Test Transmission

Found this DRAFT post from Jul 5, 2015 (yes really) which seems handy to use as a test message to check if my auto-email delivery feature still works (you know who you are). If you receive it, please reply to my gmail account. For all I know, I don't even have your correct e-mail addresses any longer!

Real life is currently like a freakish trip to Man In The High Castle territory, so let us move onto a more cheerful topic. Namely, Amelia! (BTW, that previous link to a UK newspaper's Dec. 16, 2016 article has spoilers for S2).

Amelia is a fluffy, affectionate, "medium-haired" cat, (now) approximately 4-1/2 years old, according to Animal Care Centers of NYC (rebranded from Animal Care & Control of NYC, i.e., the pound). She was surrendered by her former family when they moved to a no-pets building (those a**hats), along with her non-littermate sister Temperance. (Temperance was put to sleep the day after I adopted Amelia, unfortunately.) Now that we have moved back home from Mom's apartment (CeCeCat's home territory) both girls are getting along well, to my VAST relief.

Here are photos taken of Miss Fluffykins (a\k\a Fuzzy Mittens) in my home, shortly after her adoption on June 20, 2015.

And yes, at some point, we'll have a post devoted to CeCe's life history, all 2-1/2 years of it, including how she got her name.

Love & purrs, 

your local crazy cat lady

February Funk

So I started off February all revved up about posting often. As you can see by the dates between today's blather and the previous one, that didn't work out so well.

The red eyes are on my REALLY bad days

Instead, I spent most of the month like this.

It didn't help that most of February was a constant blur of frigid temperatures, snow, sleet, wintry mix, and fossilized snow. For pete's sake, The Weather Channel is up to Winter Storm Thor. THOR! It seemed like a nasty storm would blow in like clockwork every Sunday, triggering an emergency alert from the office every Monday. BLEH. (And that's NOT my imagination: tonight's weather report said that happened 7 out of the past 9 weekends.)

The first half of February was a blur of clearing the decks so that I could go in for my outpatient bilateral laparoscopic salpingo-oophorectomy on Valentine's Day (oh the irony). That's the formal medical name, since I certainly didn't need the highways to nowhere (i.e., my tubes), once my ovaries were gone.

My anesthesiologist at Sloan-Kettering was hilarious though. Upon meeting me in the pre-op waiting area, he (a) enlightened us as to the difference between general anesthesia and twilight sedation, [In general anesthesia, the machines are breathing for me. Luckily, I was unconscious before they put the respiratory tube down my throat. Yuck.] and (b) gave me a pop quiz:

Dr. A: [casually] So what'd you eat for breakfast?

Me: [promptly] NO!

Dr. A: Right answer! You get to go ahead with your procedure.

My awesome friend Marci accompanied me for the day, and made sure I made it home okay. She also kindly unearthed my bed, hidden under several sacks of clean -- yes, clean -- laundry.  (Sidenote: general anesthesia totally SUCKS! Found out that I am one of those folks who will totally barf if not given an anti-emetic. Plus, days of post-op lethargy. "Oh, I've been awake for all of 3 hours? Time to pass out again." [THUD...Zzzzz...])

So all that took more out of me than I expected.  But although I had President's Day off, and took the rest of the week off as well, my sister left for Florida that Wednesday, and so my brother-in-law dropped mom back off at her place.  I felt like a total rebel for not returning till Thursday night, whereupon I found out she had a terrible cold. That led to a fun few weeks.

Mmmm... crispy Peking duck burrito

I. Am. So. Tired.

SO tired.

It makes me super-cranky when at work (which mercifully, is NOT in the office, except once a week).

Luckily, I had planned some fun events for later in the month, like a belated Chinese New York banquet with my friends (Peking duck makes EVERYTHING better!)

[This is making me hungry...brief pause for dinner, a la realtime blogging like Pinky Guererro.]

Oops...that was an extremely long break, since I took time out to eat, watch THE WALKING DEAD (best not to combine the 2 activities), and then BATTLE CREEK (what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for Dean Winters, a\k\a The Mayhem Guy in the hilarious Allstate ads -- FYI: there are apparently 4-6 ads deemed too violent to air on TV. Dayum! SO wanna see those !)

Our view in Town Hall

Speaking of funny, I also went to see Craig Ferguson's standup show with as part of his Hot & Grumpy Tour, with my pals Jackie Blue and Marci. I needed a night of pure relaxation, where we were laughing until I was literally wiping tears from my eyes. He reminded me of Eddie Izzard in style, so we were all happy campers. And his opening act was Josh Robert Thompson, the voice of Geoff The Gay Robot from Craigy Ferg's LATE, LATE SHOW. (JRT does an absolutely uncanny impersonation of Morgan Freeman which had the audience in stitches, BTW.)


And along other disorienting thoughts -- besides a 40 year old white guy sounding like a 77 year old black man -- is the idea that my cat and I share a common trait: we've both been fixed.

Just because I decided years ago that I didn't want (human) children, doesn't mean it doesn't still leave me slightly bemused of being biologically incapable of having offspring. Also causing a "WHOA!" moment is the thought that if I ever have sex again (HA!) I will no longer need birth control. (Fear not: that doesn't mean no safe sex. I came of age during the discovery of AIDS, after all. But since the goal of all of this surgery is to leave me with no estrogen, I have ZERO libido.)  And I'm still wrapping my head around the concept of no more periods EVER. Never ever ever. HALLELUJAH! Once that fully sinks in, I will be doing my Snoopy impression.

Soooooo YES! (And I know I'm going to grammar hell for all of my double negatives.)

So yeah, I have a lot of major life changes going on that have yet to fully sink in.

And I have no idea of how I'm going to get out from under my current routine which leaves me a Super Cranky Squirrel, as most of my vacation days have been spoken for between a trip in July, and all of the medical appointments for Mom and myself. (Did I mention my sister is in Florida for the month?) The eldercare lawyer is going to put in a Medicaid application for Mom, in order for the potential to get some home care help, but that'll be months in the making.

(Related aside: I freaking HATE dealing with HSBC. They are the most unhelpful bank EVER. And I'm supposed to be a freaking Premier customer. Asshats. Despise them with a tired, dimly burning passion -- if I had more energy, it'd be the fire of a thousand suns, but as things stand, well...)

But I digress.

Have started seeing my therapist again this year (affectionately referred to as my Pearl of Wisdom), and she's helped me recognize that part of the reason I may be so exhausted -- besides the obvious one of having 2 full time jobs -- is that somewhere deep inside I am angry, and repressing all of that anger is very tiring exercise. Looking after my Mom is a labor of love, and I don't resent doing it, but I do feel like I'm paddling in the middle of the ocean with one oar.

I. Am. So. Tired.

TripleC is exhausted just thinking of everything I have to do.

Marvin The Martian

My Sis and bro-in-law's backyard faces protected wetlands (win!)
Extra points if you spot the 2/F birdhouse they installed

Sooooo...my sister is a butthead.*  (I revert to immature language when confronted with immaturity, apparently.) It's taken me quite a while to wrap my head around the idea that she really doesn't seem to care that she's systematically pissed off her entire family, to the point that we've each individually yelled at her.

Considering that we are the stereotypical "aim for consensus and harmony at all costs" Asian-American family, that takes sustained effort. But hey, my sister is always willing to apply elbow grease when and where it suits her.

Let's review everyone she's hurt, upset, and infuriated this past year, shall we?

Her three children and their spouses? Check! Check! And check!

Her only sibling? Yup.

Her late husband's sister? (He, like me, only had one sibling.) Ding! Ding! Ding!

Her only living parent? You betcha!

(In fact, my mom made the ultimate slam this week when she said,"Your sister is just like her father." [Technically, we're half-sisters on my mom's side, but we were raised together, more or less.] Considering my mom still hates her first husband with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, even 60 years later...Ouch!)

Since we are a very small family, Sis is literally batting 1.000.

Do I sound bitter? That's because I am bitter. Like a pot of coffee left on the burner too long.

I can't think too much about this at the moment, or my blood pressure will rise and I won't be able to get to sleep. Instead I'll just try to remember what my nephew calmly said,"She's made her decision and her priority is very clear."

Bah.

I'll just stick to playing with the babies in my family, and visiting my late brother-in-law's grave when I can (with other relatives).

Note the toy cars from his grandsons. - I miss you, big brother.

And in other news, I have not heard back from my oncologist about the MRI of my giant skull, so I guess no news is good news, since doctors are usually really prompt about bad news.

Now I need to go to sleep, since it's long past my bedtime, and I'll be on a new floor at work tomorrow, with the grand poobahs.

P.S. *It was unintentionally hilarious trying to explain the term "butthead" to my very correct, older German relatives.  "So do you remember the show 'Beavis and Butthead'? No? Oh well...let's see now..."

Vacation map (almost)

Happily, my friends in Kyoto and all of their relatives are fine. The rest of the country, not so much...

Source: http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/dyfi/events/us/c0001xgp/us/index.html

So just imagine, um, squinting and looking at this map with my itinerary overlaid: HK, Shanghai, Tokyo, Kyoto, maybe Guilin...

Okay, time to leave the office now. Yes, NOW. (Have I mentioned how much my job is aggravating me these days?)



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Weekend(s) in New England

So okay, I've always had a hidden fondness for this old Barry Manilow song, and since I've visited Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine, and Connecticut during the past 3 weekends, I figure I'm entitled to use it as my lead in. Heh.

The photo above, and at the end of this post are from Boston, during Halloween weekend, when I visited my friend Tamara. The photo right below is from my sister's front yard, where both she and I love the vivid red of her Japanese maple trees in the fall.

Despite the depressing round of layoffs last week (and the suspicion that there may be more in a few months), on the bright side, 1) I'm still employed, 2) with health coverage that sends me to MSKCC, 3) where my antigen tests all came back negative at the end of October. (Time for the quarterly happy dance!) Next check up is in March, and if I do well then, I'll graduate to semi-annual checkups! Woohoo!

By the way, dunno if I mentioned this before, but there is a certain habit doctors have which is understandable in terms of WHY they do it, but still makes you want to put your head on the table. I refer of course, to the classic exchange of "Does this hurt?" [poke, poke, poke] "YES! OW!!!!"

So the oncologist was examining me during my checkup at the end of October, and feeling for any new lumps (none, thank goodness) on both sides of my torso. This was when we both discovered that my left side is still extremely sensitive, and hurts when jostled, poked, or otherwise insulted, even though the surgery was almost 2 years ago (January 2009).

Her: "I see that this side is still tender." [poke, poke, poke]
Me: "Yes! Ow! OW!! OW!!!"
Her: "Yes, that's normal."
Me: [whimper]

Now don't get me wrong -- I like my onco-doc, and she needed to do that, but still: EEK!!! Ya know?

Yesterday's check up was with the surgeon, who was very pleased with my healing. Despite some slight keloidal scarring (what can ya do? the joys of an olive complexion; plus in the scheme of things, I don't really care, considering the alternatives) he pronounced himself very pleased with my progress, "A good result!" and said my next checkup with him would be in a year. Hurrah!

And I was amazed and warmed by the number of friends who posted happy comments on Facebook when I reported my avuncular, bow-tied surgeon's progress report. Wow.

I also cracked up said surgeon with my comments that it (the surgical scar) almost looks like a coin pocket, and about the poke-poke-poke issue. "Yes, doctors can be a pain, can't they?" (See? I told you I liked my surgeon.) Hey, did he make a joke?! I mean, he WAS smiling when he said that. Hmmm...

Speaking of health matters, I've been struggling with my weight lately but I signed up for the new WW session at work. Right now I seem to be going through a lot of stress / angry eating (which is extremely frustrating, since it has NOTHING to do with actual hunger -- it's never about the food: it's always about The Issues Underneath) but eventually I'll get my noshing under control (I think...). In the meantime, at least I'm gnawing on less bad-for-me food than I used to (e.g., roast chicken and roasted squash vs. fish & chips, or Kame rice crackers vs. potato chips) and eating better breakfasts (what is this croissant thing you speak of? I have not had one for years).

Okay, time to haul myself off to work. Ciao, y'all!

Mixed signals

So we had more layoffs today. It was very depressing. My department is fine, but our division had 5 people let go, 4 of whom sat near me.

So I suppose that when our Chief Administrative Officer jokes with me about having Security escort me out in the evenings (because I frequently work late -- though I have yet to meet the cleaning staff at least), this is not a bad thing.

And our Managing Director had a fun, fun day telling each department that reported to him the cheery news in closed door meetings, so I admire him for that.

We got several bounceback messages from people throughout the company this afternoon, so clearly today was a busy day for HR.

Ugh.

Have I mentioned that Open Enrollment for next year's health care benefits starts tomorrow? Repeat after me: continued employment = continued health insurance coverage, so buried somewhere under my moroseness, there is thankfulness. Honest.

Right now though, I am going to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.

The Bee Gees

Just a howdy to say that I'm still alive (be grateful I don't post a link to a Stayin' Alive video here to emphasize the point). Lots going on (and yes, my quarterly checkup at MSKCC was fine -- yay, team) but I just don't feel very communicative lately. I think I need to go vent in my journal or something.

Well, the only decent thing about Daylight Savings Time (blech -- now it gets dark after 4ish in the afternoon) was that I at least got to catch up on some sleep: 20 hours this weekend, so I either had some severe sleep deficits going, or I'm a little depressed, or both.

Speaking of sleep, I'm going to bed (yes, at a shockingly decent hour) since I am on a perpetual quest these days to get to the office at a decent time, since I now sit in the fishbowl near a managing director.

Signed,
Your cranky friend in New Yawk City
where the leaves are finally starting to turn

Institutional ecosystems

You know how I have the acronym RTBT for Reasons To Be Thankful? (And there are always many RTBT.) Well it occurs to me that every now and then (or lately, more often than that) I have gotten supremely cranky, and who better to be the archetype of crankiness than my beloved Marvin The Martian? (BTW, all crankfest posting will henceforth be tagged with MTM.)

I was so fond of his antisocial tendencies that one of my exes once bought me a MTM pillow which I still have. And considering my mom, I come by my crankiness the old-fashioned way: both nature AND nurture!

The current upheaval at work is just stoking the crank-o-meter with premium unleaded: we are moving offices to a building a few blocks away on Friday and boy oh boy has the process been fun (you know, like a root canal). Welcome to our entry area this morning, once they started dissambling the bookshelves (and check out the toolboxfilled with noisy power tools, heh):

We are moving to a place where we do not know how many cabinets or drawers each person will have (we have been wheedling the nice guy from the moving company to tell us how big each filing cabinet drawer is, since he's seen it but we haven't, not even our boss), and to a floor where the library (our vastly reduced reference collection) will be located on the other side of the floor from the librarians (oh yeah, that would be US).

If you picture the entire floor as a square clock, we are at 5:00 and the stacks are at 12:00. So we will be traipsing through another department's cubicles each and every time we need to get a book. (Yes, I know -- time to break out my pedometer and see how many WW activity points I can rack up every day.)

If this all doesn't sounds like much to be all MTM about, consider that there are many things I am NOT posting here out of discretion (what little I apparently still possess), but here's on factor for ya: on a floor of almost 90 people, there are 4 ladies room stalls. Yep, a whole whopping FOUR.

According to the American Restroom Association (yes, there really is such an organization; no, I'm not making this up), there are designated ratios based on occupancy for such facilities (we're not even going to get into gender disparities here, people) and they are remarkably chintzy.

So on this particular topic, I leave you all with this thought: I drink 8 - 10 glasses of water / beverages a day.

But also, all of the moving will have an unfortunate ripple effect on our support staff: the security guards, cleaning staff, newsstand operator in the lobby, etc. None of them know if they will be transferred over, and some of them already know they will be unemployed at the end of the year, when the current building is completely emptied. When you see people every day for 6 years, saying hello/goodnight with a smile, you do wind up worrying about them, especially since they are all uniformly pleasant and friendly.

So RTBT: they are keeping us and we will remain employed (with good health coverage -- YOWSA!)

And on unrelated but droolworthy note, I leave you with French pastry p*rn (hazelnut and coconut macaroons, French butter cookies, and chocolate-covered almonds, oh my!) each of which is bigger than my palm. They're from the Financier Patisserie mini-chain scattered throughout downtown.

Also, I have been requested by my relatives to no longer post photos of their superadorable offspring here. So while I may rave about their fabulous cuteness, I will no longer be able to put my memory card where my mouth is.