Cover Your Mouth and Nose!

PSA from the GNB...

Did you know that Sneezes travel far and fast. About 100 miles per hour and can transport your germs more than 150 ft. In this time of cold, flu etc. be caring of those around you, your family and friends, and even all those strangers. If you have to cough and sneeze- cover it!

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Dave Letterman Dresses Jen Garner's Wounds

'Cause I love Jen Garner.

Huffington Post:

Garner said she took a header out on a run one day.

I wasn't even making an action movie or anything. If you do it when you're making an action movie, you feel cool. When you do it when you're just running on a beautiful day in front of a lot of people, you don't feel so cool. You think you're anonymous and suddenly everyone's like 'Jen Garner just fell down! Jennifer, do you need help?!'

With that Dave whipped out some ointment and started dressing her wounds.

Alias was a fun show. Sydney Bristow ROCKS.

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Friday Open Thread

Friday, thank the Gods.

Been visiting doctors most of the week. More -- lots more -- the next month. Nothing major wrong, as far as they can tell so far. They're trying to make certain that is really the case, and that this one issue isn't a pointer at something serious. So far, so good. Some of the tests, however, hurt.

Kindle 2 is out. Anyone?

I know I'm running late on the Oscar contest results. So sorry. The results will come out this weekend. I already have the book at home, waiting to ship to the winner.

Presidential politics? The economy? Housing market?

Weekend plans? Weather? Anyone get clobbered by the east-coast storm? It's kind of nice out here in Seattle.

Sushi. I've had sushi for lunch and dinner at least three times this week. I love salmon/avocado rolls. And salmon, both raw and seared. We have a little sushi joint near my office which has plates which circle round and round with just two to three pieces on a plate. Each plate is colored and different colors means different prices. This way you rarely have to wait and you don't eat more than you want. And if they don't have what you want, you just ask and they'll make it for you on the spot and put it on the correct colored plate. Two days ago I had 16 plates worth, however five of them were pastries for desert. Heh.

Yes, I know blogging has been a bit slow for a while. We'll start to pick things up again in the weeks to come. We're not going anywhere.

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National Health Insurance Needed, Reason #247,342,589: desmoinesdem

“February Sucks”

February one year ago a writer named desmoinesdem made an appointment with a doctor for an issue which seemed minor.

Next thing you know, desmoinesdem was in the hospital on IVs.

Then multiple systems were involved. Mega pain killers were needed and even they weren't enough.

Her family was called in. Yeah.

Unlike Gilly, this February story has a happy ending... desmoinesdem lived and recovered. She wrote out not only what happened to her, but about the loss of Steve Gilliard. That cry of pain (slightly rewritten) was just reposted on MyDD a year later.

We make certain to talk of Gil on his birth and death days. Occasionally other days also seem right. February is the hardest month of winter, especially this year. No need to rip off the barely healing scar. No need to share your story unless you really need. Healing takes years, truly it takes years and years. For many people they're not even into let alone past the second stage of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. For others, it's over (or at least shut down for processing.) Wherever, whatever, however, suppress it if that's what you need right now.

It's fine to let others outside us speak. Just breathe...

Thank you desmoinesdem for beautiful writing, for reminding those of us inside The Group/News Blog family how much those outside cared and still do care. And for ripping your heart wide open by sharing your health, wellbeing and family with everyone.

Daily Kos (desmoinesdem)

My health insurance may have saved my life

I am a healthy woman in my late 30s who rarely sees a doctor outside of regularly scheduled checkups. I have had two uncomplicated pregnancies followed by easy, midwife-assisted births.

Most years we pay far more in premiums for our family's health insurance than our medical care would cost if we paid for everything out of pocket.

Not this year. Yesterday I returned home after spending seven days and six nights in the hospital. It might have been a lot worse if I were uninsured.

On Friday, February 15, I felt my left ear close up in the mid-afternoon. I soon realized that I was getting an ear infection, the first I'd had in approximately 30 years. I asked my husband to pick up some homeopathic ear drops (oil infused with garlic and other herbs) after he came home from work, and I got out the ibuprofen.

We try to avoid using antibiotics in our family, and the medical community has swung away from automatically recommending antibiotics for ear infections, because so many resolve within a couple of days on their own. The idea now is to use other methods to reduce the pain while waiting for your body to fight the infection.

By Friday evening I was miserable. The ear drops and ibuprofen did nothing to reduce the pain. Sitting upright was no more comfortable than lying down. I had no idea how I was going to make it through the night, but in the early hours of Saturday morning my eardrum ruptured. That released the pressure from the fluid building up in my ears and brought the pain level way down.

Saturday I called someone I know whose husband is a retired ear, nose and throat doctor. Her husband confirmed that many ear infections are viral, and it was prudent for me to wait it out. I used ibuprofen to control my fever and used tissues to wick out the fluid that was seeping out of my ear.

Sunday morning I noticed a slightly sore spot just below my right knee, on the outside part of my leg (around the top of the outer shin bone). I thought I slept funny, perhaps because of the ear infection. I also had a sore spot in my upper left arm, which I figured was from getting whacked by my two-year-old.

By Sunday afternoon I no longer had full mobility in my right knee. I take Pilates twice a week, so I called my teacher. I told him I couldn't think of how I would have injured my knee, since all I'd been doing was lying around getting over an ear infection. He said it was possible to strain a tendon by sleeping in an awkward position, and we'd need to keep an eye on it.

Sunday evening I started limping heavily, and Monday morning I could hardly put any weight on my right leg at all. I briefly considered toughing it out, but decided to make an appointment with our regular doctor, an internist. He was fully booked, but I got in with a nurse practitioner who called in my doctor when she saw my knee.

At that point it was painful and swollen, but not red or hot.

A blood test revealed a high white cell count, and my ear was still draining fluid, so they prescribed an antibiotic for my ear infection. I got the prescription filled right away and started taking the oral antibiotics around noon on Monday.

The big concern was that I might have a blood clot developing. The doctor and nurse were skeptical, given the location of the swelling. On the other hand, I had been lying around all weekend. Other possibilities included tendonitis, which didn't seem to fit, or some kind of inflammatory auto-immune reaction related to my ear infection.

Because I have health insurance, I spent all of Monday afternoon getting these possibilities checked out. First, to the imaging department for x-rays of my leg in various positions. Then, off to the vascular center, where a nurse used a doppler (ultrasound) to check for blood clots in my legs. Then, to a different imaging center where I had x-rays standing up and an MRI of my right knee.

Without insurance, these diagnostics would have been prohibitively expensive. I would likely have stayed home, hoping my leg got less sore soon.

I went home Monday with no answers and an appointment to see an orthopedic doctor first thing Tuesday morning to get his interpretation of the MRI.

Monday night was miserable for me. I was told to take a double dose of ibuprofen to help with inflammation, but even so my leg was killing me. I still had a low-grade fever, which shot up whenever the ibuprofen was wearing off. My right calf started to get red and hot.

That was when I should have gone to the hospital, but I didn't realize it at the time.

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Go read the rest of the story. It's well worth it. We'll wait.

Told ya. National Health Insurance for everyone. We needs it.

Make sure you have a tissue handy. Or at least can sniffle discreetly if in public.

MyDD (desmoinesdem)

Two years without Steve Gilliard

One day in February 2007, Steve Gilliard wrote his last post for the News Blog and went to the doctor to get a prescription for a cold he couldn't shake. He was admitted to the hospital right away for treatment of an infection of unknown origin, and he never was able to get back on his computer. He died that June.

I know I'm not the only former News Blog addict who thinks of Steve every time Republican Party chairman Michael Steele says something ridiculous. Steve would have had a field day with the RNC leadership contest. Just imagine the post he might have written about this list of prominent conservatives who endorsed Ken Blackwell.

Further reflections on what Steve's blogging meant to me are after the jump.

I don't go as far back with Steve as many bloggers. I only discovered Daily Kos after he had moved on from the front page.

I "got to know" Steve by clicking through links I found on other blogs. I liked his voice. He was funny, even when angry. He seemed to be about my age. Although his life experiences as a black man from New York City were very different from mine, I could relate to his perspective on many issues.

I absolutely loved his rants. His writing flowed so freely, and was so full of emotion compared to my own style.

I also found his optimism refreshing. I can be a pessimist by nature. He was convinced that George W. Bush would not serve out his second term. I didn't believe him, but I enjoyed reading the case he made for it. Although Bush was not driven from office as Steve expected, he did set records for disapproval ratings by the end of his presidency.

Steve was knowledgeable about military history, and I learned a lot from his posts, though I admit that I never made it through every piece in the thoroughly researched "Colonial Warfare" series.

I started checking his blog once a week or so. By late 2004 or early 2005 I was checking every day. In 2006 I often checked two or three times a day.

I didn't know him "in real life" at all. We had a few e-mail exchanges when I sent him links to articles I thought he'd be interested in (like this one, this one and this one, all about people who had volunteered for military service).

Eventually, I started commenting at The News Blog. I liked the community there, especially "Mrs. Robinson," whom I respected for her insights at Steve's place long before I had heard of Sara Robinson or the Orcinus blog. I could always count on Mrs. Robinson to say something sensible on the threads below Steve's posts on parenting. (As much as I loved Steve's blog, if he ever wrote anything on parenting that I agreed with, I can't remember what it was.)

When Steve's health crisis began, I was shocked. I hadn't been reading long enough to know about his previous heart surgery, kidney failure, or other challenges. The News Blog community rallied to produce guest posts every day until Steve was able to return to his writing, and I even contributed a few recipes to the mix. After a couple of months of this, I began to fear the worst. Finally, on June 2, I saw the post I'd been dreading.

For weeks after Steve's death, I kept checking The News Blog every day. I don't know why. I think that on some subconscious level, I kept hoping that one time I would click and not find Steve's obituary on the front page.

Not long after Steve died, some of his friends and regular commentators on The News Blog formed the Group News Blog. I am not a regular commenter or even a frequent lurker at the Group News Blog. It's not that I don't appreciate the writers' talents--I think that going there just makes me miss Steve more.

If you feel like taking some time to remember Steve, here are links to many obituaries that bloggers wrote, the the New York Times obituary that ran in June, and Matt Bai's piece published in the New York Times Magazine at the end of 2007.

I learned from sardonyx that links to Steve's Daily Kos posts can be found on Steve's dKosopedia pages. Also, the Group News Blog created a more extensive archive of Steve's writing here.

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Thank you desmoinesdem. You're always welcome here.

That's how it works with family.

*hugs*

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Breaking: Attorney General Mukasey Collapses

Mukasey Collapses While Delivering Keynote At Federalist Society

Reports are coming in by from people who are still at the annual Federalist Society gathering at the Marriott Wardman Park in Washington, D.C., that U.S. Attorney General Mukasey collapsed while speaking tonight.

Paramedics are reportedly working on him on stage, while a human shield of audience members has been placed in front of him for privacy.

The audience is praying. The early word says this is a stroke, although we emphasize nothing official has been released.

Developing...

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CSA Week 14

CSA Week 14 Haul. October, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Note: This post was delayed one day due to my being ill. --Jesse

So I Know I'm Falling Behind; Sorry Bout That….

(Note: This was typed during the week but only sending it out on Saturday, which tells you what my life is like lately. Again, apologies.)

Okay, so tonight I'm doing a rare thing these days, which is typing while I prep my CSA stuff. I'm about 3 weeks behind in posts; my bad, I admit. Right now I've got something in the oven and round 2 of stove action.

The CSA has been good to me thus far. Right now, I am enjoying/managing an over-abundance of apples. I think that by way of making up for the fact that the berry crop got hosed this year (strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries ruined by heavy rain and cold snaps) and the fact that we didn't get a single frigging ear of corn, we are getting every apple (and every variety of thereof) grown in upstate NY. In huge quantities. I've already done the eating two apples a day thing, putting apples in my salad for work, and even bringing in a huge bunch for a staff meeting that I was assigned to run (with extras; my boss and a few co-workers munched during the meeting and took one for later). I have an issue to a lesser extent with pears, but seem to be keeping on top of them. So, I'll start this belated post by asking you, dear readers, to PLEASE tag up your apple recipes that do NOT involve a pie or cake. I don't need baked goods around anyway, and my oven couldn't suck any harder and still work. Yeah, I know that there are a million variations of apple sauce but how about a reliable, simple, apple butter recipe? Or apple chutney (a recipe for which the folks at my CSA keep teasing me with but keep forgetting to send me)? Apple gratin? Etc? Thanks.

Having said all that, week 14 was a BIGASS CSA week for moi. I got a full fruit, veg, and herb share, the last basil share of the season, and also took a BIG meat and dairy delivery. Grok the gorgeous pix and have a peek.

• 3.5 lbs. of organic, grass-fed, went-to-Harvard cabrito (one whole piece; half-saddle and forequarter all in one huge piece)
• ½ lb. hard tomme cheese
• 1 dozen small eggs from free-range, organic, cageless chickens that went to Harvard with the cabrito
• 2 lb. baby squash of various shapes
• 1 bunch leeks
• 1 pint baby tomatoes
• 2 nectariens
• 3 peaches
• 4 pears
• 7 apples (the thin edge of the wedge of apple inundation)
• 1 bunch lettuce (home to a Special Guest; more below)
• Sage
• Summer Savory
• 4 bigass giant bunches of basil

Special Guest didn't photograph well, so I put him outside via my living room window: There was the cutest little green inchworm on my lettuce. This sounds nuts, but when I saw that little guy on my lettuce I felt…compassion. Like I haven't in a very long time. I felt so terrible that this thing had just wound up on my lettuce, totally oblivious, trucked down from upstate, just trying to eat his dinner.

Mind you, I've squished roaches with gusto in the past. But this little guy just seemed…innocent. And here I was with a whole half-saddle-and-forehaunch of cabrito, certainly a much more sentient and large thing, with a mother that was much more upset to see it go, but somehow that didn't bother me like that little inchworm did.

So out the window he went, to the frayed patch of weeds under my fire escape. Hope he made it OK.

I rather guiltlessly cooked the meat—I figured that this thing had a good life, and it was bred to be eaten. Please, no arguments for vegetarianism, it will only piss me off. More on the recipe in a second.

I made pesto with the basil, as well as some plain ol' basil puree'd with olive oil in order to preserve it better in the freezer. It's too bad it got puree'd; it had lovely flowerheads on it. I dried the sage and summer savory—check out the flowers on the summer savory also.


CSA Week 14 Herbs. October, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.


CSA Week 14 Basil Blossoms. October, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Some of the herbs got used fresh, though. That saddle and forequarter of cabrito had plenty of meat on it, but also plenty of bones. It took my stoutest chef's knife and a hammer to cleave the backbone at about the halfway point so I could pile the meat in my handy stewpot (glad I had both—the local butcher would NOT have been amused if I brought in an outside cut for his saw). I started out by browning each individual piece—two pieces of rib with minichops, the forequarter, and shank—in my favorite secret ingredient (ghee, or clarified butter) after salting and peppering each piece. I removed each piece as it browned to a plate. When that was all done, I simmered down a fond of leeks and carrots (from the CSA) with garlic, salt and pepper, sage, savory, and lavender (all also from the CSA). The meat went back in with some water. Then on went the lid and many, many hours of cooking ensued (and water added as needed) until I could pull the whitened bones (there were a LOT—I got pretty much half of a small kid; think half a beagle but mostly bone) with my tongs. After most of the bones were out I added dried chopped figs and a splash of lemon juice to finish.

Folks, it was AMAZING. That night I had a bowlful with some CSA bread and very good wine. I ate most of the rest during the week. There is one precious container left in the back of my freezer, I think. Truly worth the effort and the having to Napalm my stove (and the burner wells, and under the burner wells, and my floor) afterwards.

Other than that, I really don't have much rant left in me right now. I'm exhausted and have a sink full of dishes, which includes my special little salad box thingie, which I have to wash if I am going to prep my salad.

UPDATE: Whoops, there goes my weekend. No idea when I'm going to get any cooking done this weekend. I have a wine tasting at 5 tonight and I woke up tired after 11 hours of sleep still feeling tired. I can't even fathom cooking tomorrow on Sunday, but I guess I'll have to. That means going out for more onions and garlic. Gotta get my strength up and go…need my stamina back. In the meantime, please keep those recipes coming!

P.S. Yes, I realize that the SAGE has the purple blossoms, but the Basil had flowerheads also in a different shade of green.

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CSA Week 13

CSA Week 13 Haul. September, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

The No Ladybits, No Politics, All Food and Other Random Fun Crap Edition

Okay, folks, let me first say L'Shanah Tovah to one and all—happy 5769 to EVERYONE EVERYWHERE. This new year has already had a rocky start what with work and general agita, but I allegedly have 9 more days to get my shit straight as far as getting written in the Book of Life for a sweet New Year.

At least I broke it in correctly with some new schwag. Traditionally, one wears new clothing of some sort and has "first fruits" of the season with family. As I am not a clothes horse, and more of a geekgrrrl, I wore a new shirt.woot.com T-shirt and took some family pix with my schweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet neeeeeeeeeeew deeeeeeeeeeeegeeeeeeeeeeetaaaaaaaaaal caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamera. You won't be seeing pix from that for another few weeks (week 17 to be exact) but hopefully you will be rewarded with much more clear, sharp pix. The visual chippie-bit-thingie in the old camera died, leading to streaky purple pix and total blackouts. Yes, I tried taking pix, new battery, swapping out memory cards, etc. I had a good five years with that camera and given that my new, twice-as-powerful camera was less than half the cost of the old one originally. My one gripe is that not one single component except for the cable from my old camera fits the new one—as in totally new battery size, different memory card size, the whole nine. Even my bloody case is loose on the new jobbie, but I'm using it anyway because it has better padding than the new case that I got for $5 more as part of an accessory package. I figured I may as well get a fresh case, a lanyard, a neck strap, a new spare battery, and other crap for only $5 more than the cost of a new battery alone. That's another thing—I'm kind of pissed/grateful that the cost of memory has gone down, but aggravated that I now have zero use for the two cards from the OLD dead not-worth-repairing camera.

Oh yeah and I gave my Mom some of the tomato jam that I made and my bro got some pesto and I bought Medjool dates and decent Greek red wine also.

Having said that, let me also apologize for not keeping up with my posts on a more regular basis. As per my last post, life has been coming at me fast, and we are starting to get the thin edge of the wedge RE year-end crush at my day job. I also MUST take time off before year's end (paradoxically) or lose them. So it's a catch-22. I'm using up some days for the Jewish holidays and will probably take a crapload of time off between Xmas and New Year's but I still may not be able to roll all my days into next year (which will be a total fucking moot point if I lose my job but I'm mentally not going there right now). Right now, I am making up from my "forced take-offs" by working until 9ish on the days that I AM in.

Oh yeah, one last thing and I'll say it now and get it out of the way. I am BOYCOTTING the debates. I see post after post on CNN.com and the NY Times site—people saying that they are subscribing to cable TV just so they can watch the debates. Fuck that; I'd sell my blood by the pint in order to keep my cable until November 5th—so that I can watch Gordon Ramsay reruns on my DVR and 24/7 cartoons until it's all the fuck over. It makes me SO SO glad that I DVRd crap like Anthony Bourdain and that Zimmerman guy and the US second season of Kitchen Nightmares (which is being pre-empted this week by the veep debates, which in my book proves there is no G-d) even though this season totally, totally SUCKS and is produced like crap compared to the UK version, which actually uses more than one cameraman, isn't only 30 minutes padded by 30 minutes of commercials and 2-minute replays of the prior 5-minute segment, and the contestants aren't reading from fucking cue cards. Tonight I watched vintage MGM cartoons, old Scooby Doo reruns, some horrid Hanna-Barbera Superfriends third-generation shittily-produced Superman property knockoff, and have "The Biggest Loser: Families" on now. I'm so mentally exhausted that I can't even be bothered to fire up my dying stereo (next big purchase: New receiver) and put on my new Santagold CD. I'm drinking lukewarm rum and water mixed with a little honey because I had to take out my ice cube trays to make room for more stuff in the freezer.

However…that segue ways nicely into the FOOD part of this post! Yay! As per the pic at the top of the post, Lucky Number Week 13 brought the following goodness to my world:

• Eggplant
• Peppers (part of a choice of a mix—peppers and/or squash)
• Apples
• Nectarines
• Peaches
• A large bunch of gorgeous flowering Basil
• Yellow Tomatoes

One of the things I treated myself with was some fresh mozzarella, so that I could make myself a single-serving delicious veggie gratin. This, my friends, is why it's worth it to have a smallish single-serving cast-iron pan. I made mine thusly: Fry down garlic and onion. Add sliced leeks and sauté those down with salt and pepper. Sauté in a sliced green pepper. Let it cook down a bit; add a splash of water if needed. I added some dried oregano also, and a pinch of hot red pepper flakes. I also had a bit of home-made tomato sauce left, so once the veggies were almost cooked I added that in and let it cook while I fired up the broiler. Then I arranged a few torn basil leaves and the mozz cheese on top and put the whole cast iron pan under the broiler. The result looks like this:


CSA Week 13 Gratin. September, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

I ate it with farmhouse multigrain bread from my CSA. Yes it was fantastic.

That particular week, I also broke in a new little lunch-related toy; a cute little sandwich-and-side holder. I'm really having fun with this one, especially on the days I get fresh bread. I stash the sandwich in the lower half, cut up veggies with no dressing for one little holder, and put some fresh fruit in the other one. I love the fact that the whole Fit & Fresh line has built-in washable ice packs—there is NEVER any room in my floor's fridge, and it's usually pretty skank anyway. If I use the ice pack and pack the whole container in my insulated lunch box, it stays cold just fine.

One of my better lunch "re-discoveries" from my childhood that week was tuna and egg salad. The recipe couldn't be simpler: Take two hard-boiled eggs and a standard can of tuna. Mix with a bit of mayo and whatever herbs and seasonings you like. You can also add onion, pickle, however Your Folks made Your Favorite Tuna Salad. Makes 3 or 4 sandwiches (you can stretch the filling by putting more veggies in the sandwich).

Also, my Mom had gotten me a colossal can of canned white chicken meat during one of her forays into Costco, which I would normally never think to buy. I wound up making a big batch of Pesto Chicken Salad and putting that in sandwiches or packing a blob of it with a green salad or eating with pasta until I used it all up also. Both salads were phenomenal. Oh, btw, chicken pesto salad: Take very soft cooked chicken. Mix with pesto until spreadable. Add salt and pepper to taste. This would also make a great canapé' on bread rounds—you could also stuff celery ribs with this, and so on. In fact, I have an in-house wine tasting party in a few weeks and I may just do that.

Otherwise, that's it for that particular week. The next week will be a tad more exciting, I promise, as it was a meat and cheese delivery week.

One final food-related idea for discussion in the comments section: WTF is UP with all of the "X-TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEME! FOOD! FLAVORS! that are being added to normal commercial food items? Case in point: One of my secret weaknesses is Blue Diamond Smokehouse Almonds. Now, for the past zillion years since I was a kid, you could get these at the supermarket right between the Planter's row and the overpriced macadamia nuts. Now, they have seemingly vanished from the shelves. However, they now have BOLD Salt and Pepper almonds and BOLD Salt and Vinegar. I've also seen knockoff brands of BOLD SMOKEHOUSE like JALAPENO SMOKEHOUSE. They are all overseasoned and taste too intense. They stand out too much in a salad, and they're too salty and peppery to include as part of a cheese-board dinner with fruit and bread (another fave guilty pleasure of mine, and the sole reason why I haven't lost all the weight I want to despite my very much increased veg and fruit intake as a percentage of my diet).

I also can't seem to get NORMAL fucking Doritos anymore (something I only buy once a year anyway, and some brands of potato chips are also endangered)—it's all BOLD this or EXTEME that; completely oversaturated with fluorescent flavor powder. Even the humble pickle; unless I go for the kosher brand, it's all BOLD EXCITING FRESH taste and whatnot.

You know, I'm not expecting my snack food to swing in from an open window ala' Tarzan or play retro-punk music for me at 3 AM to wake the neighbors up or go down on me at my desk during my lunch break. I just want my G-ddamned smokehouse almonds. In my salad.

Discuss.

Until next time, BIG HUGS to all and happy healthy eating! Also, a happy, healthy, prosperous New Year for one and all!

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CSA Week 12

CSA Week 12 Haul. September, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Apologies for the Delay; Life Coming at me Fast

Greetings, all. Apologies for the lag—I realize that I am at this point about 2.5 weeks behind on my posts. Please realize that the past few weeks—hell the past few MONTHS—have been hell for me. I've had to work extra-long hours on the days that I work a full day, and do lots of doctor-related crapola on the days when I don't. We're not even going to talk about—nay, THINK about—the state of my apartment and its general cleanliness/clutter levels at this point, so forget I said anything. On top of that, I seem to have picked up a shitty summer cold that I thought was just allergies/sniffles at first, but now seems to be blossoming into a full-blown fever and sinus infection. Can you say "weakened immune system" folks? Having said that, you're in for a treat this week, because on this particular week, I had two very big CSA things happen:

--I took delivery of another huge bunch of basil (4 HUGE mutant attack-of-the-killer-basil bunches) and

--20 pounds (!!!!) of Roma tomatoes, ranging in ripeness levels from "perfect" to "okay, these go in the sauce pot FIRST." Note about these: In a 20-pound box, I only got ONE that was too rotten/disgusting to use, so I count myself pretty lucky. Yes, I hand-sorted them before putting in the fridge to avoid spoiling the whole shipment. Yes, making ROOM in the fridge at this point required a call over to Stephen Hawking himself, in order to re-arrange the laws of physics in my fridge to allow for all this stuff. He couldn't help with the freezer, though—after all he hasn't won a Nobel prize in physics yet. Seeing a psychic to contact Einstein next week, but I digress…Enjoy the box shot and the close-up of these lovelies.


CSA Week 12 Tomatoes. September, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Of course, I also got my usual gigantic quantities of fresh greenery and whatnot. To wit:

• 1 pound local varietal apples (Cortland, I think)
• 1 pound smallish yellow-and-red streaked plums
• 1 pound baby squash (this time I picked the tiniest ones in the box)
• 1 pound green bell peppers
• 1 pound green string beans
• 1 big bunch mutant funky yellow carrots
• 1 pint very VERY small yellow-red grape tomatoes (literally smaller than smallish olives)

So, on the weeks when I get a basil drop (one more left this season), my first order of business is to process the basil. If I didn't, it would a) take up all the space in my produce drawers of my space-challenged fridge and b) turn black and gross anyway. So, that meant more pesto. As this delivery was my second basil delivery, I tried using the food processor instead of the blender to make it this time around.

Folks, night and day. I started this time by adding the garlic and oil FIRST, and then adding some of the basil. I kept trickling in oil and finished with the pine nuts and cheese. The texture was superior to the blender-made version. NOTE: As said in prior posts, I do NOT add salt or pepper to my pesto; I adjust that according to what I'm going to use it in/on.

I also made a smallish jar of Basil Vodka, as I still had herb share vodka from another delivery. To do this, just pack a jar half-full of clean basil leaves. Add vodka to the top. Shake. Let hang out in the fridge. If you're a purist, strain when it's strong enough for you. If you're lazy, just leave it and drink it down and cut with water if it's too basil-y. Basil vodka, water, and a squeeze of lemon on ice is an amazing summer cocktail.

Then there's the matter of the pesto. Other than pasta, what DOES one do with it (other than make craploads of it and freeze it and put it on pasta)? I'm open to ideas. Yes, I know I can put it on cooked fish/chicken/etc. But other than just using it as a sauce what can I do? I thought of making a bruschetta of sorts with it instead of tomatoes. Ideas, please, folks, I have a LOT of it and need to use it down to make room in the freezer (would give to Mom but she grows her own basil and has enough pesto to paint the Houston Astrodome in her freezer).

One thing I did do was take some of the soft, stinky cheese that I got the week before and slice it and eat it on pesto-smeared bread, with just a hint of salt on the pesto before the cheese went on. In fact, I may do that again tonight as I have fresh bread, need a reason to drink more red wine, and haven't eaten yet. Lemme go get my cheese out to warm up…

Anyway, I spent that following Saturday taking care of (most) of the tomatoes (thought I used em all up but found another bag hiding in the back of my fridge—they're still actually in great shape). I made home-made tomato sauce and home-made spicy tomato jam. I froze a lot of the former (but made ziti with a friend with the bulk of it) and jarred up the latter as it has enough sugar where I don't need to go through the whole "canning precautions" thing.

Yes, of course you can have recipes! First up: The sauce:


CSA Week 12 Sauce. September, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Take as many tomatoes as you want. I used a hair over 9 pounds. Oh, that reminds me, I finally caved in and got a kitchen scale. And, now that I see the Amazon link, I realize that I overpaid. Anyway, I love the fact that it fits in between my cookbooks on my very tiny kitchen counter. So, I started with 9 pounds of Romas. And then I committed heresy—I put them in the blender. Yup, no blanching and skinning, no straining, none of that—I am neither Julia Child nor an Italian grandmother. I puréed all the tomatoes and put them into two huge prep bowls that I have. Then I used a garlic press and pressed out about 11 fat cloves of garlic. I heated up my biggest pot and put in about ¼" of olive oil. Once that got hot I VERY quickly added and stirred up the garlic just so that it started to release its flavor—you don't want to burn it, and it burns REALLY quickly. I then poured in some, not all of the tomato puree—this was just to get the garlic to stop cooking. Yes it will splatter. Add the rest of the tomatoes, a sprig or two of basil (I saved time by pureeing the basil with the last batch of tomatoes), a fistful of sugar, and just a pinch of salt. I also added a pinch of dried summer savory and the blossoms off of three small sprigs of dried lavender. Add a really good grind of black pepper, but leave the salt and pepper out.

Now just boil. And boil. And boil. Stir a LOT. This requires attention or it will burn. I reduced mine by a little bit more than half. This does spoil fast so either use it or freeze it.

I also made sweet/savory/spicy tomato jam.


CSA Week 12 Jam. September, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

I adopted this from a recipe in the New York Times, but this is how I did mine:

I started with about 5 pounds of tomatoes, which I cubed up. This went into a heavy pot with 3 ½ cups of sugar, a tablespoon of cumin, about a teaspoon of ground cinnamon, a shy half-teaspoon of ground cloves, a tablespoon of salt, three fat tablespoons of freshly-grated ginger root, about ¾ cups of lime juice, and three seeded jalapenos, cut up. Then I just boiled it and kept stirring, stirring, stirring until it got very thick and reduced. Note that tomatoes have no pectin so this won't "set up" like regular fruit jam does. Put into clean jelly jars and get the tops on as soon as you can. Mine has kept pretty well. Flavor-wise, this is somewhere between very good barbeque sauce and the best ketchup you ever had in your life. I may make some oven—bbq chicken with this someday.

So far, the jam has been amazing on bread with good cheese on it, and just served right on the cheese itself. I have the feeling it would also be very good folded in with cream cheese, or as a side-accompaniment to any kind of pork or fowl.

And now a health update. As always, if discussions regarding Lady Bits puts you off, you can stop reading here.

And now…on to the health issues. First let me state, emphatically, that if you don't think that a lack of universal health care in the US isn't one of the top 3 issues facing the country right now, you're either lucky or stupid or both. So far, my little adventure in uterus ownership has cost over $5,000 on paper, and that's NOT including the cost of the exams or the diagnostic ultrasound that I had to kick this whole party off. Out of pocket, even with some of the very, very best health insurance that I can get, I'm looking so far at around $450 out of pocket. Had I (G-d forbid) had serious complications, you could tack on a few zeros to both of those numbers. As a reference point, Gilly's first open heart surgery and hospital stay cost almost $350K on paper. Yes, you read that right. $350K. And that was a surgery without complications.

Something is very very wrong here.

I never stopped bleeding after my diagnostic D&C. I went from a slow and annoying trickle of reddish sludge right into a period at (surprisingly) the correct and usual time. And it was the worst period I ever had since I was 13. Super-heavy flow, bright red, lots of crunchy bits, and completely debilitating cramps—the stuff that made me go on the Pill the second I got to college so I wouldn't miss class for three days every month—except that I AM on the Pill, and this was scary. My ob-gyn told me to keep an eye on it and theorized that the D&C removed any hormonal buildup that I would normally have. Also, I may have had "minor injury or irritation from the instrumentation." I truly thought I was hemorrhaging this past Wednesday and Thursday. I was given strict instructions to get my ass into the office either Friday morning if it wasn't much improved by them or to the ER on Thursday night if it got worse. And then…after waking up Thursday AM with the usual heavy AM flood..at around 2 PM that day…it just…stopped. No wind-down, no brown-down (ladies, you know what I'm talking about—please explain to the guys reading over your shoulder). After 5 days of ejecting loads of heavy flow every time I stood up or went to the potty, I got about two hours of pink staining and then…nothing. I wore a pad to work Friday, fully expecting an Act 2 of, well, something, but nothing happened. I DID feel incredibly, horribly tired. Yes, I am still taking my iron supplements for a few more days. I don't know if this is coincidental or not, but on that same Thursday (this past one) I also kicked off the 2008 Winter Head Cold Season with a sore throat which made coming into work on Friday feel like I was walking to my own execution—I was SO tired I literally almost fell asleep on the subway to work, and again at my desk. I tried my best to stay up to watch the 11 PM news last night and barely could.

Last night (Friday night) I slept for the first time without one of those fucking Barbie-mattresses between my legs. Did I mention that I am SO OVER pads? HATE EM. I hate having to pay a million bucks for them (good ones cost a fortune, and believe me, you want a GOOD brand not a shitty generic), I hate having to lug them around to work, I hate wearing them, I hate throwing them out and having fucking medical waste in my kitchen garbage. You know how bad menstrual blood STINKS, even with the amazing blue-gel moisture absorber better brands use?

Another positive happenstance brought about by the cessation of this bleeding: According to my ob-gyn, I can now both take a bath and have penetrative carnal relations again, and while I am in no kind of mood for the latter right now (sorry, Silicon Joe) I may do the former later tonight. A really, REALLY hot bath with some of my star anise bath salts may just be the ticket once I'm done cooking my cabrito (hint, hint—wait till next week!!).

So, now, we're in wait-and-see mode. If I HADN'T stopped bleeding, I would have needed an emergency ablation. If I still get funky bleeding over the next few months, we may yet have to do the ablation. I'm still getting all my info together RE how often, if indeed more than once, one can have this done, and what the next steps are if THAT doesn't make a difference.

One other thing is that for years, I have been considering a tubal ligation. I never wanted kids, and want to get off the pill eventually. I've been bugging various ob-gyns for a cut since I was 19. Personally, I don't consider birth control "reliable" unless it's close to 100% effective. I've tried crap like the cervical cap in the past, and it's just not for me. I know that at my age, it's pretty hard to get pregnant without really trying, but still, having been through a D&C once, it's not something I'd like to ever have happen. However, any form of tubal ligation requires at least one, usually two incisions through the body wall, and also requires general anesthesia. One very good alternative that actually has a HIGHER effectiveness rate than physically cutting the tubes is the Essure method. There, you pretty much use scar tissue to permanently block the tubes. It does involve inserting two MRI-safe metallic springs into your tubes, vaginally. That can be done sans any anesthesia; my ob-gyn just gives a muscle relaxant and it takes about 20 minutes total. Then, three months later, they fill your uterus up with a special dye and using a special external scope, literally just make sure that it's a fluid-tight seal between your uterus and tubes. The game plan is that if I DO need an ablation, she'll put the implants in after she does the ablation. The 10-million dollar question is that if I get the Essure and then need an ablation afterwards, ie if I don't need the ablation right away and get the Essure sooner rather than later, can an ablation be done at a later date? So far, the limited information seems to be yes for a thermal ablation (one using hot water) and probably OK for electrical ablation (issue of metallics is the question here). However, as Essure has been around for about 10 years and the first crop of women who got them are getting Lady Bit Issues pre-menopause, more and more data is coming in. If any of you readers (or your partners) have gotten Essure, please contact e and let me know how it's going.

So, friends, that's a wrap. I'm running a fever now; going to go find aspirin and dinner. Be well, eat well, stay mad, and get the Dem message out! Hugs to all!

--Jen

There's more...

CSA Week 11

CSA Week 11 Haul. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Note: This post was delayed roughly 36 hours in going up due to my travel schedule home from Denver. --Jesse

Mucho Food with Pix and More Lady-Plumbing Stuff

Hello darlings! Sorry for the lateness again; life has been coming at me fast lately (as per prior posts) and here, on this gorgeous last-bit-of-summer Saturday evening, I am finally catching up with the CSA post that should have been up earlier this week. Instead of pissing away time playing Age of Conan, I have spent the evening cooking, but more on that next week. My timing may be off for the rest of the season so please be patient.

However, as per my promise last week, I am supplying you-all with Extra Food Pron Photos!

Without further ado, here's the rundown of who's who in the group shot:

• 5 Peaches
• 2 Nectarines
• 1 wedge Raw Milk Blue Cheese
• 1 large but thin Ham Steak (smoked)
• 1 package (about half a pound) Frozen Sliced Beef Liver (grass fed grass finished; cows went to Harvard)
• 1 loaf Farm Bread
• 1 Large Squash (actually two Siamese-twin squashes joined along the long axis)
• 2 pounds Red and Yellow Artisanal Tomatoes
• 2 pounds Apples (Cortlands?)
• 1 head Wild Feral Dark Green Celery (very bushy, leafy, and herbaceous; nothing like the anemic stuff at the supermarket—a whole 'nuther plant in my book)
• 1 pound Green String Beans
• 1 bunch Basil
• 1 bunch Summer Savory
• 1 bunch Dill
• 1 small container Blackberries
• 1 large Cucumber

Being as I am still bleeding, and last week was a rough one, I mostly made salads with what I had and otherwise Minimized Effort.

I did manage to hang up last the Summer Savory to dry (see pic). Love the little purple flowers on it!


CSA Week 11 Summer Savory. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

One Very Good Thing that I did was break out the Le Creuset Grill Pan and pan-grill the giant ham chop (see pic). This became part of a wonderful Scandinavian Salad, based roughly on the cucumber-and-cold-meat based salads of Finland and Scandinavia.


CSA Week 11 Ham. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Basically, I cut off 1/3 of the cooked chop and diced it. The entire large cuke got peeled and cubed. I also cubed one of the smaller apples, and tossed it with a little lemon juice to prevent browning. I added to this a VERY thick grip of dill, chopped up (stems, fronds, and all—a grip of dill about as thick as my index finger at the stem end, which is a lot for a single serving). This got tossed in my Salad Cube Thingie. In the little dressing chute I put a lot of white herb vinegar, some salt and fresh-ground black pepper, and a tiny smidge of olive oil (the ham when cold is very moist and fatty).

The next day I substituted a lot of the celery for the cuke and added some almonds, some of my Mutant Yellow Carrots cut into pennies, and added a smidge of mustard to the vinaigrette. I also took along some dried fruit as a snack; the past week I've been getting 4 PM cravings and energy crashes like nobody's business.

I also indulged in many Guilty Pleasures, as I started to have some serious food cravings last week—I think it's because my body and hormones are all fucked up from the D&C and blood loss from the biopsy.

Guilty Pleasure #1—fresh peach halved; pit removed, pit area filled with home-made Greengage Marmalade (from last week). Eaten as-is.

Guilty Pleasure #2—a nectarine, a few Shiro plums, a few figs, and the last of my peach ice cream (a box hanging out in my fridge all summer, picked at slowly), mixed with milk and sugar in the blender. That was dinner one night.

Less Guilty Pleasure: Asian Slaw: I shredded the two very tiny cabbages from last week (so that they wouldn't turn to mush) and salted them lightly. I then rinsed and added fish sauce, rice wine vinegar, some smoky sesame oil (seasoning grade, not cooking grade), and black pepper. This was VERY salty and yet very satisfying—I've been having these fucked-up salt and protein cravings all week.

Totally Unguilty, Zero-Calorie Pleasure: Stolen shamelessly from Freeze Peach Café, the place where my CSA has its pickups—Campfire Tea. To make: Get some loose Lapsong Souchang tea. Either use a REALLY big tea infuser or make one yourself by putting a goodly amount of loose tea in a coffee filter and tying it up into a sort of dumpling with kitchen string. If you are lucky enough to find decent Lapsong Souchang done up in teabags, use about 6 per quart or so. Put in a pitcher or jar of cold water and let hang out in your fridge at very least overnight. If you put this up in the AM before going to work, it'll be ready by the time you get home. Squeeze out the giant teabag if you made your own (or the commercial teabags) into the pitcher. You'll have a very flavorful, smoky iced tea, hence the name. Very good with a squeeze of lemon and/or a shot of whiskey in it. I like mine as-is but both variations are good also.

Final Guilty Pleasure from this Delivery: Take the ends of all the luxury cheeses that you have left that you want to use before cutting into any new cheese. Put on a cutting board with thin slices of fresh bread cubed up, figs from last week that are about to self-destruct, some blackberries, some mini tomatoes (also threatening to rebel/riot in the fridge), and a blob of greengage marmalade on the side. If you feel really decadent, also put a blob/shotglass of home-made pesto out as well, for putting on the bread. Add a small pile of rock salt on one corner of the board if you need it for the pesto. Make assorted little bites washed down with good red wine and cold water until you're full and sated.

Yes, I know that I've put on a tad of my weight back, but at this point I'm just happy to be motivated to eat right again. Yes, I'm still taking my vitamins and especially my iron supplement. Which leads me to…

Female Plumbing Update of the Week: I'm going to jump ahead to this week's fresh news.

I was bleeding as of this past Thursday, which meant that officially, I may Have Complications. It acted like it was going to stop, and then would start up again—fresh, watery red streaks all day (think thin red water—like watercolors diluted or when you cut your finger and run it under water) followed by a bunch of flow first thing in the AM when I would get up (makes sense if it was pooling in the uterus all night). I called my ob-gyn and she said that this may be normal and that I may be putting up with this shit until my next period, whenever my body gets around to that. She also said to sit tight until my pathology report. My follow-up is next Thursday.

So yesterday I bailed from work a tad early (I was the only one left in the office anyway) and when I got out of the subway to my destination (a schwank restaurant that makes killer cocktails—I was dying for one at that point) my cell phone started to beep and I saw that I had missed a call and had a voicemail.

It was my ob-gyn, G-d bless her. She called to say that I can relax this weekend; my path reports and biopsies all came back negative for cancer (thank G-d!!!). The actual physical analysis (ie when they take the uterine evacuate, aka the hideous bloody mess that they scraped out of me and actually LOOK at it carefully) seemed to indicate that I had an endometrial polyp, which can as a category bleed like a motherfucker even when tiny. They are also pretty much invisible to an ultrasound, because unless the uterus is filled with fluid, they tend to collapse against the uterine wall—think seaweed underwater (waving around all feathery) versus dry on the shore (collapsed and small). As such, a D&C can pass right over it—argh. My doc is hopeful that we got all of it out; however, if not, there DOES exist a procedure to find the little fuckers now that we have a culprit—basically the uterus is filled with water before the hysteroscopy, and then when the doc sees them floating up they can be easily targeted and cut off.

In the meantime, I've moved (in the past 48 hours) from the constant annoying "red water whenever I wipe myself" smudging to "nasty brown water with bits in it" smudging. I still can't get away with wearing just a panty liner, but I DID switch to thin-form regular long pads as opposed to the post-surgical weight diaper-feeling things that I was stuck with before.

I also still can't have any vaginally penetrative sex for at least another week, and this includes with myself/Silicon Joe, which is kind of a pain. I also can't go swimming or take a bath (thank goodness showers are OK), which sucks because I REALLY REALLY wanted to hit Coney Island this week, and had to turn down and invite for a trip to a beach house as well. This may be extended for a longer period, depending upon the status of my cervix—if I haven't fully closed up from the surgical dilation, it's at least another week. Fuck. Hating this.

Want my body back, kthxbye.

And I am still goddamned cramping—I was told that at this point it's probably from the biopsy site from my fibroids (I still have one protruding into the uterus but that doesn't seem to be the cause of the bleeding—except for now being as a piece got cut out of it).

Still, I am SO FUCKING GLAD that I got a GOOD Ob-Gyn. Again, my old one just said that my bleeding was "normal" and indeed if it is just that damn polyp that was doing it, we NEVER would have found it just from the ultrasound. I'd still be clueless and she would still be pushing an IUD on me as opposed to figuring out what was causing it.

Anyway, need to go Napalm my kitchen after an all-day cooking session (hint…tomato delivery…hint hint).

Be well and thank you everyone once again for your good wishes, recipes, ideas, and stories!

--Jen

There's more...

CSA Week 10

CSA Week 10 Haul. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Veggies with a side of Gynecology

Hello all! Thanks for your patience this week! As per the headline and prior updates, this week's posting was delayed due to Female Plumbing Stuff. However, by way of make-up, I happen to have EXTRA pictures this week (of the FOOD, people, NOT the gross medical stuff). I will address the former first, and then keep the latter until after we get the food business out of the way.

I'm sitting here now, on a gorgeous Friday afternoon. Half of me is telling myself to take a shower and go outside, but the part of me that has a Demerol headache that would fell a wooly mammoth and the bits of me that feel like they've been forcibly worked over with a series of sharp metal objects (because they were) are telling me to sit here and work on my post. Drinking coffee, which I KNOW is doing jack shit for my headache, but as I had none yesterday I'm really jonesing. Drinking Liberally Queens is having a get-together tonight at the Bohemian Beer Garden in Astoria, and part of me wants to go. However, the idea of being in a place with rock-concert-loud background noise, rush-hour-at-Grand-Central crowds, and talking about politics—while drinking beer—just sounds like a prescription for exhaustion-related complications right now.

OTOH I may just take that shower, shave (so that I don't feel like a fucking Yeti) and go take a nice walk to the park. I could bring one of my two laptops along, but I have been remiss in keeping up my Norton. I have a three-seat license and theoretically CAN download and install the remaining two seats on my two laptops, but that would be a massive bitchfest of updating Windows on both machines (since I got my fullsized tower and am not taking any writing courses right now I have turned on neither deck in months), uninstalling Norton (its own nightmare scenario) and then getting each new download to properly install and update. Overall, I predict at least 3 hours of "sitting around with my thumb up my ass" time for EACH deck, and whilst that may seem like an ideal activity for someone who's not exactly about to get up and run the Boston Marathon just about now, I really think I'd rather do any number of other unpleasant chores (which I am also ignoring just now btw) than do that. So if I do go out for fresh air, I'll just grab a book and my magazines.

Okay, on to the food! First of all, about the photos. Some weeks I know they are a little blurry—my camera is prone to heat failure, which I sometimes get a LOT of—the focus goes south and the whole screen gets purple and streaky. My apartment gets very hot in my absence and sometimes the tech just doesn't want to play along. Yes I'm replacing it eventually but not now. In the meantime, rest assured that I'm taking the best pix that I can with what I have.

Okay, so here's the main shot of the haulage, which was most massive. In addition to getting a fruit, veg, and herb share, the first of my four basil deliveries came. That meant four HUGE bunches of basil.


CSA Week 10 Basil. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

The rundown of the haulage:

• 4 Big Bunches Basil
• 2 lb. Shiro Plums (like greengages)
• 6 Nectarines
• 5 Peaches
• 2 lb. of local Apples
• 1 Bunch Dill
• 1 Bunch Funky Mutant Carrots
• 1 Bunch Thinnish Leeks
• 1 Pint Tiny Little Grape Tomato Thingies
• 3 Green Bell Peppers (very VERY fresh—vine leaves were still crisp)

So, to state the obvious—yes, I made pesto, that very night. Here's the recipe I used, courtesy of Diana's Kitchen:

• 2 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1/2 cup Olive oil
• 3 tablespoons pine nuts or walnuts
• 3 garlic cloves, finely minced

I realize that the instructions said something about when to add the oil and everything, but I pretty much just eyeballed everything, used a LOT more garlic, and used the olive oil to keep everything going in my blender. I would start by adding some of the basil and all of the oil and garlic, let that paste up, and add the rest of the basil little by little and add a bit more oil to keep things loose. Put in the nuts last, with any more oil needed. NOTE that this recipe calls for NO salt or pepper—the pesto will taste a little flat and that's OK; you should be adding the salt and pepper as per whatever recipe you are going to use it for. I made two huge batches of this stuff, while listening to what's considered one of the best recordings of the DreiGroschen Opera.

That night, I made some amazing pasta with basil and had it just as-is, with some amazing burrata cheese on the side, and some fresh figs (no pic, sorry). For lunch the next day I made up a little caprese salad of the baby tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, and a little oil. As a side I had the rest of the basil pasta, cold, and some fresh fruit.


CSA Week 10 Mini Tomatos. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

The dill went into the freezer for reincarnation as chicken soup.

I continue to just eat up my stuff as fresh salads and fritattas. Right now, I'm going to sauté down some veggies from last week with some of my home-made recaito from last week and make a sort of "New World Fried Rice." The apples are still hanging out OK in the fridge but I have to eat them to make room for other stuff.


CSA Week 10 Japanese plums. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

For your viewing pleasure, also grok these additional food pix. I really like how lush the basil is. The plums are also ultra-fresh, as were the very ripe tomatoes. The carrots are starting to grow on me; they are yellow, sweet, and really, really funky looking.


CSA Week 10 Carrots. August, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

Most of the past two weeks, however, has been consumed by the gyn issues (yes, folks, that does it for the food part of this post, so if you want to, you can stop reading now). Here's how all that has gone down so far:

Before I say anything else, there is one thing I want to get out of the way, RIGHT away. I have heard a lot of anti-choicers—mostly men—rant about how some women "use abortion as a form of birth control" and seem to think that a D&C is like getting your hair done; something you absentmindedly just squeeze in between (I guess) between having unprotected sex and shoplifting Lee Press On Nails or something. To them I say:

FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUU!

Yeah, scheduling at least 2 weeks in advance (unless it's a potential medical emergency—I got lucky; someone cancelled theirs), no food or water for 18 hours before the procedure, getting up at the crack of dawn, getting the shit drugged out of you, having everything hurt like hell ANYWAY, the bleeding afterwards, having to wear those fucking sanitary pads for two weeks because nothing is supposed to be going in there for at least 2 weeks afterwards (wonder how that works out for abused women who can't refuse sex with their partners?), intense, can't move cramping, and feeling like shit for a few days afterwards. REAL fun. REAL walk in the fucking park, man. Don't need cable TV when you have that kind of fun, no siree.

I'm just so, so grateful that at least I don't live in a state where medical procedures need to be reported to the State, and that I live within easy access of a huge selection of healthcare providers.

I am also really, really, REALLY annoyed with self-described "liberals" who still think that there is room for argument that "well, in theory, if we consider a fetus a potential life, why NOT allow some limitations on abortion?" I actually had to listen to this, while drugged out on Demerol and hurting like a mofo on the way back from my not-an-abortion-D&C from the person dispatched to PICK ME UP after the procedure. This man (of course) insists that he's a staunch feminist, and thinks that while "abortion as a debate has been made redundant by technology, at least in the US", there is still "a real argument to be made that a woman should be required to carry a healthy pregnancy to term." He then went on to say that "I really don't have a problem with balancing a woman's freedom of movement/inconvenience with a potential life's—I think there's real room for debate there."

I snapped back at him that he's just in love with the idea of being able to bring a woman's world to a complete, grinding halt with his dick, and that while yes, being able to automatically disqualify most of half the population from the job pool may make his life easier (he's out of work), that doesn't make it right. I am really really getting fed up with people saying "I'm a liberal, BUT…X." That's like me saying I'm a vegetarian, which as those of you who know me, I am NOT.

It's the same kind of tautological sophistry that you can do with any subject. "Well, if vegetarians are truly defined as people who do NOT eat meat, what about people who don't eat meat at every meal? Are they not vegetarian for the duration of that meal? What about micro-organisms that live on vegetables? By cooking said vegetables or even eating them raw, are they not as guilty of taking an animal life as someone who eats a cow? Why can't someone identify as a vegetarian on certain issues? At what point do we define an animal? Why can't I be labeled a vegetarian then?"

It's the same kind of "I know you are but what am I?" schoolyard logic fuck that people who claim to be Dems but are McCain supporters because Hillary isn't on the ticket espouse. Long story short: If they don't feel like their petty academic hairsplitting brainfarts are validated, then to hell with everyone else.

Now, I'm picking an absurd example, but this is what talking to this guy is like. He insists that "it doesn't matter if abortion is outlawed, people can still get them safely" and that "that's not the issue." Also, he rejects out of hand that men shouldn't have a say in the abortion debate 'because just because I'm not a minority doesn't mean I can't have a concern in the outcome of policies aimed at them, for example."

Now, of course, I don't have the strength to argue ad-nauseum with a guy who insists on trying to win even stupid arguments. Also, I can't help but notice that if you Google "pro-choice arguments" all you get is a huge list of bought-for crap by pro-lifers.

So, if anyone wants to let loose with some good ones in the comments, go right ahead.

And I've already informed my ob-gyn that I am taking my own damn self home after any further procedures, period. Keep me there all fucking day if you want but I am NOT relying on anyone else again (they say it's office policy but fuck it—I don't want Mom along for the ride and I certainly am not dealing with this guy again)

Interesting side note—friend in question was a women's study major in college, and given his on-again off-again employment sitch has been the "babysitter/pickup person" for a LOT of his female friends with plumbing issues. It's the one thing about his personality that really, really REALLY bothers me DEEPLY. He totally denies that he's got some kind of a control wish going on—and this is a guy who despite his major, came out with the great line "but wait…tubal ligation prevents ovulation, right?"

Yeah. He also admits that yes, crime in the US dropped since Roe v. Wade, "but still wonders if that's relevant today."

Anyway, I'm getting aggravated just typing this, so I'll jump to the summary: Too much Demerol, not enough painkiller, needed a full extra hour of recovery before I could tell whether my eyes were opened or closed (had this funky hallucination going on—when I opened my eyes I saw the lights, too bright—when I closed them I STILL SAW THE ROOM but normally illuminated. It's like my brain freeze-framed on pause for the visual input. I still responded to verbal questions, and complained when the pain got really bad, but FLAT FREEZE on the visuals), was a beached whale on the table for almost 90 minutes. Normal breathing and heart rate, but NOT THERE. Then, all of a sudden, I felt better all at once. Sat up, yelled for the nurse, who brought me a juice box of apple juice and a Motrin. I asked her to get the bottled water out of my bag and I did—I drank almost a quart of water during recovery and then I just wanted out. I had my tough cab ride home, went upstairs, ate lunch, and slept for 5 hours. Been babysitting the Demerol headache since then (although it's dying down now).

Still, my new ObGyn is FANTASTIC and I love her. We spoke today and we're waiting for the biopsy results—she did a D&C, a full scoping, and spot biopsies. Thank G-d it seems that the one protrusion into the uterus—and it's a smallish one—is probably a fibroid and not Adenomyosis. My ultrasounds seem to confirm this, as did the visual, but she took a biopsy anyway.

Next step is waiting a few months and seeing if the D&C solves the bleeding issue—in my Mom's case, it did, when she was only a few years older than me, and she has very severe fibroids. In the meantime, we're keeping our fingers crossed RE the biopsy and making sure that everything else is kosher. I see her again in two weeks, once we have the pathology report back, and we can discuss next steps. If the D&C doesn't help the bleeding, the next step is probably Endometrial Ablation. My doc uses the hot water version. I have the feeling that I will ultimately wind up doing this. In one third of all cases, it stops your period entirely. I would so SO love that and a tubal ligation—just get the reins back on my girly bits and getting them doing what I want.

Under the category of "support from family and friends," Mom is NOT at all down with most of what's been going on. It's very hard. We have a strained relationship anyway, and this is NOT helping. She pays a shitload of lip service to being OK with me not having kids, while stringently not wanting to deal with the fact that this involves contraception and sex. She can't really openly just come out and say "you're a fucking freak if you hate kids enough not to want them, and a hideous slut if you have sex otherwise," being as my brother is gay (and she was the biggest homophobe until he came out) and can't give the appearance of playing favorites (OTOH I still think that she thinks my bro is in it for the clothing and doesn't actually get fucked in the ass and suck dick—even though him and his BF have a bound copy of the BUTT magazine collection on their coffee table, which does NOT get put away when she's over). Still, I'll never forget that when she was still working, a rather large co-worker of hers had a pregnancy go undiscovered (I still can't believe that happens, but I guess it does) until it was way too late to abort and wound up having a baby by a guy who can at best be described as a looser. My Mom's response to all this was "you know, Jen, if that ever happened to you, I'd be OK with it and help with the kid" (her unfortunate co-worker's family flipped out). Trying to explain to her that I would kill myself before having a baby—and I used those exact words—were a simple, curt, "no you wouldn't." Her attitude towards all that bleeding I did? "I dealt with it, my mother dealt with it, YOU deal with it."

On top of that you get fuckwits like my OLD ob-gyn. She got my ultrasound results also. So, what does she do? Instead of calling me on my cell—I have tried to get her office to stop using my work number for 5 years—she LEAVES A MESSAGE on my office voicemail: "Hi, Jen, this is Doc A., got your ultrasound results; the fibroids look stable, I don't think that's what's causing your bleeding, let's wait and see—feel free to call me back."

Um, lady, been "waiting and seeing" for about 3 years now and it's getting worse not better.

Anyway, I seriously need to do my dishes and take a shower. I'll end this with a food note—I actually did make that New World Fried Rice. Here's what I did:

I cut up one leek, both of my remaining green bell peppers, two smallish carrots from a few weeks ago, and one of the summer squashes (last one from old batch). I sweated the carrots, leek, and peppers down with salt and pepper, and then added about 2 Tablespoons of my home-made recaito (the last I had unfrozen in a baggie). I continued to let it all sweat down. When it got mushy I added a tad of water and the squash. I let the squash simmer, covered, and then tasted for seasoning. I still had some green hot sauce from my Authentic Navajo Green Chili, so I added some of that in. Once the squash was tender I added one more splash of water and about 2 cups of cooked, cold dryish brown Basmati rice. I stirred and folded until the rice absorbed all the liquid. I had some of this with some smoked cheese from a few weeks ago, and tomorrow I may just heat some more up and put a fried egg on it and call it breakfast. It was wonderful.

Now I'm gonna go take a shower. I swear, I hate pads. I feel disgusting. Now I know why babies cry when they're wet. Now, they are a damn sight better now than the ones that I had to use back in school (I started very young)—I remember hideous things with belts, then ones with glue on the bottom to stick to your panties—but they were both essentially cotton with gauze on them. Of course, Mom had issues with the idea of a youngish girl using tampons (which I started using in high school anyway).

Now they have gone totally high-tech, which I can appreciate. Not only are they longer (if you have a deep pelvis you need something long for coverage, especially at night), but the glue is better and you can get ones with flaps that wrap around the bottom of your panties so that they don't slip or leak. Also, I gotta say, that blue gel shit they put in diapers and pads is amazing—it really DOES keep you feeling drier. Still—and this is another entire post—the confusion of options is astonishing. What really IS the difference between, let's say, Overnight, Extra Heavy Overnight, and Maximum Protection? I stood there in the drug store, thinking, well, it's SURGERY for chrissakes, better go with the biggest option available. Still, despite the packaging and a very cutesy little graph-like code on the box, I never did figure out if Maximum Protection was actually better than Extra Heavy Overnight. I figured I'd better have the best coverage for night-time. So I got two different kinds. So far they seem to be working out. It's kind of gross knowing that they're hanging out in my garbage can.

Either way using ANY of em is still pretty icky. Still, I'm glad that I don't have to use those fucking cotton wad things anymore.

Now I'm going to stop typing, before I gross everyone out, and go take my vitamins while I remember. More next week!

Please keep the recipes, good vibes, advice, and rants coming.

Hugs,

--Jen

There's more...

Some Consideration, Please?

This Is NOT Jesse “Doc” Wendel Pictured Above...But That Damn Sure Looks Like His Cane...

It was a little over a month ago when I got the call from my brother. He was at the hospital emergency room after badly—really, really badly turning his ankle in a pick-up basketball game on East 21st Street. He'd for an instant folded the foot so far inward that his instep managed to almost kiss his inner ankle. The sucker had now blown up with swelling, near-radiant heat and of course, pain and immobility. He just knew he'd broken something. But, it turns out he didn't—although the doctor told him he'd have been better off if he had. Grade 3 sprain high and low on the ankle, and a clutter of bone chips discovered via X-Ray and MRIs. Soft cast for two-plus weeks, but no surgery. Just lots and lots of physical therapy and the doc said, “You'll be laying off the basketball from here on out with those chips floating around—unless you want surgery.” Being forty-plus like me, little brother weighed living without basketball—which he only played maybe three times a year these days—or going through the surgery and the longer rehab behind it.

B-ball was ditched, and the therapy and healing was begun.

But...it was going to be crutches for the immediate time he could put NO support on the foot, and after that for a few weeks, he would require a cane for extra support once the swelling had subsided a bit. The crutches were one thing in getting about. They signaled injury. The cane that came later however, was a much different story.

The doctor wrote him up for the standard, hospital-issue-grey number. Metal-reinforced, with the matte black rubber end.

I got a call from him one night near the time he normally leaves work, asking me to meet him there. So I did, figuring he wanted to talk, and I was right. But my assumption about the talk's subject was, shall we say...unexpected.

We sat down and he talked about how getting around on the cane had altered his perceptions of things. That cane signaled not “injury” to folks, but “infirmed”, and worse yet, “being unable to handle his business” to random people he'd been running across in recent days. Folks who would walk right by a fully-healthy him or not bother him at all he felt were looking at him differently. The unspoken, usual personal space he commanded without so much as a blink was now being challenged because he was moving slower and with less ease. People's patience was shorter as they moved around him with audible sighs and grunts of frustration. “How dare he impede their way and their day?” And then, there were the ne'er do wells who wouldn't think for a second about messing with the fully-able six-foot-three him, folks who now seemed a little more snarly and ready to pounce. He lives in a rough neighborhood, and getting home late a night—never a big deal before, was now an issue for him.

He wanted me to walk him home from the bus stop.

He called the hospital-issued cane a “vic stick”—meaning that to those inclined to do harm and take liberties, that cane screamed “victim” to them. Ouch. So, he posed a question as we traveled. Through my years in TV and theatre, I've accumulated a trove of odd props and things. He remembered I had a couple of really nice canes—in particular, a polished, tapered, cherry-wood one with a horse's head carved out of the curl at the top. “I need something that looks less...you know, like I have a problem.” So, the next day, I brought him the cherry-wood jobbie and he was ecstatic. “They'll think twice about being stupid, now.”, he said.

“You don't know,” he continued. “I'm only gonna be using this thing for a couple a' months. I wonder how people who have to use a cane all the time deal with the fucked-up way people treat 'em. 'Cause people ARE fucked up when you can't get around well. Believe that shit.”

Fast forward a couple of weeks to Netroots Nation. A thing I noticed was that there were a number of folks in attendance who were disabled to varying degrees, whether they were in wheelchairs, or on scooters, or using canes or walkers. You may have read Maggie's tale of getting about with me helping out a bit in her piece, “The Chair Whisperer”. Austin, for all of it's wonderfulness—and it is a wonderful city—is going through all manner of urban infra-and-outer-structural work. A lot of it on the city's streets, which made it a challenge for disabled folks navigating the downtown section without assistance. Curb-cuts gone wild. Ending in drops, or steep, newly-tarred and graveled mini-berms screaming “thou shalt not pass”. Steep inclines—some temporary, and others always there, with not enough care taken as to who might find themselves facing them. Maggie and I managed it, but it was challenging at moments, to say the least. There were no ill words from folks—at least none that I heard—or to me, any evident negativity or stupidness directed our way, as I piloted, balanced and scouted while Maggie rolled proud. But still there was that uncaring insofar as the plotting and implementation of the work around town. Every pedestrian wasn't going to be Bob-fucking-Beamon in 1968 and be able to long-jump a chasm of loose gravel and rocky terrain to cross the damned street.

Yet, there it was. Roadblocks of un-feeling, and a lack of consideration that probably keeps a lot of folks who the world is better for when they can get out among us easily, hemmed up in their homes where we'd never get to actually meet them. Bluntly, that blows.

And what happened to Jesse while we were down there blew like a hurricane roaring up from Galveston Bay.

He uses a cane. But not a so-called “vic stick” like my brother got, nor a carved, polished one that powerful men of the gilded age would thrash a “lesser” with should one offend them. Jesse's cane is a long, knurled, natural wonder—fallen from some huge tree, its edges softened by time and usage, and resembling not a little bit, the staff Charlton Heston's Moses used in “The Ten Commandments”. It ain't a vanity piece, as years of hard physical activity, injuries and the vagaries of the human body have taken their toll on Doc. Lugging a heavy computer bag around Austin, and to and from an airport, along with secondary luggage with a knee screaming “Hi, there's no cartilage here anymore—pay no attention to that grinding bone-on-bone feel / sound you're experiencing now buddy.”, is a bitch-and-a-half. Let me say right here that he and I don't share a nervous system, but I know Goddamned well he was in a world of pain. When you see a guy squinting hard and suddenly with every left-footfall after a certain point in a series of days, or stopping at the bottom of a staircase he'll have to ascend as you hear a barely audible “Fuck.”, that person is hurting. It ain't pretty.

And you might think folks'd be if not considerate, at least not totally fucking stupid when they come across someone who's clearly in more difficulty than most folks. Maybe they wouldn't say patently dumb-ass things, or put the challenged person in the unenviable position of having to defend themselves verbally.

But my God...they do.

It's me and Jesse riding down in the elevator alone for a few floors. Been a long, hard day. From the 26th floor to about the 18th, we're alone—me against the back wall, him bracing himself on his cane, just looking forward. Elevator stops and a few people get on. Young and old. But there's a woman, no identifying tag / lanyard, and clearly not a Netroots-er—in maybe her mid-to-late twenties who gets on with a friend, and as we begin to to move down the floors to the lobby, there's the usual murmuring amongst the various groups. She however, looks at Jesse, looks at his cane, looks at Jesse again, and then with not a shred of shame or a moment's consideration, points at the cane and asks as bluntly as you please...

“Hey...what's that for?”

It was hot in Austin over those days. And plenty warm in that elevator. But son-of-a-bitch if the temperature in that sucker didn't drop fifty fucking degrees when she let fly with that bit of unfeeling stupid. All murmuring stopped. You could almost hear the subtle sound of seven people's lower lips “thwupping” against their chins as their jaws dropped open. I slumped back in the cab, silently screaming at this woman, “What the fuck-what the fuck-what the fuck-what the fucking-fuckity-fuck were you thinking?” Dead silence in the elevator. I don't think Jesse even blinked. Or breathed. He said, in a flat monotone...

“It helps me to walk.”

No yelling. No snarl. Just a flat-ass reply designed to hang in the air as simple words that would point out to all present how the ones that preceded them were so mind-numbingly dumb.

No one else said a mumbling word as the floors ticked by. It was uncomfortable to say the least. The temperature continued to seem to drop as we descended. I looked down at the floor, thinking how the seconds were stretching into what felt like hours and how if we took any longer, Jesse would eventually show this dolt another capacity of a gnurled, wooden cane—namely, its amazing knock-her-watery-seven-ounces-of-brain-clear-out-her-right-earhole feature. But thankfully, it never got to that. The elevator “dinged”, and we were in the lobby—still no one speaking as we went our separate ways, until we were all about forty feet away. I could see stupid-head talking to her friend now, probably asking “Wha' hoppen?”, but I was alongside Jesse twenty feet away and frankly, I didn't know what to say. He sighed. Long and loud as he walked now.

“I cannot believe how fucking stupid that was. I'm just...man!”

It was okay to share now, so I chimed in about how the elevator temperature plunged to “Ice Station Zebra” levels. But Jesse was just getting warmed up. He was shaking his head and his cane was “thoomping” noticeably louder than normal with the woman's offense driving the stabs to the floor that much harder.

“If I'd been as rude to her, and said something really fucked-up about her appearance, do you know...the hell I would have caught? Do you know the hell I would have caught? Jesus! But as far as she's concerned, what she did was her just being inquisitive. Do people even think?”

No. We all too often don't.

These events, my brother's eye-opening injury, getting around with Maggie, and the dunder-headed diss on Jesse all happened within a couple of weeks of each other. And their coming so close together made me think about something that I, as a relatively fully able-bodied person in spite of my trying to be sensitive to people have tended to overlook—namely the way the greater society, those of us able to easily get from one place to another pain-and-disability free make this world an immensely harder place for our challenged fellow citizens. We are too often not patient, and treat these folks like annoying, inanimate speed bumps in our path between here and the places we want to get to. These are people—not potholes or barricades to be growled at and brushed past crudely. And they are NOT hyper-potential marks to lick our chops over and kick in the teeth because they may be less able to defend themselves. Anyone is one step away from being less-abled. Our last night in Austin, I spoke to one of my favorite commenters Preznitgivmeturkee and he told me of a single casual misstep on a ladder causing him to blow out his ACL and MCL in about...oh a second and a half. Depending on your age and physical condition when something like that goes down, you could rebound fully, but you could also find yourself in constant pain, and your mobility lessened because of the physical limitations of the damage. Steps can be a nightmare. High curbs and inclines too. You may need a brace, or a cane—or perhaps a brace and a cane. And if you're under-insured as many Americans are...well, you get my point. The person you chuckle at as slow-moving, or pick on because their self-defense might be hampered could be you with one bad step.

We're also unthinking as a nation in how we plan, renew and re-build our cities. We tear up streets and sidewalks, and callously build anew without thinking about the breadth of who will be traveling said streets and using said buildings and facilities. There was a time when disabled Americans either stayed exclusively at home because of the stigma of not being classically-able was overwhelming or got around in the shadows so as to not draw undue attention. And those well-off and well-connected less-able like FDR had the rare opportunity to cow the powers-that-be into never citing their disability publicly, which helped them in the short run, but damaged their fellow challenged citizens by denying the reality that one could serve the public, or live an open public life while disabled. These days, people with disabilities don't shut themselves away, thank God. They work alongside us in the greater population, traveling, contributing and enriching us all. But we don't make that any easier when we throw literal roadblocks before them via unthinking infrastructure work and after-the-horse-is-out-of-the-barn, slap-dash retro-fitting of structures and thoroughfares. It's stupidly selfish and short-siighted. And yeah...any way you slice it—flat-out discriminatory. It needs to stop.

Lastly, we need to take a minute to put ourselves in the other person's shoes when it comes to simple courtesy and compassion. When you see someone who may even only appear to be disabled, a moment's thought should be enough to figure out whether it's kosher or not to ask odd questions about their wheelchair, or scooter, crutches or cane. If it looks like it might be one of those things, saying dopey shit like “Hey, can you do a wheelie in that?” (I've heard this actually said), or “Shit. I've been walkin' all day. I could use one of those.” (Said to a scooter-user), goofing about “A Christmas Carol's” Tiny Tim, or yes, asking idiotic questions about a device someone is using to support themselves is pretty much fucking with people's dignity. Would you ask a person with vitiligo callous questions about their complexion? Or a woman with a large facial scar about whether she gets dates with that on her face? “Just askin' lady.” No. You wouldn't. Because that kind of shit is not just stupid, but kind of evil when you think about it. And asking people to answer for physical infirmities they have no control over is to put them in an absurdly untenable position, as well as an unfairly defensive one.

But still...people do it. I see 'em do it. I saw 'em do it. And Jesse felt 'em do it. The experience of which just kicks my seeing it happen dead in the ass.

So I ask you the readers of this to have some consideration...please. And as I think the vast majority of you are pretty sensitive to the feelings of your fellow man and are already considering of folks, it wouldn't hurt to expand that circle of consideration beyond yourselves to people you see being less so. Don't prompt confrontations...but do remind those who overlook things that we're all people here, with equal value on this planet. If you see a curb-cut the city has chopped up beyond recognition through street repairs, a call to said city's agencies in charge of that with a well-worded complaint and request to fix it is helping someone out—trust me. If you spot someone singling out a disabled person to be picked on or potentially “jacked”, call for help proactively. And if the situation is already in progress, do what you can to defuse it by calling out or even yelling “Five-O's comin'!”—anything you can to stop the attack.

And lastly, teach your kids, and yes—even your ill-informed adult friends who have no tact—that there are out of bounds questions and statements one should not direct willy-nilly towards disabled people. Jesse half-joked about a thing called “Gimp Etiquette”—where you help a disabled person as much as they request or need, not as much as you deem necessary. You don't touch their cane or wheelchair without permission. When those things are in use, or really, even nearby, they're sort of extensions of their bodies. It's personal space. You ask if a person needs assistance, and if they say “yes”, ask what they want you to do. This etiquette extends to what you may ask them about their issue. If it's not about assistance and is snarky or a pun, or just on the level of “Duh? What's that?”, it's probably an offensive statement—end of discussion. Better to go home and crack wise as you pass by mirrors in the house if you must say something stupid to someone.

Because it beats the holy hell out of finding out “up close and personal” about the amazing knock-the-watery-seven-ounces-of-brain-clear-out-your-right-earhole feature of a briskly swung cane. Which can happen to a person when they think it's okay to insult a disabled person in a crowded elevator—and if said elevator is maybe just a little less crowded.

Take my word for it.

There's more...