I think it's my age. I'm simply too old for Michael Jackson. Too much of my memory of him was Neverland, the pajamas to the courthouse, the pale face, the baby balcony thing. And as for his music and evidently his legendary status of having remade pop culture and pop music as we know it -- the only one who could dance and sing -- (Liza Minelli? Judy Garland? Gene Kelly?) I apparently have no real appreciation for that. This is the woman who thought James Taylor was hard rock.
I think that you go nearly anywhere in the world and you hear American music being played. We create the rhythmns and the sounds that reverberate. And to that end Michael Jackson captured something.
And I also think that news producers, anchors grew up hearing Michael Jackson and his death reverberated. I was standing in Moo Cow over-priced ice cream story at the Hotel del Coronado after a day on the beach when a young woman, with cell phone in hand, announced that Michael Jackson had died of cardiac arrest. She'd read the tweet. I was surprised and repeated it immediately to Ken. I'd learn much later that Farrah Fawcett had died too. But after the 12th hour of coverage I wondered what all the fuss was about. There hadn't been this much fuss when Paul Newman died. In fact, I was insulted that his death had created so little response.
I think it's my age. I'm 60. And I don't have my husband's or my children's affinity, taste, database for music, lyrics. I like Sinatra. I know all the words to Autumn Leaves, Misty, Fly M e to the Moon and most of the songs from Camelot and Fiddler on the Roof. None from Thriller and I just learned this week that a whole generation claim Thriller as the song that defines their adolescence.
Mine was Johnny Angel, the first 45 I bought at Kroger's in Kokomo, IN. from Jane Plotner's mother, who was a cashier there, when I was in sixth grade.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Detox update
We are now in the double digits of daily opiate intake. We got a wheelchair yesterday just in case. Sometimes it's hard for Ken to walk. But mostly he's a trooper.
By July 1, he will be off all opiates. On Tuesday we meet with the surgeon and learn if he has to have a trial, when the surgery can be scheduled and if there's anything Ken can take during his two week off-all-pain-meds to help with spasticity and cramps. Maybe not.
Ken's sister comes Monday for 10 days to stay with Ken during the day while I'm at work. It will be the longest time they've ever spent together without their parents maybe their whole life, with the exception of one two-week period when Karen was 14 and they spent two weeks at Lightening Dude Ranch, a time Karen loved and Ken hated.
Lucas comes after Karen leaves to spend a weekend tending to his father and his mother.
By July 1, he will be off all opiates. On Tuesday we meet with the surgeon and learn if he has to have a trial, when the surgery can be scheduled and if there's anything Ken can take during his two week off-all-pain-meds to help with spasticity and cramps. Maybe not.
Ken's sister comes Monday for 10 days to stay with Ken during the day while I'm at work. It will be the longest time they've ever spent together without their parents maybe their whole life, with the exception of one two-week period when Karen was 14 and they spent two weeks at Lightening Dude Ranch, a time Karen loved and Ken hated.
Lucas comes after Karen leaves to spend a weekend tending to his father and his mother.
Away We Go
There are a few movies I would own. That's my criteria at the end of a movie. Would I buy this for my film library? (I have a film library but its titles don't necessarily reflect anything other than they were either a great bargain on a sale table, a gift or a fairly decent bargain on a sale table. With the exception of Seabiscuit and the March of the Penguins.)
But in my mythic film library I would add Away We Go. (And Lars and the Real Girl, Little Miss Sunshine, Bottle Rocket, Princess Bride, Heartburn, Hannah and Her Sisters, Juno (maybe) and Il Postino, A Man for All Seasons, Lawrence of Arabia (which was a gift) and Babette's Feast.)
This movie is about a couple who become pregnant and go looking for a home (town) in which to raise their child. It is a heartbreakingly dear movie as they visit Phoenix, Tucson, Madison, Montreal and Miami in search of a home and their own bearings along the way. I like Sam Mendes (American Beauty) and I love this film and I want my children to see it.
The couple is tender, smart, vulnerable, real and drop dead funny. It could make me start watching The Office to see John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph (she's not in The Office but I wanted to write her name.)
But in my mythic film library I would add Away We Go. (And Lars and the Real Girl, Little Miss Sunshine, Bottle Rocket, Princess Bride, Heartburn, Hannah and Her Sisters, Juno (maybe) and Il Postino, A Man for All Seasons, Lawrence of Arabia (which was a gift) and Babette's Feast.)
This movie is about a couple who become pregnant and go looking for a home (town) in which to raise their child. It is a heartbreakingly dear movie as they visit Phoenix, Tucson, Madison, Montreal and Miami in search of a home and their own bearings along the way. I like Sam Mendes (American Beauty) and I love this film and I want my children to see it.
The couple is tender, smart, vulnerable, real and drop dead funny. It could make me start watching The Office to see John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph (she's not in The Office but I wanted to write her name.)
Sunday, June 14, 2009
SOS from Paris
Our daughter called yesterday from Paris. (Such is Amanda's life that last Saturday she was in Sedona and this Saturday she's in Paris.)
As was often the case when I talk to my children my first words were, "What's wrong?''
She'd forgotten to turn the water on for the cats.
This seemed an odd thing to call me about since I'm in Phoenix, the cats are in London and she was in Paris. I didn't have keys to her apartment nor did I know anyone who did.
"How long can cats go without water?"
Ah, she was calling Dex.
Or rather the one person she knew who had a computer or the phone number for a vet who could give her the answer to that question.
"I need to know if I should get on a train now or if they'll be ok until we get back Sunday.''
Her cats are in the habit of jumping into the bathroom sink or, preferably, the bathtub and sipping water from the trickle she lets run from the faucet.
She'd forgotten, in her haste to leave for work Friday morning and her jet laggy state, to follow the faucet routine.
Michael, who is vigilant about such things, was already in Paris with his mother.
I told her I was on it and would call our vet and call her right back. Meanwhile, in my attempt to deepen my shallow knowledge of feline hydration, I googled "How many days can a cat go without water" and found that there are many people asking this question. One post was months ago and no one had answered.
The answers from the Google search weren't nearly as helpful as my vet tech's. (If they lose 10 to 14 percent of their weight in water, it could be fatal. If you can weigh them and do the math presumably you can fill their water dish.)
The vet tech said they'd be fine.
I called Amanda. She was relieved and headed into a restaurant.
I'll call tomorrow to see how they (the cats) survived.
Meanwhile, if you or your loved ones should run into a dehydrated cat, be sure not to over-water them. This can induce vomiting which sort of exacerbates the dehydration problem. Give them sips (obviously take them to a vet if you can verify that weight loss thing) and Pedialyte is recommended for the same reasons we give it to babies who are deydrated. The electrolytes, etc.
From what I gather from my quick Google search canine dehydration is another matter and at this point I admit extreme shallow knowledge on that topic other than as a precaution if you are going to be gone again: Leave several bowls of water.
As was often the case when I talk to my children my first words were, "What's wrong?''
She'd forgotten to turn the water on for the cats.
This seemed an odd thing to call me about since I'm in Phoenix, the cats are in London and she was in Paris. I didn't have keys to her apartment nor did I know anyone who did.
"How long can cats go without water?"
Ah, she was calling Dex.
Or rather the one person she knew who had a computer or the phone number for a vet who could give her the answer to that question.
"I need to know if I should get on a train now or if they'll be ok until we get back Sunday.''
Her cats are in the habit of jumping into the bathroom sink or, preferably, the bathtub and sipping water from the trickle she lets run from the faucet.
She'd forgotten, in her haste to leave for work Friday morning and her jet laggy state, to follow the faucet routine.
Michael, who is vigilant about such things, was already in Paris with his mother.
I told her I was on it and would call our vet and call her right back. Meanwhile, in my attempt to deepen my shallow knowledge of feline hydration, I googled "How many days can a cat go without water" and found that there are many people asking this question. One post was months ago and no one had answered.
The answers from the Google search weren't nearly as helpful as my vet tech's. (If they lose 10 to 14 percent of their weight in water, it could be fatal. If you can weigh them and do the math presumably you can fill their water dish.)
The vet tech said they'd be fine.
I called Amanda. She was relieved and headed into a restaurant.
I'll call tomorrow to see how they (the cats) survived.
Meanwhile, if you or your loved ones should run into a dehydrated cat, be sure not to over-water them. This can induce vomiting which sort of exacerbates the dehydration problem. Give them sips (obviously take them to a vet if you can verify that weight loss thing) and Pedialyte is recommended for the same reasons we give it to babies who are deydrated. The electrolytes, etc.
From what I gather from my quick Google search canine dehydration is another matter and at this point I admit extreme shallow knowledge on that topic other than as a precaution if you are going to be gone again: Leave several bowls of water.
Detoxing detox
I've appeared to have overstated detoxing. Ken is now taking less opiates in a 24-hour period than he once took every six hours, give or take an hour or two.
Granted mornings are difficult. He goes his longest span of time without anything during the night. In the morning his legs don't move well at all. If we had to leave the house in a hurry he'd have to drop to the ground and I'd just roll him out. But otherwise he's handling this fairly well.
I'm less so.
It's part of that shallow knowledge thing. I don't know why he appears more overly medicated now than when he was taking nearly six times as much opiates.
Granted mornings are difficult. He goes his longest span of time without anything during the night. In the morning his legs don't move well at all. If we had to leave the house in a hurry he'd have to drop to the ground and I'd just roll him out. But otherwise he's handling this fairly well.
I'm less so.
It's part of that shallow knowledge thing. I don't know why he appears more overly medicated now than when he was taking nearly six times as much opiates.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Friday night
It's an odd night here.
Part new phase of detoxing: Ken was sound asleep when I got home. Katie's gone so CBS News has a stand-in anchoring tonight.
Even the TV News anchor has changed.
The end of the week routine -- dinner out or sometimes a movie -- won't happen. Last week, we were headed to Sedona with Amanda here on a quick vacation from London. This week she's in Paris and we're deeper into detox. I played solitaire watching the news. This time of quiet and peace and solitude has arrived and it feels unwanted. Like a party to which you have not been invited.
And word comes again of possible lay-offs at work. People are weepy, anxious. We'd had a month or two of relative calm. As much calm as you can have in these economic times when you are employed in an industry that has been circling the drain for a while.
So, we all wait. Supposedly, the announcement of 10 percent layoffs is expected July 8.
I am tracking time mostly by remaining miligrams of oxycotin in Ken's blood stream. Now another factor has been added to this complicated equation.
My friend Margot is grieving the death of her sister. My friend Kathleen is grieving the end of her daughter's childhood. I am missing my father who watched the demise of the steel industry and wishing he were here to talk about the evaporation of the daily newspaper, the bankruptcy of GM and Chrysler -- something this man born in Kokomo, Indiana, City of Firsts (firsts being claim to the first automobile) would find as incomprehensible as Continental Steel closing.
I am deepening my once shallow knowledge of loss.
Part new phase of detoxing: Ken was sound asleep when I got home. Katie's gone so CBS News has a stand-in anchoring tonight.
Even the TV News anchor has changed.
The end of the week routine -- dinner out or sometimes a movie -- won't happen. Last week, we were headed to Sedona with Amanda here on a quick vacation from London. This week she's in Paris and we're deeper into detox. I played solitaire watching the news. This time of quiet and peace and solitude has arrived and it feels unwanted. Like a party to which you have not been invited.
And word comes again of possible lay-offs at work. People are weepy, anxious. We'd had a month or two of relative calm. As much calm as you can have in these economic times when you are employed in an industry that has been circling the drain for a while.
So, we all wait. Supposedly, the announcement of 10 percent layoffs is expected July 8.
I am tracking time mostly by remaining miligrams of oxycotin in Ken's blood stream. Now another factor has been added to this complicated equation.
My friend Margot is grieving the death of her sister. My friend Kathleen is grieving the end of her daughter's childhood. I am missing my father who watched the demise of the steel industry and wishing he were here to talk about the evaporation of the daily newspaper, the bankruptcy of GM and Chrysler -- something this man born in Kokomo, Indiana, City of Firsts (firsts being claim to the first automobile) would find as incomprehensible as Continental Steel closing.
I am deepening my once shallow knowledge of loss.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Deeper knowledge
I am accumulating numerous topics for my Shallow Knowledge book, but an area in which I am gaining deeper knowledge at too fast a past is detoxing. Ken's not mine.
We have definitely moved past the easy part of this process. He began decreasing his pain meds several weeks ago at an impressive clip.
But during that process we flew to Chicago to visit Amanda and Lucas and my mother, not an easy trip, and other than being more tired than usual, he didn't skip a beat. He's managed to handle a weekend while I went away on a girls' spree to California and wine country and left him running the coffee and treat tent at church one Sunday. He's hunted down the last portable carrier on sale at ACE hardware. He's kept up his attendance at the men's 6:30 a.m. breakfast on Wednesdays and the ROMEO lunch on Thursdays.
But Tuesday, after we put Amanda on the plane back to London, he surrendered to the pain and exhaustion of steadily weaning himself from a three times daily down-the-hatch shot of oxycotin.
His handsome face is etched with a grimace of wearing, wearying pain. Yesterday, he fell asleep in the middle of playing Oh, Hell. He got up at 9 p.m. only to return to bed at 9:15. He was too tired, hurt too much to even pull the sheets up over his body. This morning he made his way to the kitchen for his bowl of cereal and milk. I cut the strawberries. He hurt too much to lift the knife. We aren't through with this. Harder days lie ahead. I'm grateful he can sleep.
For now.
His doctor said it would be like a very hard case of the flu. Maybe swine flu without the swine. You'll hurt so bad you wish you could die. The pain pops I've nagged him to quit sucking, I now find myself looking for to give him.
I will work from home today writing about xeriscape gardening about which I do have shallow knowledge but luckily good sources.
For detoxing I have a titch more knowledge and shakier resources, my self.
We have definitely moved past the easy part of this process. He began decreasing his pain meds several weeks ago at an impressive clip.
But during that process we flew to Chicago to visit Amanda and Lucas and my mother, not an easy trip, and other than being more tired than usual, he didn't skip a beat. He's managed to handle a weekend while I went away on a girls' spree to California and wine country and left him running the coffee and treat tent at church one Sunday. He's hunted down the last portable carrier on sale at ACE hardware. He's kept up his attendance at the men's 6:30 a.m. breakfast on Wednesdays and the ROMEO lunch on Thursdays.
But Tuesday, after we put Amanda on the plane back to London, he surrendered to the pain and exhaustion of steadily weaning himself from a three times daily down-the-hatch shot of oxycotin.
His handsome face is etched with a grimace of wearing, wearying pain. Yesterday, he fell asleep in the middle of playing Oh, Hell. He got up at 9 p.m. only to return to bed at 9:15. He was too tired, hurt too much to even pull the sheets up over his body. This morning he made his way to the kitchen for his bowl of cereal and milk. I cut the strawberries. He hurt too much to lift the knife. We aren't through with this. Harder days lie ahead. I'm grateful he can sleep.
For now.
His doctor said it would be like a very hard case of the flu. Maybe swine flu without the swine. You'll hurt so bad you wish you could die. The pain pops I've nagged him to quit sucking, I now find myself looking for to give him.
I will work from home today writing about xeriscape gardening about which I do have shallow knowledge but luckily good sources.
For detoxing I have a titch more knowledge and shakier resources, my self.
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