Ramblings about epidemics attached to pigs

FIRST U.S. SWINE FLU DEATH REPORTED:

Ok.  What are the details?  It was a 23-month-old toddler.  Was this child sick with another illness, perhaps an auto-immune disorder or some type of cancer which would greatly influence the fact that it wasn't JUST the swine flu in play here.  Was the child transported to the hospital in a timely manner?  

This stuff makes me crazy.  Maddie came home from school yesterday saying she was freaked out about it.  I asked her why.  She is strong, healthy, she exercises and eats properly.  If she gets the flu, her body is in prime condition to fight it off.  What is there to be afraid of?

Oh, she said.

Exactly.

So far there has been ONE death in the U.S., not hundreds and certainly not thousands.  Is that what it would take to freak me out?  Yes.  Thus far there have been 50 deaths in Mexico and 2,000 people with the illness.  Ummm, that just doesn't seem like a huge, enormous big deal to me, I'm sorry.  Call me crazy, but again, do I know that those 50 people didn't have something else going on, that in tandem with the flu, caused them to die?  I don't.  I don't have anywhere near enough facts to get to freak-out stage one.

When you consider that between 20 and 40 MILLION people died in the flu pandemic of 1918, pardon me for not going all cuckoo over 51 deaths.  There is also consideration that the deaths of that time were not caused by a strain of flu, but by tuberculosis, since flu typically affects the infirm, elderly and small children, whereas the 1918 disease went after people between their 20's and 40's -- often killing them almost immediately.  There are countless stories, like four women who got together to play cards, and by the end of the night three of them had died.

The fact that scientists are STILL not sure what happened in 1918 does not make me believe they have any idea what could happen today.  It is all theories based on computer models which are designed to create worst-case scenarios.

All I hear lately is about the swine flu.  It is all over the Internet, it is on local news, talk shows, it is getting its 15-minutes of fame and then I hope it fades off into oblivion.

The facts are that out of a world population of 6,776,520,595 people, 51 have succumbed to this new strain of whatever it is.  In the time it took me to type in that number (taken from the popluation clock) it jumped to 6,776,520,640.  In under a few seconds the world's population increased the number of people it lost to the flu.  In one minute it went from 6,776,520,791.  In no time at all, the population has already doubled the number of people lost to this strain.

I am just saying.  Context, people.  Context.

This map is kind of cool -- it has labels where every suspected case of flu has been verified and you can click on them and see more detailed information.  In the Northeast, there are actually reports of 1 case in New Jersey, one in Connecticut, and several in Maryland.  Epidemic?  Or not?

RSOE EDIS - Pandemic Monitoring System

Pre-summer pleasures

Tonight it was beautiful so I packed a cooler (and so it begins!) and we headed to the lake.  The neighbors grandchildren are up and they are two girls, one is Charlie's age and the other is in 4th grade.  Maddie, who is a sophomore in high school, hung with them as well.  

They went out on the boat, they played wiffle ball until it became too dark to see anything, and then they sat out on the lawn and giggled.  And giggled and giggled.

Peter had left as soon as the sun set and I had retreated from the dock to the screen porch with my book.  The sky was pastel gorgeous and I found my eyes drifting from the page to the scene before me: the beautiful sky, the calm lake, the arc of the birch trees silhouetted against the sky, and my ears tuned into the conversation the kids were having.

Apparently the youngest little girl was negotiating with Charlie how to best ask her sister out.  How hilarious is that?  And then there would be giggles.

I was transported back in time, to the vacant lot across the street from our house in our little Bedford neighborhood, where all the big kids played kickball after dinner.  By sheer will I managed to get them to allow me to play, despite the fact I was a good five or six years younger than they were, and this little girl telling Charlie what to do reminded me of me.

Just act like you know it, and the rest will follow!!!

As it grew darker and later, I could sense an urgency in their tones:  They were all waiting to be told it was time to call it a night.  But it wasn't going to be from me.  How many times had I been called home right in the middle of something so amazingly important it makes me ache to think of it?  Countless!  Too many!  Not fair!  For my entire life, as the day ebbs into night, I grow more alive and energized.  I am a true night person, and while I don't suffer from insomnia, when I am pushed into bed before I am ready, I will lay there for hours and hours and hours.  I spent a lot of hours as a kid just being pissed off that I had to be in bed.  Or staring out the window at all the older kids who could stay up as long as they wanted to.  NOT FAIR!

Nope.  I was in no hurry to get home.  True, the kids have school tomorrow, but so what?  Today it was hot and sunny, tomorrow it could easily be in the 30's and 40's.  Seize the moment!  Live while the peepers are peeping and the boring people are sleeping, I say!

So the big negotiations that the "giggler's" were in the middle of progressed, and the little girl ran into her cottage and Maddie ran into ours and pretended to have a conversation with me, which left Charlie and the intended (so to speak) alone. Oh, before that Charlie came in and asked me what to do.  I made some comment about not being in middle school and that was it really necessary to ask someone out?

But who am I kidding?  Of course it is necessary to ask someone out.  It is HUGE.  For me, in middle school, it was Bruce Schartner and Drew Conroy.  I think they both asked me out, and I think I said yes to both of them, and that worked out fine until ski season.  That was before  the days of triple chairlifts, so I was always pushed to make a choice of who I would go up with.  Oh, the angst.  Going out meant nothing, really, other than the fact that you were going out.  We did not kiss (horrors) and when Bruce gave me a ring as a birthday present, I was horrified.  What did THAT mean?  Oh, the angst!

And that is really all it is about.  Well, at least in my innocent world, and Charlie is still quite innocent in that regard.  (Believe me, if you'd heard the giggles, you'd believe me for sure!)

So as a parent, I don't want to get too involved.  Not because I'm not interested, but because I think the purpose of it all is to figure it out on your own.  There is a lesson to be learned from expressing your feelings and putting yourself out there, at the risk of being rejected.  It can be painful, but on the other hand, it can be the best damn thing that's ever happened to you!

She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no either.  Let's be reasonable, she is of the female species, and she and Charlie have had maybe two conversations over the past 13 years.  I am sure she is thinking what the hell!  Last year he liked her so much he ran away whenever she was around.  But they all clicked yesterday and today (the motley crew if you will) and if the common goal between all of them is navigating Charlie's love life, then so be it.

The sounds of the giggling was music to my ears.  It really was.  I kept finding myself grinning myself.

Will you go out with me?

Bongo baby bongo!

Wow, it's been awhile since I've blogged.  But my house looks fabulous!  We had a party here on Thursday night for the Eastern Ski team parents and coaches -- about 40 people.  Both Peter and I went a little nuts.  I cleaned everything there was to be cleaned downstairs -- including the oven and underneath the kitchen sink, and he landscaped outside.  We are House Beautiful right now, and I don't want it to be messed up!

Yesterday it was nearly 90 degrees, and I really don't appreciate the Universe throwing that out following day upon day of cold, raw and rainy days.  What is it?  Some kind of torture mechanism?   We did go over to the lake and sat on the dock, and this morning they put in the Whaler ... and we're supposed to go over later and put up screens.  It is early, but the thing is, you must grab the summer days when they arrive.  They can be fleeting and sporadic.  Today it isn't really that nice.  Which is the problem with a really hot sunny day coming out of nowhere, because it makes the days following that seem cold in comparison.  It's probably 70 degrees, but that is 20 degrees cooler than it was yesterday.  So it feels cold.

It's all wrong!!!!  And yet, it happens year after year after year.

So on Friday night we went to a Proctor event which included a live band, dancing and encouragement from said band to be participants.  They were more than happy to have you come up on stage and sing along, and they were insistent that you play instruments (they handed me this egg that shook -- I mean, picture holding an egg in your hand and shaking it ... what does it remind you of?  Do they do it to be funny?)

They also hand out a tambourine, a stick and a bell and there was a bongo drum in the middle of the dance floor.  I was busy chatting with people when I was grabbed by two friends and dragged out to the dance floor.  I don't really need to be dragged, but that's what they did, and somehow I was deposited in front of the bongo drum.  Seeing a fresh participant, one of the band members leapt off the stage and approached me and started banging on the drum, then indicated that I must follow suit.  So I copied what he had done.  Then he did something else, and I copied that, and so on, until I was sufficiently bongo-drum ready to be in the band and he left me.

Well.  I do not take such tasks lightly, so I banged those bongo drums with enthusiasm, while the tambourine player kept encouraging me, the band members kept giving me thumbs up and other people kept saying I was doing a great job.  I bongoed until I could bongo no more, and then I was coerced up onto the stage to sing.  I explained, as the song began, to the lead singer standing next to me, that I did not know the song.  That doesn't matter, though, you just wing it!  I am sure I was pathetic, well of course I was, I didn't KNOW the song, but it was fun and I just waved to my husband and friends as they indicated that they were leaving (and watched them go out the door.)  I stood up there (with others) until the last song was sung, and then ran off to find my ride.  And it was then I noticed that my hands hurt.  Like, a LOT.  I had felt that the rings on my fingers felt tight, but I was otherwise occupied and didn't pay too much attention.

When I got home I realized my hands were seriously swollen and it took me a good long while to get the rings off my fingers.  One of them is even bent! (The ring, not my finger!)  I woke up in the morning and they were bruised, front and back, all over, and super swollen.  BONGO DRUMITIS!  They still hurt as I type this and are still swollen and bruised, though a little less.

So alas, my potential future career as a bongo drummer does not seem imminent because I am thinking my hands are too important for such a dangerous occupation.  I clearly used every part of my hands because there are bruises on my wrists, the heels of my hands, all of my fingers ... the works.

I forgot how much fun it was to dance to a live band.  I was running around planning a big party for this summer because, well, they are so much fun.  Or at least I know **I** have fun!  And if you are at this big party I plan to have and see me in front of the bongo drums -- please make me STEP AWAY!!!!

You had me at stylish and hell, it's pink

I am in spring cleaning mode and I am in a relentless mood.  One big garbage bag and I are making the rounds, and if I don't like the looks of you -- you could be stuffed in and discarded without a moment's thought.  RELENTLESS I TELL YA!

But the one place that really needs a good work-over is this computer -- it is getting so slow because of all the pictures I have on it, and when I go to do anything in iPhoto, it often crashes.  NOT a good sign.  I do have back-ups of the important pictures (or as many as I could fit on several 2 gig flash drives) but I still have a TON of pictures.  A few months ago I went through and deleted hundreds of pictures.  This month I added close to a thousand from my trip to Arizona and California.  Good grief.

So I decided to check out external hard drives, and the first one I clicked on made me laugh.  Read this.  I mean, it's an EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE for heaven's sake.

LaCie Mobile Hard Drive, Design by F.A. Porsche 100GB 5400RPMUSB 2.0 and FireWire Made with a durable exterior to withstand life on the go, this stylish, compact drive lets you safely travel with your professional and personal data, including MP3s, audio tracks and photos. Since this portable drive is USB & FireWire bus-powered, no cumbersome AC adapter is required. There is also no software to configure on Windows 2000, Windows XP and Mac OS X because its driver-free. With plug and play convenience, its preformatted for immediate use on PC or Mac. User Benefits: * Universal USB and FireWire connectivity * Lightweight, portable design * Bus-powered* - AC adapter not requiredInterface : FireWire (1 port) and Hi-Speed USB 2.0 (1 port) Interface Transfer Rate : Hi-Speed USB 2.0: 480Mbits/s (60MB/s) FireWire: 400Mbits/s (50MB/s)Capacity : 100 GBUPC#: 093053653781MFP#: 300808

Does anyone remember the J. Peterman catalog?  I loved that thing and ordered so many items from it that I absolutely never used.  For one, there were hand drawings (not pictures).  Wait.

The caftan. Simple, comfortable, graceful, and easy to wear.

It’s one of those designs so well adapted to its function (think ax handles, ship’s rudders, etc.) that time has suggested few improvements.

So we’ve taken a deep breath here before standing up to announce something that may take a bit of getting used to:

The world’s first caftan with a concealed inner tie at the waist.

This empowers you to adjust precisely the caftan’s fit to your body; some people prefer a more tailored look, for example, when they leave home for the souk.

Caftan traditionalists and neo-caftanians should be able to lounge around together in a spirit of mutual appreciation, or at least tolerance.

This is not a matter of right or wrong; it’s about freedom of choice.

Adjustable-Waist Caftan (No. 2335). Ankle-length cut of pure cotton. Side slits. On-seam pockets. Taped V-neck and hook-closing placket leading down to stitched half-belt like panel at the waist; hidden inner ties continue around inside.

Size: one size fits most. Color: Coral and Pink floral on Taupe, with Pink trim.

The chances that I would EVER wear a caftan are slim-to none.  But the words ... oh the words ... freedom of choice, just yummy.  I just might purchase this caftan because it is pink and because the words dimmed the lightbulb in my brain and made me believe.  That caftans are good.

Anyway.  The same as those words with the silly external hard drive. (I had no idea that J. Peterman was around still, by the way.)  But this stylish and compact drive lets you travel safely with your data ... I mean, who doesn't want that?  I think they had me at stylish.  Just like a caftan, it's not about need.  It's about the delivery.

Time to go work out my credit card.  Does anyone else want to join me in building the new caftan-craze?

Anyone?

UPDATE:  The more I look at this caftan, the more I like it.

ANYONE?  

For those interested, the price of this be----U----T---Ful caftan is $89.  MY GAWD, a bargain!

Jeepers!

Today was the first day of SUMMER ... well, I mean, in my mind.  I took the roof off the Jeep today and drove around and sang at the top of my lungs and drove extra miles because it was sunny out and it is more fun to sing at the top of your lungs in the middle of nowhere.

So I did.

And then the gas light came on.

And the sun went in.

And I went home.  

Still singing.  

With the heat on.

WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Tomorrow is supposed to be nice again.

I can't wait.

The sun will come out tomorrow

(I don't know who Larua Pfalz is, but the picture was just too perfect not to use!)

Yesterday I drove down to Manchester for a dentist appointment and I ran a few errands afterwards.  It seemed that each errand took me to a different part of the city, and I found myself taking turns so that I would follow familiar territory -- just for the heck of it.

For example, I was at a stoplight when I remembered that I used to take this exit in the early days when Hallie was around 1 because her daycare was located there.  Weird, I'd forgotten that.  I remembered that I used to hit the grocery store after picking her up, several times a week.

As I flashed back to that time, I tried to recall how long that had been.  Couldn't remember though, but I do remember running into a father of one of Hallie's friends at the same daycare at that same grocery store years later ... and it was one of those deja vu experiences where it had happened before but now we had kids in high school.  Why had I stopped at that grocery store at that time?  Believe me, as he went on and on about his divorce, never getting to see the kids and the good old days when Hallie and Garrett were best friends, I think I made a mental note to never use that store again!  HAHAHA.

As I drove down the street where my office had been, I could recall the countless times that I'd rushed down that street in a mad panic to pick Hallie or Maddie and even Charlie at the daycare down the road ON TIME.  With my heart pounding I would glance at my watch and scream at the car in front of me to HURRY UP.  I was completely overwhelmed as I felt those post-traumatic stress feelings wash over me ... yikes.  What a sucky time that was.  It took about a full year of not working to completely loosen that pressure from my chest.  Always rushing and being late and feeling as though I was never giving my all to any thing properly.  SO NOT a way to live.  It wasn't living -- it was surviving.

Then I passed the deserted building where Jac-Pac Foods had been and I recalled the interview I had done with the owner.  My father had said to me not to come back with a picture of someone standing there smiling at the camera:  He said to get creative.  Well, I sweated that one out and as we walked the floor where the meat was being turned from carcass to hamburger, I asked if I could take a picture there.  He said no, I would have to take one in his office.  Disappointed that I wasn't going to bring back the bleeding lead, I glanced around the man's sterile office, wondering what could I do that would be different?  AAAAAAAARGH.  Then I spotted a trumpet hanging on the wall and I asked him if he played.  He said that he had in high school, and his wife hung the trumpet on the wall, he didn't know why.  I asked him if he ever played it, and he stood up and took it in hand and stared at it for a bit, then put it to mouth and blew.  

I had a hell of a time with the caption for that one, but I learned a very important lesson:  When you are interviewing someone and want to take a picture, you can get people to do pretty much anything!  I actually laughed as I remembered that, my drive down memory lane.

What was so interesting was the ride to Manchester had seemed so long.  I just don't get there very often anymore, despite the fact that that is where my dentist and bank are conveniently located!  The only time I think of actually switching dentists is when I am going up the steps to the office ... I've had the same hygienist and dentist since I was in my early 20's.   They are my friends, we chat, we have a history.  And it's only twice a year, I mean, it's not that much of a hardship!

The bank, well that is just silly, but my argument is that I still have a box of checks left! HAHAHA.  

What is so important to remember is that there is a world out there ... and on the days when I am feeling trapped in a gray world that has no redeeming qualities, I just need to remember that there are possibilities beyond the 20 miles I tend to travel in over the course of a week.  So when the woods aren't lush and inviting and the lake is speckled with ice and the mountain is no longer open for skiing, it is wise to remember that there are places one can go to find other things to do.  Even if it is just to drive around Memory Lane and remember moments from my very full and fulfilling life.

Am I REALLY here????

The thing about being gone for so long and immersed in a completely different way of life is that when you do come home, the comparisons begin.

I know that it is not "normal" for someone to go away, leave their family and just do something completely for themselves for a month.  I find that sad, actually, but it is the way it is.  I also think that it is sad that the majority of my family (with the exception of Charlie and Hallie, so I guess not the majority, just half!) had no interest whatsoever in joining me on my venture.  Whatever the excuse -- time, money, desire -- the bottom line is that they didn't want to go.  And I did.

A lot.

I just didn't expect that it would be THIS hard to be back.  It doesn't help that it is butt-ugly out all the time, with the exception of a day or two in the two weeks I've been back where there was actually some blue and sun in the sky.  I miss the utter beauty that was Sedona -- the majestic towering red rocks amidst a near-constant blue sky.  I miss the energy that seemed to flow and swirl and crack around me, providing an alive feeling that pushed me to the highest peak with ease.

The pictures say it all if you ask me!  The top was taken today, the view out of my office window.

I loved the vibrant colors of the food at my favorite market -- fresh food, alive food.

Here, it's a waiting game.  For it will get pretty here, and then the bugs will come out and force us all back into the caves of our New Hampshire lifestyles.  We will have fresh food too!  For at least three months, it will grow and make me believe for a short time that I CAN live here.  But then it will shrivel up and die and it will grow cold and then I will be forced to stare at dull, dead food and yearn for more.

It's not fair that I was in Sedona when it was unseasonally warm, it's not fair to compare since its not apples to apples.  (But them apples were fresh!)  In my heart I know that this is a beautiful place, that soon the grayness will be replaced with green and the promise of renewed life that is Spring. (And then we will get those few weeks of summer we are allotted, oh joy.)  And then it will be Fall and the return to the many months of gray winter.

There was a woman who lived in California most of her life, and then she moved to N.H. with her husband and family.  She was miserable, and I never quite understood it.  I am native New Hampshire, and there is a Yankee mentality that I can embrace that almost enjoys all the crap -- the mud, the black flies, the absence of a decent summer, the never-ending winters -- because we are tough and we can take it.

She was so miserable, I would say to her and her husband, why don't you move?  Why stay somewhere where you are absolutely so unhappy?  But stay they did, year after year after year.  Until she died.  They called it a "sudden" death -- a cancer out of nowhere that took her in weeks.  Except that she had been dying for the 20 years I'd known her, bit by bit, the life force drained from her until she couldn't sustain herself in this climate any longer.

She never traveled either.  I wonder if it was too hard to come home?

"Your whole point of view of your whole reality is based on what you believe you are, but what you believe about yourself is just a concept.  It is knowledge, but knowledge does not mean it is the truth.  Knowledge only means it is what you know."

Welcome to my world, as they say.