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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04


2004-07-22 ... 3:03 p.m.

My friend S. is learning how to be a massage therapist, and thus she is experienced with many things that, at my current HARD-EDGED SCIENCE type of job, are considered to be mumbo-jumbo. That is certainly not my opinion. Obviously some Chinese herbs are pharmacologically active, acupuncture makes something happen (it seems to work on animals, and animals cannot demonstrate a placebo effect),* and what could be nicer than a person who rubs and presses and kneads your muscles into a healthier and more pleasing arrangement? Unless of course you are a delicate little pansy, like me. I have neck and head and shoulder issues,** and massage has been suggested to me many, many times in the past. Twice I have listened to the suggestions, and twice I have concluded that massage is not for me, because no matter how many times I politely say, "um, that really hurts, and not in a hurts-so-good way" to the therapist, I still leave feeling punched and pummeled and violated.

*I get a little tired of hearing "the placebo effect" discussed negatively, anyway. Dude, if you feel better, you feel better. As long as they worked, I would take Placebinex or Fakerall or Pretendentin over real prescription drugs any day.

**My issues are not regular old boring neck pain. Oh no. I've got to be special. I have to be all cerebral and self-conscious about what would ordinarily be a simple embodiment issue. I have to have the persistent and very unsettling feeling that my head is not properly attached to my neck, and thus*** I end up carrying a lot of extra tension in the back-of-the-skull region, in an effort to keep my improperly attached head from falling off. That look on your face? I get it a lot, when I describe this problem.

***Dick Fucking Cheney,**** that is the second time I have used the word "thus" in this entry. I resolve, forthwith, to cease such elocutions. Yea verily.

****This is my new favorite curse.

Anyway, S. suggested that I investigate craniosacral therapy for the neck pain, and I did, on Tuesday, with a practitioner in Evanston. It was weird, and I still have not formed a solid opinion on the experience, but right now I am leaning in the direction of "good weird." I felt very soft and floaty and cheerful afterwards, and oddly energized, and pain-free. Maybe that was related less to the therapy itself and more to spending an hour in a dark room, listening to trance-y music, and being touched very gently by a nice lady, but I really don't care.

EVERYDAY PEOPLE

Evanston Express train: Muscular Asian man with a huge, ornate Celtic cross tattoo. Maybe he just liked the design. Maybe he actually has some affinity for/connection with Irish or Welsh culture; international adoption has taught me to never assume. Maybe (this is my favorite explanation), he got the tattoo as a response to the hordes of clueless white people who get Chinese characters tattooed on themselves for no particular reason.

Red Line at Addison: A red-faced, fishing-hatted, white-bearded dude gets on and starts ranting about Jesus, mercury in the drinking water, robots in outer space, mind-control devices, etc etc BLAH BLAH BLAH. WHY ARE CRAZY-PERSON SPIELS ALL THE SAME? Seriously, this warrants investigation. Is there something about schizophrenia that makes 99% of its victims suddenly interested in these particular topics? Change the channel already, crazy people, you are boring us. This guy was sitting right next to the door and staying mostly on-topic about robots (they walk among us!) when the train approached my stop. While I was waiting for the train to pull in and the doors to open I very quietly repeated, "I am a robot. I am a robot. I am a robot." He looked at me with some alarm and in retrospect I feel kind of bad, but maybe it is nice to have your crazy paranoid worldview validated every once in a while.

While waiting for LT and Nora outside a restaurant, I sat on a bench next to a good-looking older man talking very quietly on a cell phone. It was much more of a real conversation than my cell phone conversations, which tend to be drunken and shouted. At one point he mentioned Zeno's paradox to whoever was on the other end and I think I fell in love a little bit.

MY PHONE CONVERSATION WITH NORA

(sounds of LT handing her the phone)
Nora: Mama!
Me: Hi Nora! Hi pumpkin! How are...
Nora: Mama!
Me: Yes, Nora, it's Mommy! What up, girlfriend?
Nora: Mama!
Me: That's me! Hello!
Nora: Mama!
Me: Right, we've established…
Nora: Mama!
Me (giving up): Nora! Nora! Hi Nora!
Nora: Cat! (pause) Meow meow meow meow meow!
Me: Are you thinking about a cat?
Nora (long pause): Bye-bye!
(click)

Notifylist had another seizure recently. Although Andrew assured me that it has been given its medicine and all is well, if you are one of those completist types you might want to hit the back button a few times, to make sure you have caught every last drop of my unpasteurized fresh-squeezed nonsense.

I really hope to ride my bike this weekend. I have not been out on the bike yet this year, and it's all Nora's fault. Kidding! But not really. We bought a bike seat and a helmet for her, so now there are no more excuses.

---mimi smartypants has initiated her docking sequence.

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