Hollywood, take note.

You Should Be a Film Writer

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Ferdinand the Bull (Disney, 1938)

I love Ferdinand. I love the book, too. I've given it as a gift but I need to get myself a copy.

Status, almost 30 days post-op

...yes, I am losing weight at the rate of a pound per day. I know this speedy weight loss is not going to go on forever. I think it lasts the first four months or something like that. Just in time for me to get my ankle fixed so I can work out!

I can really see why this surgery works: I just don't eat. I don't really want to. You have to cause yourself major pain and agony to stretch the stomach pouch and eat sugar/rich/greasy/fatty foods often enough (each time with the accompanying agony) to stretch the pouch and gain the weight back. I can't speak for other people who have had this surgery, but food just doesn't look or sound terribly appealing to me anymore. I even bought my granny a bag of bite-size Milky Ways at her request--they are sitting in my living room (I'm taking them to her tomorrow) and they do not tempt me in the slightest. I have fallen into another alternate reality--we're speaking of a person who used to say Hostess was her heroin.

I don't know what's normal, or if there is a normal, but my body is still happiest just drinking protein shakes. Every time I eat something more like people food, I get some stomach discomfort. I have been in major stomach discomfort most of the day and it was either caused by a mocha latte' Muscle Milk Light or 1/2 of a light breakfast taco that had some eggs, some chicken bacon, and green onions in it. And I drank water with it. I don't know what I can do for stomach discomfort...I don't think they make liquid Zantac. They have me on prescription-strength Prilosec (omeprazole) in the mornings. (Mr. Salted takes 20 mg, I take 40.)

I have felt sick from cheese. I have felt sick from fruit. I have gotten really sick from both meat and eggs. My body basically likes nothing but protein shakes in a can or little juice box-like thing. Fortunately, I have all these vitamin supplements and shakes, but can I live on them forever? If I can and be healthy, fine. I can live with that. I'm just worried about the health ramifications.

I'm glad I see the nutritionist Monday.

The good news is: I haven't taken any pain meds for a couple of days. The abdominal incision/bruising healing seems to have turned a corner for the better.

Hard Hats Required Past This Point: Entering Problem Area

My stomach and I have always had a difficult relationship. It's always been where the fat went first. Even when I was a (cuter than most, dammit, despite my low self-esteem) little kid, I had a belly beyond the normal little-kid belly that sticks out. Some shrill woman allegedly in the know (for instance, those succubi on "What Not to Wear") would deem it a PROBLEM AREA. I never noticed until just now what annoying phrase that really is. A problem area should be somewhere with no sharp edges where you can hug a teddy bear or pet a dog (or punch a heavy bag and scream profanities like Tourette's Syndrome has you by the toe). There should be Mexican spiced cocoa there that doesn't cause dumping syndrome. Cookies with similar magical ingredients wouldn't hurt. (There could also be shots of brandy for the patrons who just want to take their ball and go home--that will keep them there. Get them liquored up, they'll hit the heavy bags, the bar and the gift shop. Maybe I should start a chain of Problem Areas and make a bajillion dollars.)

I just hate my stomach so much. I have always hated it. I remember when I was fifteen years old and it decided quite suddenly to have four big stretch marks on it. That derailed me for quite some time. There was no precedent for their appearance, no weight gain or loss of note, I just woke up one morning and they were there. The universe had scrawled jaggedly across my adolescent skin with a big red permanent Sharpie. WTF was that about? What a load. I already had DDs, acne, glasses thick enough to kill ants in the sun and a perm worse than Victoria Principal's that one season of "Dallas". I think I weighed 150, 155 pounds at the time, maybe even less than that. Before I could even legally operate a motor vehicle, I worshiped at the altar of Vitamin E cream. (Of course, now I could win a stretch-mark contest in the childless division, but I don't feel the need to elaborate any further.)

My stomach is huge and I hate it. I don't even like anyone touching it, ever ever ever. I don't like wearing a shirt that even shows any portion of it--we all know it's there--but out of sight, out of MY mind. I wish I could spend my life in one of the trenchcoats of my '80s Batcaver youth (I even slept in them sometimes, over my pj's, like a security blanket) or in a huge Big and Tall men's hooded sweatshirt, which is like wearing a hug made of fleece. Who gives a rip what size your stomach is when it's covered by such a benevolent, fleecy, oversized hug? This is probably why some bulimics, recovering or otherwise, like big clothes. I am definitely one of these. I want everything too big because it makes me feel smaller. I always sit with a pillow on my lap, too, if I can. I'll use my purse in a pinch, but a pillow is better. Actually, I'll take more than one pillow if I can. I know big clothes don't make you LOOK smaller--no shortage of makeover succubi in the media AND in real life to helpfully point this out, so concerned are they with the appearance of every woman in sight--so I am trying to more balanced in my noggin about some of this.

I wanted a tummy tuck, like, yesterday. I can't wait to get one. I don't care how much it hurts or costs, I'm having one when I get down to whatever weight I get down to. I am not going through all this work and pain and CRAP to still have this THING I despise so thoroughly still attached to the front of me. It feels like a growth that just needs removing. I used to be obsessed with obtaining a breast reduction, and I'd like to have that too when all is said and done, but when the stomach surpassed "the ladies" it became more of a priority to get the ol' tuck. It motivates me as much as anything else.

Saturday 9: The Waiting

1. Have you ever stayed online for a very long time waiting for someone?

It's been years since I did that. I remember waiting an hour for someone once--I can't even remember who, probably just one of my friends. Instant messaging was a godsend when I first had it because it cut down on the phone bills ten years ago, I was making minimum wage, and I type 106 wpm. Now it kind of annoys me. People can only IM me on Facebook.

2. How do you eat Oreos?

I don't, now. That would be like an alcoholic chugging antabuse. I look at packages of chocolate anything and all I can think is how sick it would make me. When I did eat them, I favored the Halloween ones and the ones with the chocolate middles. The fudge-covered ones were also good on those nights when you just wanted to test what insulin could and could not balance in the human body. I liked them with milk, and I just bit into the cookie and ate it like any other--no taking it apart or anything. Boring, I know.

3. Are you cocky?

I maintain a defiant well-worn level of confidence in my own goodness as a person, my intelligence, my writing skills and abilities as a photographer, and the fact that I am about as honest and straightforward a person as one will ever meet. About the way I look, I am so far from cocky as to be in another galaxy. Seriously, my self-esteem pretty much blows--what I am is strong-willed. Try to hypnotize me. Just try.

4. Did you have an imaginary friend as a kid?

Apparently as a little kid (preschool/kindergarten age) I had a number of them and it really freaked out the family I was living with at that time. This must really date me, as now this would be called IMAGINATION and hailed with all kinds of wonderful complimentary adjectives. In the 1970s in my family of origin, all it did was make me odd. As I got older, my best friends were in books and in my writing, so they were all imaginary. They were nice to have when real people (I had many of those friends as well) fell short. I'm so proud to be odd. Nerds are the chosen people--they can get stuff done.

5. What t.v. station do you watch the most? Probably A&E and Vh1. I also like TLC and Investigation Discovery, and Comedy Central. When I'm slumming, TruTV.

6. Have you ever seen the ocean?
I have seen the Pacific and the Atlantic. Mr. Salted and I did a helmet dive in Cabo San Lucas in the Sea of Cortez--way cool! I love the ocean like I love nothing else in nature. It has always fascinated me with its beauty and power.

7. Have you ever been hospitalized?

Several times. For a broken ankle, for my hysterectomy, and for my recent gastric bypass surgery. I had a couple of outpatient procedures too.


8. What's your favorite brand of rootbeer? If I could drink it--A&W. I also like the Diet Hansen's. There's a kind that comes in a brown bottle that is really good--is it Thomas Kemper? That sounds right.

9. Could you live without a computer?

I could, but I wouldn't like it. My friends live in there.

Granny: catching up

I woke up today at 10:45 AM (!). That's insanely late for me, but I have been perpetually exhausted and I needed the sleep. I was so confused when I woke up that I thought it was Saturday. I called Mr. Salted's cell phone: "Are you still at the dentist?" He laughed: "Sweetie, that's tomorrow. I'm at work."

So, Tuesday: my friend that drove dropped me off at Granny's care center. I went through the hall, looking at all the names. I had been to this same facility years before to visit other people, and it looked very different--much nicer and larger. There had obviously been extensive remodeling and expansion. It also didn't have that ammonia and urine smell I remembered. There was a cat on someone's bed and a parakeet in a cage in the hall. Someone had a service dog, a black Lab. In about the sixth room I peeked into, I saw my grandmother. She was sitting in a wheelchair facing the door, and she saw me immediately, lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Hi!!!!" she said, "Oh, you look so pretty!" (I tried not to react--that isn't something she ever says to me.) We had a really nice chat. I made a list of the things she needed from her apartment. They brought her her lunch and offered me a tray as well, but I wasn't hungry. "She just had that surgery to lose weight," she told the nurse. The nurse and I talked about it and people we knew that had had it and had success. Granny just picked at her lunch. "They are after me because I don't eat enough," she said. I asked her about Ensure, and she said they did bring her things like that. Several staff people popped in and out and they were all very friendly. Grandma kept telling me how good they were to her. "But I don't want that cat on my bed," she said. (She hates cats.) I told her the feeling was probably mutual, and we laughed. For some reason, most cats have gravitated toward her although she can't stand them, but this one was giving her a wide berth. Apparently the facility has a total of three cats living there. Granny told me about calls that needed to be made (I have since made them). She was worried about a couple of bills being paid and the fact that it had been laundry day when she was taken to the hospital. I told her I would take her laundry to my house, do it and bring it back to her in a few days. I asked her what she thought she might want to do in the long run, and she said she wasn't sure yet. I told her I understood. I also told her how sorry I was that all this had happened on her birthday. "Me too," she said. "I was sicker than I have ever been in my life." Someone had brought her balloons and a card--her COPES caregiver. I was so, so glad for that. She also had all the cards family had sent her in the mail. This visit, I brought her a little Beanie baby ladybug that she seemed to like.

My friend came back to get me about an hour later. She is someone I have known since childhood, and Grandma hadn't seen her in many years, but she remembered her. We were telling funny stories of things we had done as kids. Then my friend and I went to the apartment to get things from Granny's list.

We went off the list, and found everything she had asked for. A neighbor was taking in the mail and kindly offered to continue to do so. I told her I would be back in a few days and that my uncle would be arriving after Labor Day. We cleaned out the fridge, took out the garbage, watered the plants, found the bills. We went through her closet to find her a few more things to wear. When she had arrived at the hospital and care facility, she had had nothing--they had had to dress her in spare clothes they had in their laundry room. Her COPES caregiver had brought her a few things since then, but she needed a few more and was still a bit confused as to what was hers and what had come from the facility's laundry.

My friend was such an immense help--she kept me moving and laughing, and she hauled the big stuff, knowing my ankle is still on the fritz. I don't know what I would have done without her there, and she acted like it was no big deal. Good friends are worth more than can ever be expressed in words, especially mine. Friends have been the greatest gift of my life, bar none.

When we got back to Granny, she was lying down. She said her physical therapist had been there and that she was tired. We arranged her clothes. My friend had had the smart idea of bringing her her Bible, and Granny looked absolutely delighted to get it. I helped Granny with her checkbook--wrote out a check for a bill, she signed it and I mailed it for her. We chatted for a bit longer, and I said I'd be back on the weekend. I hugged her and kissed her. She seemed so small, and her hair and skin is so soft, like a baby's--maybe that's another way we regress as we age. It was the first time in my life I had seen her with completely gray hair--she has always dyed it brunette. It has become a pretty silver white. "I always wanted it to be silver," she said. "I guess it just decided to do it all of a sudden now."

I can't say I had no emotion seeing my grandmother in a nursing home, but it was not unexpected and I was not really upset by it. She was absolutely sweet and it was the most pleasant visit I've had with her in probably fifteen years, maybe longer. I know she is taken care of there. She also seemed happier and more contented than I'd seen her in recent memory. I was just glad that I was finally able to see her, to actually be of some help when there was no one else to do it, and to just hug and kiss her and tell her I loved her in person. I had been feeling so helpless being unable to drive up there and take care of business, so frustrated not being able to know what was going on. I left still not knowing much of what went on or what was going to happen, but feeling good because at least I was able to do the basic, preliminary stuff. I went home so exhausted I was barely able to move and fell asleep for about twelve hours.

******

So, the next day, I was about worthless, which is what I expected. There has been a lot of calling and emailing among the family and my friends checking in re: Granny. There has been much sleeping and watching of bad TV, and it has been good.

Yesterday, I got a call from her COPES case manager. It was a very productive conversation; I learned things that I didn't know, she learned things that she didn't know. Nice lady. She wants to find a way to make Grandma going back to her apartment successful, and so do I, and so do my uncles. It was obvious this woman cared and was doing everything in her power to advocate for Grandma.

I called Granny today and reminded her I would be up on Sunday. It looks as though I may become the person that handles her finances, which is something I dread. I have a lot of caveats for agreeing to be that person, though. (a) The minute she stops cooperating, it's over. (b) The minute anyone in the family tells me I'm doing it wrong or gives me one iota of BS, it's not only over, but they've instantaneously gotten themselves a *BRAND*NEW*JOB*! I'm going to check into what the state payees cost--I would rather have it handled by a neutral third party--but none of us really has the cash to spare to pay such an individual.

Sigh.

8 Things (stolen from Slacker-Chick)

8 things I am looking forward to:

1. Fitting into cool clothes that I really like--vintage, goth-y, hippie stuff--instead of only being able to do the shoes, bags, and hats due to my size
2. Buying and wearing said clothes
3. Feeling better physically
4. Doing more stuff because I feel better physically
5. Someday finally having my own dog
6. Finishing a book
7. Publishing a book
8. Growing old with Mr. Salted

8 things I did yesterday:

1. Vacuumed
2. Found a new family doctor to do my pre-op stuff for the ankle surgery
3. Talked to Grandma's COPES case manager on the phone
4. Looked at catalogs
5. Left feedback for some Ebay purchases
6. Organized my shoes (They're probably already disorganized again. I think they reproduce quite frequently when left alone in the closet.)
7. Reviewed "Strip City" by Lily Burana on Goodreads
8. Facebooked

8 things I wish I could do:

1. Sing like Joan Osborne.
2. Play the piano.
3. Suffer fools gladly. (It would certainly improve my career.)
4. Like people more than I like animals. I just don't see this happening.
5. Live in Cannon Beach, OR.
6. Eat chocolate, French fries, and many other wonderful yet evil foods that I can no longer have.
7. Wear a backless dress.
8. Be the most gorgeous woman in the room just once.

8 shows I watch:

1. Intervention
2. Breaking Bad
3. The Riches (Is it coming back? It better.)
4. Two and A Half Men
5. The Daily Show
6. Big Love
7. United States of Tara
8. Divorce Court (I get a boot out of Judge Lynn)


8 places I'd like to travel:

1. Europe
2. New Mexico
3. Alaska
4. Hawaii
5. San Francisco
6. Scotland
7. Caribbean
8. Philly

8 places I've lived:

1. Bremerton, WA
2. Woodinville, WA
3. Framingham, MA
4. Rancho Cordova, CA
5. Kalispell, MT
6. Salem, OR
7. Corvallis, OR
8. Bolivar, NY