Another Missed Pun Opportunity

Really, people, I seem to be slipping. First, I missed the chance to entitle my last blog post "Socks and Violins," for which I am still mourning.

And then, last night, I threw a little party. On the eve of the Super Bowl, I threw a Soup Night, and I never even made the connection until people were standing in my kitchen, eating soup and talking about the game and I thought, "Souper Bowl! ARGHHHH!"  And my brain froze and I contemplated doing something wild and radical, like never buying yarn again, until I get my Pun Mojo back.

I did realize that only *I* can throw a dinner party and make people READ their way through it. (As always, you can click to embiggen.) (In case you're low on reading material.)

Actually, it was SHRIMP Etouffee because I couldn't find crawfish here.  I had to go back and edit the sign later.  (Of COURSE, I did.)

Ana said, "Why are you making so MANY cookies?"  And I said, "Because my philosophy about parties is that you can never have too much.  Well, actually, it's less of a PHILOSOPHY and more of a PSYCHOSIS."

 A SOUPER time was had by all.  (Yeah, I know: too little, too late.)

Dallas Wrap-Up and Socks, Socks, Socks

I'm home from visiting family and friends in Dallas.  I flew into New York on Monday in a driving rain storm, and was reminded again that I always think of New York City in black-and-white.  And gray.  (Gray, by the way, is REALLY fun to land in while on an airplane, you betcha.)

We had a tiny Dallas meet-up before I left.  It was VERY tiny--literally--since it was just Tiny Tyrant and me.  I'm sorry for the last minute plan.  (My social secretary is truly inept --I would fire her but she's...um...family.) I heard from a bunch of people who just couldn't swing it this time, but who are interested in meeting the next time.  Here's your head's up: I'll be back in town during the second week in April.  Maybe we can plan something fun?

Here we are.  She rained yarn down upon me, which, you know, was just icing on the cake after she turned out to be warm and funny and a non-biological sister.  It was good.

It was a great visit with my parents, who indulged me by eating TexMex with me every single night for dinner. Aren't they nice?  It was also nice to visit Texas in January, where the footwear of choice doesn't change much, regardless of the season.

Pay no attention to the pasty white skin.  It's useful in signaling aircraft and in the event of surrender. 

Meanwhile, back on Long Island, only one other member of the Cooper clan was ecstatic over the weather.



I was a little sad to miss the only snow so far this winter.  It was all but gone by the time I got home.

When I got home, there was a package waiting for me.  It was stuffed with yarn.

It turns out that having WiFi on an airplane is dangerous.  You can fall down and accidentally empty your wallet without ever leaving your seat!

Speaking of yarn and knitting, I'm on a huge sock binge at the moment.  I haven't written about knitting much lately, because I'm still knitting socks and more socks and I only knit three variations of socks so the only thing interesting about any of that are the yarns I use.  Recently, I've been on something of a Madelinetosh binge, especially in the sport weight, because these knit up fast and I have over-promised a lot of socks lately.

Also, it's yummy.

I knitted socks for my beloved yoga instructor for his birthday:

I knitted socks for my friend Shirley for her birthday, and then, on a whim, I knitted socks for my new yoga instructor Yvonne.  She GETS the whole hand-knitted sock thing, you know? For some people, they're just warm socks.  But for others, there's this sort of subtle transformation that happens. They put on the socks, and this...LOOK flashes across their faces and you know you've just made a convert.  Yvonne said to me one day, "I consider these among my most precious possessions. I have a hard time taking them off to wash them." And she had that look in her eye.

I know that look. It's that look that says that a pair of socks has changed forever the way a person thinks about socks.  I don't make the rules--it either happens or it doesn't.  But now I want to knit her some more socks because that look?  Is like getting a present (to this knitter, anyway.)

The ironic thing about all of this sock knitting is that I am entirely without a pair of hand-knitted socks myself.  Last winter was such a hard winter and so cold, I managed to put holes in every single sock I had ever knitted for me.  I didn't have that many, because I like to knit for other people more than I like to knit for myself.

Also?  It appears that when I'm knitting for myself, I come down with the worst case of "Second Sock Syndrome" (SSS) you've ever heard of (and I know you've heard of a lot, haven't you?) (Hello?) (Oh, hush.  Just...hush.) 

(Okay, I was looking for a link that has a good definition of the phrase but I couldn't really find one.  It seems that, while many knitters suffer from this affliction, few can define it. Basically, it's when you knit a perfectly good first sock and then, you just can't bring yourself to knit the second, for a variety of reasons, most of them featuring the word "boredom" in them prominently.)  

AT ANY RATE, I have a lot of first socks:

Actually, the one on the far right is Jane's, and, since she doesn't wear matched socks EVER, it's not REALLY a product of the SSS curse. (Except that I always knit her matched pairs, so maybe it is.)

While I was in Dallas, I added another one to this growing pile because I fell in love with this gorgeous yarn and had to cheat on the sock I was knitting for my friend Noreen's birthday in order to knit it up.

(I turned the heel during the latest episode of Downton Abbey, thus proving that I live in a fairy tale where all good things come together. I am thisclose to having animated birds chirping about my head and making me ball gowns.

Why yes, this is a parenthetical picture.  Because I am the Queen of the Tangental Universe.

)

Anyway, add this one to my shameful pile:

The yarn is Zitron Unisono, which is just like knitterly CRACK.  I could NOT stop knitting it.  Even after my friend Heather told me that the skein wouldn't be enough for two socks, I wasn't disenchanted.  That's some good yarn right there.  (But if you buy it, buy two skeins.) (Try not to think about how expensive it makes the socks.)

In addition to a new sock and some tortillas, I brought home my old violin.  My older daughter, Ana (almost 14) (excusemewhileIbreatheintoabag) is interested in taking lessons and learning to play.  This violin has been in my family for at least 100 years and needs a little work, but isn't it beautiful?

I played it myself for eight (excruciating) years.  It left me with a great ear for music --just, you know, zero talent for the violin.  I'll be interested in seeing what Ana does with it once it comes back from the violin shop.

I was a little tired and still dealing with a cough (my acupuncturist says I have "insufficient lung chi."  I did NOT say, "No chi(t)" but I THOUGHT it loudly.) so I lay on the couch for a nap. Immediately, out of nowhere, a pride of orange tabbies materialized and pinned me down.

It's good to be home.

{EDITED TO ADD: Oh. My. gosh.  I can't believe I missed a chance to name this blog post "Socks and Violins." I mean, how often does the Universe hand you a chance like THAT??  Am pouting now.}

Notes From Big D and a Meet-Up

I'm visiting family in the Dallas area, and enjoying the warm weather, although, MERCY, I had forgotten about Texas allergies.  I'm all croaky.  (Which is fine, actually.  It just means that instead of sounding like a ten-year-old GIRL, I sound like a ten-year-old BOY.)


Anyway, I'm in town and planning on being at The Original Pancake House at 2301 N. Central Expwy., Suite 156   Plano, Texas 75075, 972-423-2889 tomorrow at 11:00 AM. Send me a note if you can come, or leave a comment here!


It's very last minute, but I didn't want to miss a chance to meet some of my peeps. I hope y'all can come.  I have one copy of my book and we can do rock/paper/scissors or something if more than one of you wants it.


*****************


Yesterday I had a chance to meet a new friend, Tony Fiorillo (whom I "met" when I interviewed him for my latest freelance article on polar dinosaurs.)  He's one of the world's foremost paleontologists, and the best source ever for information and memorable quotes about the exciting dinosaur finds in Alaska.  He's also a really nice person, and instead of getting a restraining order after I emailed him, oh, seven million times in the course of my research for the piece, he STILL said yes to lunch.  (And then he arranged for it to be 77 degrees in Dallas in January so we could sit outside.)


He also let me actually touch some dinosaur bones.


It was one of the coolest experiences of my life.  At one point, I was holding part of the beak/nose of a Pachyrhinosauraus that was at least 65 million years old.


Sixty-five MILLION years old!


It was the strangest feeling--like suddenly discovering your family tree dates back millions of years. It kind of puts our human existence into perspective, you know? I was sitting on a ball earlier today and I thought, "This is totally annoying, but I doubt it will be important in 65 million years."


******************


So, remember in 2008 when I wrote about how my mom and stepdad had gotten married after 27 years of dating? Tomorrow it will be 31 years since their first date, and since my sister and I tried to file a missing person's report.  We called everyone even remotely associated with my mother, prompting my soon-to-be (twenty-seven years later) stepfather to issue a tongue-in-cheek official memorandum absolving himself of anything other than the purest motives in taking my mom to museum in Fort Worth.


I should have known when the embarrassment didn't faze him in the least that he was good people.  I'm so grateful to have him in my life.

Blogging from 20,000 Feet in the Air

I don't actually have anything really blogworthy to say, but I'm on an airplane on my way to Dallas to visit my parents for the weekend and the airplane has wifi and I just couldn't resist posting from THE SKY.

Isn't that just the most amazing thing? We live in remarkable times.

(Although, I did have the thought that instead of experiencing take-off in the "full and upright seat position," it really would make more sense if they made everyone lean forward really hard and raise our feet. How are we helping with the take off if we're sitting straight up?)

(Also, I had the thought that the man sitting in the aisle seat next to me is not going to be very happy when I get up once an hour to walk up and down the aisle due to my...issue...that I really don't want to have to explain. I'd rather he thought I had an over-active bladder.)

(I'm not sure what it says about me that I would rather a stranger think I am incontinent than explain I have a pulled muscle in my butt, but there ya go.)

Knitting post coming up once I'm on the ground again.  Meanwhile, if an airplane passes overhead, wave to me!

Also? No Dignity.

So, you know how I was all "No FEAR, baby!" in my last post?  All chutzpah and brashness, that's me in the New Year.  Not letting fear slow me down this year--I'm going to get into that yoga class and fall on my face and just be glad to be in the same room with my instructor Yvonne and her band of merry bendy people in the 9:30 Power Yoga class.  What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger--BOO YAH, Baby! Look at me being  pretending to be EXTRAVERTED.

And then, um...

Well...

I developed a Pain.

A real pain.

In my rear-end.

(Of course I did.)

When it seemed to be getting worse and began affecting my performance in yoga, I took a few days off.

But I still had that pain and it seemed to be getting worse.

I asked my husband, "What do you call it when you have a pain in the upper part of your hamstring?  Like, is there a muscle between your hamstring and your glute?"

My husband looked at me.  "I think that's just the glute."

Oh.

Dang.

So, I Googled "gluteous" and learned more about the gluteous minimus and the gluteous medius and the gluteus maximus than I ever, ever wanted to know.

Ever.

But, see, my pain wasn't associated with that muscle group.  It was kind of...well...deeper inside my bum.  Not really INSIDE my bum--I know what kind of doctor to call for THAT --but up in my (lordy, lordy, I can barely bring myself to write this) butt cheek.

I Googled "hamstring" and nope, that wasn't it.

I took a deep breath and Googled, "Pain in the rear end."

(I can't help it!  I'm from the South! My kids aren't even ALLOWED to use the "b" word.  (Well, that's not so true anymore.  They say it now and then they look at me to see if I'm going to flinch or scold them or what.  It's something DARING that they do.  I usually just mutter something under my breath like, "BOTTOM.  We're not RAPPERS, people."))

I was going to do a screen shot of the Google answer page for "pain in the rear end" but I couldn't figure out how to do it.  Google it yourself, or trust me when I tell you that most of the answers were talking about car repair.

I had to do it.

I Googled "pain in the buttock."

And the first answer was what I have: piriformis syndrome. I read a lot about it and performed every single test I could find on YouTube and there is no doubt about it, that's what I have.  It's just an irritated tendon that runs over my sciatic nerve, which is now pretty damn crabby, too.

Which is actually a good thing, because it means that what I was feeling was NOT my hamstring detaching on one end or something. That would be a bad thing.  This is just, kind of...embarrassing.

Anyway, I found several links that had good stretches which seemed redundant to me since I'm doing most of them in yoga.  And then I found a video that said I should roll around on a tennis ball.  Here's the video:



You should watch THAT one because I tried to make one of my own and you can just imagine what happened, right?




In the end, the thing that helped the most was called Thai Yoga Massage, which Yvonne is also certified to do. (The woman is just phenomenal.  Seriously, I want to BE her if I ever grow up.) AND my husband gave me a gift certificate it for our anniversary.  I'd been once before and it was just amazing.  It's very different from Swedish massage --you stay totally clothed, for one thing -- and incredibly cool.  (YouTube has videos.) (Of course it does.)

So anyway, I went last night and when it was all over, my pain was gone.  I was really flabbergasted.

I said, "Was this really different than the first time I came here?"

She said, "Well, we did some of the same stuff.  Only this time, you know, we did more butt work."

My life. You can't make this stuff up. And apparently, dignity isn't even an option.

No Fear in 2012

I love New Year's Eve.

Especially THIS year, which has been one of the most significant, hardest, and happiest years of my life. I'm telling y'all, if I keep the momentum I've gained in 2012, I fully expect that by the end 2012, I will be able to FLY.  You just watch me!

To recap:
I quit drinking officially on New Year's Day 2011.
I found yoga and fell down a lot.
I lost weight.
I found acupuncture and broke my toe.
I began to deal with the scars of having lived with chronic pain for so long.
I walked down the beach.
I celebrated my yogaversary.
I took my yoga to an entirely new level. (Well, I'm TRYING to do that, anyway.) (Today I went to the Power class at 9:30.  I came home so spent, I had to nap before I could even clean my kitchen.)

Amidst all of my personal growth and gratitude, our family sold our house, moved to a rental, enrolled BOTH girls in private school, took some trips, planted a garden, decluttered a large amount of useless stuff (well, we're TRYING to do that, anyway) and in general, found a new rhythm to our life here in New York.

It's been an extraordinary year.

I've loved looking back at it.  It wasn't an EASY year, really.  I feel sort of like I am emerging from the cocoon I've been in for the past five or so years.  Yes, I feel like I am coming into my own--becoming the butterfly I was meant to be.

It turns out that becoming a butterfly?  Is pretty dang PAINFUL.

No one tells you that part.

It's painful for everyone. I feel like I've been renegotiating the terms of all of my relationships.  I am less of a pleaser, but kinder.  I am fundamentally changed by having lived with chronic pain--in ways I don't fully understand yet.

Recently, I realized that I spend a lot of my time living in fear.  I am afraid of embarrassment.  I am afraid of pain.  I am afraid of exerting my own will/opinion/freaky sense of humor on others for fear they won't like me, or respond positively.  Part of my growth process for 2012 is to step out of that fear.  To feel it, acknowledge it and send it packing.

So, that's it, really.  That's my resolution for 2012.  I'm letting go of fear as often as I possible can.  To put myself out there as big as life, risking rejection and falling down (yoga) and making mistakes.  2012 is MY year.

Watch me fly.  I dare you to come with me.

I DOUBLE-DOG dare you.

Irony

Monday, December 26, 2011

This morning, my husband went on a bike ride.  It's very cold out and windy and he really didn't want to go, but he made himself because he knew it would further his fitness, and that he would feel better afterward.

It is in that same spirit that I decided NOT to go to yoga this morning.

I know, what?

I've been on something of a yoga binge --pushing my body in a more advanced class, taking multiple classes in one day, occasionally dropping to the ground to do a headstand in my bedroom.  (It's the latest thing I've learned to do! It's super cool!  I can hold it for minutes without crashing!)

(I mean, you'd do that, too, right?)

(RIGHT?)

Anyway, yeah, yoga BINGE is no misnomer.  I just love it so much. I can't get enough.

Except, my body is protesting the excess.  My shoulder hurts, I've got a small strain in my lower right back and a larger strain in my left glute. Nothing serious, but warning signs that I need to throttle back for a bit before I hurt myself and have to take a REAL break from yoga.

The thing is...

Um.

I'm afraid to stop.  (I guess we can just add this to my legion of psychological issues.) I'm AFRAID to go slowly, because what if I'm unable to start again?

I've written about this before, but basically, I think one of the legacies of my chronic pain/immobility adventure is this feeling that if I stop moving, my mobility will be taken away from me.  I fear that every yoga class is my last one, so I have to push harder, go deeper. I can't afford to have a bad practice because what if it's my last one?

Which is flawed thinking on many levels, not the least of which, it's not yogic.  Dharma Mittra himself says, "Do all postures very slowly, without pain or straining. [...] Do not overhold any posture. Break posture whenever it becomes uncomfortable." It's supposed to be about achieving a meditative state naturally; the union of the mind and body.

Which is not the way *I* approach ANYTHING, really.

So, today was a big step for me. A chance to practice what I preach to my daughters about listening to their bodies and practicing moderation and how life is a marathon, and not a sprint.

It didn't stop me from doing THIS in my bedroom, but I don't think you can blame me for THAT.