They grow up so fast

I (Simon) have not been paying as close attention to the chicks as Jami (I have to take care of all her previous hobby animals) and am alarmed at how large they have got:

They don't think much of me, as you can see.  I don't like their feet (that's a quote from E.T., by the way).  A bit too "Wild Things"

Frederick helps with the cooking

So, I had just made a big pot of red beans Cajun-style that I thought would provide me with sustenance for at least 3 meals, and I pottered upstairs to set up the bathroom for Frederick's evening ablutions and such, when I heard scampering from down below and the unmistakable sound of a saucepan lid clanging.  Now this usually means that Frederick is "checking" on the cooking, but as the pot was so hot I was worried he'd burn himself.  So I went downstairs and found that he was sitting on the sofa looking all innocence.  And when I went in the kitchen, nothing seemed disturbed.  I checked on the food - it looked fine.  Delicious, even:

Then I noticed over by the fridge that the dish of fancy big rock salt was empty, except for smears of what looked like tomatoey sauce and I feared the worst.  And indeed, on tasting the food my mouth turned inside out like Poppleton eating grapefruit, or like a baboon that a Mahalahari man wants to use to find water.  Sigh.  Salads for me.

And then he was gone....again

No known return date established at this time. I expect he'll be back in mid-May, but I know he has plans to see this Grand Ol' US of A, and then to go to England, so we won't see much of The Summer Thomas, either.

Eating Update

I am sure everyone is wondering what I eat these days. About 10 days ago I met with my doctor who was appalled that I was still taking Nexium for stomach pain and nausea when it was designed for a 10 day treatment. (In my defense, when I had the gastro-intestinal scope and was asked what meds I was taking to treat my stomach pain I mentioned that I had been told to take Nexium for two weeks, but that it didn't work. That doctor's suggestion was that I simply double the dosage. Three months later, it still wasn't working so...and there I was in my doctor's office.) Her plan of action was complex: (1) wean myself off Nexium during the next two weeks; (2) stop eating all solid foods; (3) only eat pureed fruit (non-citric) and leafy greens--gluten free, dairy-free, no nightshade plants, no onions/garlic, no hot foods (spicy or temperature-wise), (4) water to drink only--not even a slice of lemon in it. (She said I could sex it up by putting crushed ice in it. Mmmm...nope.) I was to do this for 10 days and then add one new food every three or four days until I found out the culprit(s)--the cause of all my troubles. So, the first day was ok. I went to VGs, bought a LOT of frozen fruit and fresh leafy greens. When I got home I dug out our blender, dusted it off, and found a big box of mason jars in the basement (left over from a short-lived enthusiasm for canning when Thomas was little and fun to be with) and set to work. Mason jars really are good for portioning out meals, carrying meals to work in a container that doesn't leak AND they clean in the dishwasher easy peasy--damn those Baltimore Hipsters for coming up with a genuinely good idea). And Day 1 was a huge success. I felt healthy, cleaned out, and really proud of myself for taking this all so seriously. Day 2 took a spiraling down turn: I woke up with a blinding headache and felt like the bed was on a heaving ship. (Disclaimer: In my zeal of the previous day, I had thrown out all my Nexium ("Won't need THESE anymore!" I said to myself as I tossed the bottle of the evil pills into the kitchen garbage can.) I begged Simon to dig in the garbage can and find those pills. Unfortunately, in another burst of zeal, all garbage had been taken out to the end of the driveway the previous night, and the garbage men had already hauled it away. I was completely unfit to be with Frederick so Simon had to cancel his teaching and bring me tiny portions of water as I lay in bed, alternating between sleeping and thrashing about in agony. [What was the problem? Well, there were many: I now know that Nexium doesn't heal gastritis, it just prevents the body from producing stomach acid--which feels better if you have gastritis, but THAT prevents the body from properly digesting food. And that is ok, apparently, for ten days, but not for four months AS I NOW KNOW. So, I was experiencing full on stomach acid production (probably four months back logged stomach acid, too) PLUS serious malnourishment from getting no major nutrients for the past several months. And going through caffeine withdrawal Big Time. [Mmm. Caffeine, my best friend.] Eventually Simon had 10 minutes to spare and was able to trot to Rite Aid to buy a knock off kind of Nexium (spelled: Nextoleum). I vowed to break the Nexium habit and reduced to half a pill a day coupled with a LARGE dose of antacid pills (all with the approval of my doctor, don't worry!). After about six days I was down to a third of a pill with half an antacid, and now I am on 1/4 a pill every day with no antacid. By day three I was able to eat again, and here are my meals: This is a bottle of water (got enough of those in the house to last several years), a giant scoop of vegan protein powder (shudder) and half a banana. It's like being a baby again! After Day 3 of this I added soft boiled eggs (not to the mix--that would be awful--but as a special side dish) and felt no worse off and a lot better: it's really unpleasant to eat only cold/frozen fruit and vegetables when it is still cold outside. Very depressing. That whole first week was really up and down: I keep having waves of energy followed by waves of nausea and exhaustion. Finally yesterday, Day 10, I started to feel really good. Today I feel great. I am going to add yellow vegetables (sweet potatoes and carrots) Tuesday. I am so, so excited about that. Big pile of mushy orange veg. If that stays down and causes no trouble, there are three classes of items left to test: legumes (I'm looking at you, peanuts), nightshade plants (my favorites: peppers, tomatoes and potatoes--which includes potato flour, a main ingredient in all gluten free break products) and dairy products. Which is the culprit? Or is it all of them? Only time will tell.

Chicks--no longer cute

This was three days ago, when they were exactly two weeks old: Obviously the descendants of dinosaurs.Three days later, earlier today: They are as critical of me as I am of them.

Thomas? Where are you?

Last Saturday night I went to the Flint train station to pick up Thomas. He's on his spring break this week (ours was three weeks ago). Here comes the train:

His first words to me were, "Why are you wearing a red coat? [I wasn't--it was black, a coat I've had for four or five years.] You look weird." Be that as it may, a seed of doubt as to the pleasantness of this visit was planted. Yet, since that time I've hardly seen him. Is he even still in the house? This morning I was determined to find out. Yes, dirty dishes left laying around....

And here a pile of dirty clothes (all mixed in with the clean clothes), most of them purple....So far all signs point to a Thomas In Residence.

Ah ha! A giant well-coiffed beast snoring well past noon! No doubts about it, a Thomas infestation has hit our house.

Thomas is set to go back to Chicago in the early hours of Sunday. In the meanwhile, we are going to submit an application for a new passport. How will they spell his name this time? Thomix Wileam Chuusig? Thamis Wallem Cusshin? As God is my witness, however his name is spelled on that passport, that is how his name is going to be spelled on his airplane tickets to England this summer.

Not so fast, Spring

It's been weird this year.  Chicago had no snow on the ground for all of January and February, which has basically never happened before.  Spring has supposedly officially arrived, three weeks ahead of normal.  But the high winds we just had have apparently ushered in a cold front, because we woke up (an hour too early, thanks Daylight Savings Time) to this:

Upside Down Thingy

as it is now known.

This arrived on my birthday:

Ignoring all stickers such as the following, Simon did a solo team lift, moving this from the front porch into the house, and up the stairs.

And here he is, recovering. This is on the "Beginners" setting, with the least incline (only about 10%). More experienced spine stretchers go full hog and tilt back until they are completely upside down. Martha doesn't see the point.

It does feel really good on my back, unfortunately, it also sends my already hiated stomach even further up my throat, which is unpleasant. If I could pop it back down into its rightful place, I'd be on this thing all the time. [Note to Thomas: Yes, this is in your room right now. No, it won't stay there, so contain the rage.]

Windy

All yesterday the wind raged all over Michigan. Windiest day ever, they said. Amazingly, although hundreds of thousands are still without power, we (who lose power at the drop of a hat) managed to escape. Here's some of the effects around our neighborhood:

 And we ourselves were not unaffected.  A mighty branch fell upon the back yard:

Chick Update

Did I mention in an earlier blog that we got 6 chicks? Well, we got 5. Yeah, that's right. Actually, the Event of Which We Will Not Speak forced me to find out something interesting and slightly disturbing: chicks raised away from their mother hen are prone to get what is (I kid not) called "pasty butt": their excrement/urine combo clots onto their tiny bottoms, blocking the exit and preventing them from excreting--which means their intestines block up and they die a slow and horrible death. Prompted by the Event of Which We Will Not Speak, I self-trained to clean chick bottoms. (The secret is to hold them upside down under a running faucet stream of comfy warm water.) For the past four days I've been checking chick bottoms morning, noon and night and so for only two have needed such cleaning. Amazingly, chicks don't like having their bottoms cleaned by humans. Now when I appear, hovering over their little box, they are whipped into a frenzy of peeping, and tearing about. As I reach in, the peeping increases in pace and when I turn each over, it shrieks an explosive"PEEEEEEEEEEEP!" (No translation needed, I believe.) Today all bottoms were clean as a set of whistles. If they remain clean for the next week, we will be in the clear. Resentful chicks eyeing me suspiciously:

Birthday Bass

Just for the hell of it I started taking bass lessons (electric, not upright/double bass) about three years ago (it'll be three years in May). I bought a used bass and amp at a local pawn shop (no shortage of those in Flint) and my only requirement at the time was that it be for someone right handed. It didn't disappoint. Since that time, though, I've realized that it is fairly limited, primarily because its controls (other than the volume control) are broken. Well, it was good enough to learn how to do scales and such. Starting a few weeks ago Simon started (very subtly) asking what new things I'd like. I told him I didn't want anything (which was true). As January ended and we got into February, the questions became a lot less subtle, "What the hell do you want for your birthday? Tell me, or you get nothing." Given my perpetual anxieties about money (mostly irrational, and largely just habit at this point (still in the mode of stealing toilet paper from public places, which is how I got through grad school, I guess), I gave him nothing to work with. Finally, one day I happened to mention that my bass was holding me back from really breaking into the Big Time. Apparently this was all Simon needed to hear and he was off. And here is what he presented to me on my birthday (actually a few days before, just after we had lunch together on one of the few days we were actually able to be in the same place at the same time, child care free):

Unfortunately, I have pretty strong preferences when it comes to appearance (color, mainly) and so I (rather tactlessly, it would seem) hinted that I might like a different bass. Simon sulked [translation: he threw this at me: Unwrapped: I think he's gotten over it. Apparently I just have to keep this note tucked inside my bass case until he decides I can remove it. Amid the sulks, he gave me permission to exchange it for something I preferred. Here's what I found:

It's used, and was shipped to our local Guitar Center (otherwise known as Dickweeds Central) from Chicago. Before I was allowed to take it away, the hefty manager had to get off his ample arse and waddle over to the counter and decide for himself if I had bought a decent bass. His verdict? A begrudging "Sweet."

Eye floaters

Those who know me (Simon) have probably heard me complain about my "eye floaters."  These are exactly what they sound like - strange stringy things that drift across my field of vision, especially if I'm looking at a clear blue sky (which rather spoils it).  Lately, as my ability to focus at near objects deteriorates in middle age, the floaters seem to have got worse, so there are big blurry spots right in the middle of my field of vision that make reading awkward - I have to flick my eyes from side to side to try to get them to drift away from the center.  I have been pestering my regular optician (or othalmologist or whatever the hell they call themselves) about these for years and finally he found someone who will do the surgery to remove them.  She operates in Jackson, MI, about an hour and a half drive away, and today was the day I went to consult.  Well, long story short, she dilated my pupils hugely, peered inside, and said I should wait a couple of years until my "vitreous fluid" separates from my retina, which happens to us all at about age 50.  She said the only person she'd operated on before this happens was "happy for a few months" and then when it happened he needed operating on again.  So, tears streaming down my cheeks (from the bright light in my huge pupils, not from disappointment, honest!) I drove home.  I have an appointment for next year already booked, though!

 Had to stop off and buy some super-dark glasses on the way.  Stylish!

Catching up

As you can tell, we've fallen off the "one post a day" wagon pretty heavily. But I have been taking photos. Here are some from a walk last weekend at seven lakes - it was quite balmy.

But today, Winter decided it was not quite done with Michigan yet:

Eggs, please

I was in Tractor Supply (a farmer's supply box store, in case the name of it doesn't make that clear) and could hear the sound of hundreds of peeps coming from the center of the store. Like a siren song, it drew me close enough to see all the adorable chicks for sale. Suddenly it seemed very clear to me that we needed to buy some chickens. It took about an hour for Simon to see the sense of it (he does like to eat a lot of eggs). So today I got all the supplies needed (the same stuff ducks need, only smaller). Here they are: Two have been officially pronounced "female" (the larger golden chicks), but the other four are unknown as of this moment. There are three different kinds, two of each. I forget what each is right now, and none have names yet but I'm sure fitting names will emerge as personalities emerge. Sylvester has found a new favorite place to be. It was brutally cold today, so I was a bit alarmed when I had to run them from the store to my car, which had gotten cold while I was inside shopping. They complained bitterly the whole drive home, sounding like someone was pulling their toes off one at a time. Obviously this had exhausted them as when I got them home and plopped them into their new house, they all instantly fell asleep. I thought perhaps they had all dropped dead, but when I poked them their eyes popped wide open and they started up a chorus of complaints. Simon says we have to handle them a lot so they become tamed. Ok, if he insists, I guess we have to.