Straight to the pants

The very first thing I do after work is run to my bedroom, strip off my business casual attire, and jump straight into my old sweat pants. To a certain degree I am shedding my day and leaving it in the past. But the best part is that I'm plunging headlong into the known. My old sweat pants never tell me I'm wrong and never judge or criticize. As many times as I'm being lazy when I wear them, I have the paint stains to prove that I accomplish things when I'm in them. I always resent it on the nights when I have plans and can't go straight to sweatpants.

This got me to thinking about familiarity and avoidance. Even though they seem to be very different on the emotional meter, they often go hand-in-hand. We embrace the familiar in order to avoid negatives in our lives. But at some point, when we live too often with the familiar, our image deteriorates, getting old and stained and sweaty. What we originally convinced ourselves was shedding the past may really be fear of the unknown. There is a fulcrom in there somewhere - the balance tips and the recluse in us gains control.

Recluse scares me a little. But I'm not giving up my sweatpants.

Nuclear Waste Management

Cross my heart, I believe that nuclear waste management is an important environmental issue. Those little radioactive isotopes can contribute so much to our lives, it behooves us to figure out a safe way to deal with them once we're done with them. But I must admit to being slightly bewildered when I received the following instructions earlier this week at the doctor's office where I went to have some nuclear imaging studies:

"We're going to start an IV, and inject some isotopes so we can take some pictures. After you receive the injection, we'll need to wait about 30 minutes for it to travel through your body. If you need to use the restroom during that time, please be sure to use the one in our office, as your urine will be radioactive, and we have to follow special protocols to contain it."

Hmm. What can one possibly say to that except to nod with your gaze slightly lowered in a moment of slight embarassment. Having come of age in the era of "China Syndrome," "Silkwood" and Three Mile Island, I understand the negative connotations of radioactive contamination all too well.  I have since found out that the amount of radiation I received is equivalent to an x-ray. Teeny-tiny and reportedly quite safe. But somehow I never imagined that I would be considered a purveyor of nuclear waste, or require special protocols to deal with my pee.

So people's opinions about nuclear technology are generally not ambivalent. Black and white, for or against, yea or nay. But I find myself strangely caught over the divide. I certainly don't want to contribute to the contamination of the planet, but I also want to be able to use the best available technologies to ensure my health. Or to create electricity for my home. Or what ever it is. I have no idea how well nuclear imaging offices are equiped to deal with radioactive body waste. Truly, I hope someone did their homework on that before they started injecting those of us with the pains that can so cause you to take stock of life.... and pee.

A pain-in-the-scapula

On Tuesday I had a pain just under my left scapula. It didn't just poke me and leave. It moved in and stabbed me repeatedly for over an hour before it forced me to pay attention. And for the next 10 hours it was my constant companion. Of course, being the excellent student that I am, pain near the heart gave me much reason to pause and reassess.

In this moment, many people will have the life-flashed-before-my-eyes experience. Personally I was too busy trying not to scream in agony to get that dramatic. But God did get my attention, primarily about the boo-hoo pity me attitude that has been more prevalent in my thoughts in recent days.

I hate resolutions, they always seem to set me up for failure. But we're close enough to the beginning of the new year to say that this event has caused me to resolve to change my way of thinking about my life. Everyone has challenges. Ignoring them doesn't make them go away. If I can't change the situation, I can certainly make the best of it.

Meanwhile, my regular doc seems to think it was muscle-related rather than anything more serious. (Of course he's ordered a bunch of expensive tests to make sure...) So I will pick this old body up and try to stay away from sharp-pointy-painful things.

Channeling Aretha

Today Aretha Franklin is in my head. She even slipped out of my mouth at one point. One of the subjects that Aretha is most famous for is respect. when you mention her name, it's the song most of us think of immediately.

So why am I thinking about respect?  Well, I did capture the picture you're looking at on my new camera. I love my pooches, and Gizmo has more forebearance than is reasonable to expect.

Curfews are a sore subject at our house right now. With an 18-year-old high school senior in the house, any kind of rules tend to chafe. He missed his curfew on New Year's Eve (1 a.m, by the way) by four minutes. According to him, he was "hitting all the red lights."  Plausible, and even likely. However, instead of calling me on the phone we have given him, he just showed up late. And because the number of minutes was so small, he didn't think that it should be counted as being late. At 1:05 a.m. I declined to discuss it further. But today when he asked to have his regular curfew extended, I told him no. Not a popular decision, I have to tell you. And I told him it was because he didn't respect me.

Now he is the baby of the family, and I'm sure that I've treated him as such on more than one occasion. But I hope before he leaves the house in May to make the foray into the college world, he understands that respecting someone means that even in the small things, your actions take the other person into account. Our goal has been to raise our chilren to be self-sufficient, and that they are. But life doesn't happen in isolation, either. At some point they have to learn to put other's needs in the same neighborhood as their own.

And don't worry. Gizmo had to endure the headband only about as long as it took to take the picutre. Thank you, Giz.