have to roll in and out of the car) and not too high (so I don't need a ladder) and has an automatic transmission.  My FJ Cruiser is a stick and my clutch leg is on the fritz.

Sunday morning I went out to the car to collect the garbage and make it relatively presentable.  I pressed the unlock button on the remote and ... nothing.  I unlocked the door with the key and no interior light came on.  I put the key in the ignition and turned the key ... silence.  CRAP.  So I called for roadside assistance and Speedy Towing sent a fella with very bad teeth (that looked like flax seeds in yogurt) and jumper cables.  He tried to start the car and still nothing, so I had to have it towed to the service station.

So I had to turn to Plan B, which was to rent a car for the week.  I am now the relatively proud driver of a RAV4.  I feel like I'm 37 again!

Work has not been terribly bad.  It's not as easy as I thought it would be.  I greatly underestimated the value of my recliner, for example.  My leg didn't much care for sitting in a chair all day.  It starts to feel like a stuffed sausage after a while.  I even went back to wearing those compression socks I got at the hospital so my calves wouldn't get so inflated.

I also get really tired so that when I get home I can barely keep my eyes open.  Finally, I seem to get more sore as each day goes -- today (Wednesday) I finally took the afternoon to go home, elevate the unhappy leg and get some rest.

Happily, I'm on very few pain meds anymore.  Well, I have to be off in order to drive.  I only take two when I get home now and that seems to be enough.  Look for my Craigslist ad for a sale on pain meds!