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Toothy grin

At the risk of being one of those folks who does nothing but fling trivia about his life out at the screen like a monkey with poo, I went to…

At the risk of being one of those folks who does nothing but fling trivia about his life out at the screen like a monkey with poo, I went to the dentist yesterday. All’s well and all that. I have a very old filling (around on #13 or 14), dating back to when I was about 6 or so — one of the set of cavities I got at that age, all in one visit, the only cavities I’ve ever gotten. Anyway, it has a hairline crack in it, and the dentist is just waiting for it to further come apart so that it can be replaced.

Which is fine, I guess. I still wonder how it is that we let dental folks take IMPLEMENTS OF TORTURE and scrape our teeth and gums with them. Not that it was actually tortuous, though it’s rarely comfortable, but it’s still one of the most physical and bloody medical sorts of things that we go through on a regular basis any more.

Boobies, eh?

The “Bazongas Booster” may be down off the front page for another year, but you can read all the thrills of Marn’s Jog for the Jugs right here. You go,…

The “Bazongas Booster” may be down off the front page for another year, but you can read all the thrills of Marn’s Jog for the Jugs right here. You go, girl!

A hundred miles, a hundred miles …

Quack….

Quack. ducky.png

Shuffling like a zombie through the day

I don’t know if it’s general malaise (I’ve picked up the cough that’s been going around with Katherine and then with Margie), sleep deprivation (I can recall waking up coughing…

I don’t know if it’s general malaise (I’ve picked up the cough that’s been going around with Katherine and then with Margie), sleep deprivation (I can recall waking up coughing a few times last night, though never for long), or a Nyquil hangover, but …

  • I woke up 20 minutes late, having not set my alarm last night.
  • I started the coffee in the break room without ensuring the pot was smack-dab under the hole, leading to coffee all over the place.
  • I almost overflowed my coffee mug under the decanter, even while I watched it.
  • I feel — not surprisingly — very muzzy-headed.

And caffeine (see above) does not seem to be helping. Bleah.

Ayes and nose

Quoth Marn: Before we go any further, here’s what I want to say about skin cancer. *Insert sound of soapbox scraping across stage here*. Eighty per cent of the damage…

Quoth Marn:

Before we go any further, here’s what I want to say about skin cancer. *Insert sound of soapbox scraping across stage here*. Eighty per cent of the damage that causes skin cancer happens before you’re 19. So if you’re a zygote or parent of a zygote and you ever consider going outside or sending your child outside without sunscreen and a hat, then I want you to pause and think about this image:

I’ll leave the image for those who care to click through.

Margie is a lot more diligent about slathering the sunscreen on Kitten than I am, mostly because I hate using the stuff myself, but I need to step up to that.

And, all this summer (and, I anticipate, from here on out), I wear a hat when I go out for my lunchtime walks. Virtuous on so many levels …

Anyway, food for thought as summer winds down.

Quack!

In theory, the Five Hundred Miles to Nowhere project awards ducks for every 10% of the goal, or 50 miles. My own Walk to Nowhere project isn’t really aiming at…

In theory, the Five Hundred Miles to Nowhere project awards ducks for every 10% of the goal, or 50 miles. My own Walk to Nowhere project isn’t really aiming at 500 miles, only 160 (but, see below), which would make 10% only 16 miles. Nonetheless, I want to take on the 50 mile threshold for ducks.

So … quack!

Yes, I have actually walked 50 miles (according to my pedometer) since I started this a couple of weeks ago. Indeed, my average miles per day is 4.36, rather than the 1.37 miles per day needed to meet my goal. And if I were walking 4.67 per day, I’d actually hit 500 by the end of the year.

That almost smells like a challenge …

Not for the faint of heart

If there is an issue more contentious, more emotional, more liable to cause a wrench to the gut, a surge of anger, a shout of anguish, than Iraq, gay marriage,…

If there is an issue more contentious, more emotional, more liable to cause a wrench to the gut, a surge of anger, a shout of anguish, than Iraq, gay marriage, and gun control combined, it’s abortion.

It’s not a topic I discuss here often, just because it’s a topic I struggle with on a number of levels, being both highly sympathetic to those who oppose abortion because they believe it’s the taking of human life (and the lengths to which such a conviction must drive them), and to those who oppose abortion restrictions because of the intrusion of the law and society into something so painfully personal.

That said, as this linked article shows, regardless of what has or has not been legally restricted, the legal and social threats over abortion and abortion providers has led to circumstances where a woman who needs one, who should be able to get one — even, I suspect, in the eyes of most abortion opponents — had to go through this ordeal.

Not for the faint of heart.

This isn’t an easy topic, because regardless of what we end up doing as a society about abortion, a horrible amount of pain and suffering is going to result.

(via Respectful of Otters)

Weighty moment

Since I committed last weekend to a number of pairs of size 36 pants, I immediately began to get paranoid about my weight. I’ve eased up on the strict Geek…

Since I committed last weekend to a number of pairs of size 36 pants, I immediately began to get paranoid about my weight. I’ve eased up on the strict Geek Diet, of recording all the calories I eat. I’ve snacked. I’ve nibbled.

So, for the first time in a couple of months, I weighed myself this morning. How high would I have ballooned? How hard were the Diet Gods laughing regarding my new pants?

Continue reading “Weighty moment”

Jog for the Jugs

Marn is once again raising money for breast cancer research at the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure (though with her twisted knee problems, this year it…

marn-jog.jpgMarn is once again raising money for breast cancer research at the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure (though with her twisted knee problems, this year it might be more like a Limp for the Cure — or, as she puts it, a Jog for the Jugs).

Anyway, good cause, good person, good thing to donate to. And you get all rights and privileges to post that faboo Bazongas button up on your page, so what are you waiting for?

Walking the walk

As we were walking on the course on Sunday, I noticed that Doyce had a pedometer. I wore one of those for a month or so, as I got started…

pedometer.jpgAs we were walking on the course on Sunday, I noticed that Doyce had a pedometer.

I wore one of those for a month or so, as I got started on my diet. I think I eventually stopped wearing it because I had a sense of how many steps I was taking a day, but the number fluctuated a lot, and eventually I knew how many calories I was burning from walking, and that was that.

“Yeah, Jackie got it for me for our anniversary. It’s letting me keep track of my Five Hundred Miles to Nowhere.”

I’ll be damned.

It makes perfect sense.

Marn started it, at least for me, complete with its own project site, but it was something I associated solely with, well, you know … exercise. Like, “I did a mile and a half on the jogging machine at the gym.” Or, “I ran a couple miles around the track this morning.” Like, Real, Scientific, Measured Movement of the sort that Ahnold (or Marn) would Officially Recognize (and even award a rubber ducky for).

But a pedometer — ah, it’s fiendishly clever! And, being someone who has no time, something I can do. Because I do walk. A lot. And I can measure it, with that same pedometer. I walk here. I walk there. I walk my feet off everywhere. As Dr Seuss might say.

I can walk five hundred miles. And I can walk five hundred more. Just to be the man who … uh, I digress. Though havering with Margie sounds fun.

At any rate, if all I need to do is just, y’know, walk (as opposed to Use Expensive Gym Equipment, or Jog on Cushy Blue Foamy Track Material), then, damn, I’m there.

It’s late to shoot for 500 miles this year. But yesterday was the 250th day of the year. I started wearing a pedometer yesterday (too late to harvest the golf games, but in time for the corn maze), meaning that as of yesterday, we have 366 – 250 = 116 days left (32%) in 2004. 500/366 = 1.37 miles/day * 116 = 160 miles (rounding up) to walk.

I can do that. It will earn me at least three rubber duckies. ducky.png And that’s nothing to quack at.

(And, lest I get smug, Marn is currently at 660 miles out of her thousand mile goal. And Doyce is at 406 out of 500. So I have a lot of catching up to do … Though, according to the pedometer, I’ve clocked 6.5 miles already.)

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Get … away … from … my … eyes!

Maybe it’s because I’ve had glasses since I was in the second grade, but I’m very protective about my eyes. I don’t want to put contacts in them. I don’t…

Maybe it’s because I’ve had glasses since I was in the second grade, but I’m very protective about my eyes. I don’t want to put contacts in them. I don’t want folks carving ’em up with frickin’ lasers. And, frankly, it would take a lot more myopia than I have for me to have artificial lenses installed. Yeesh.

Which reminds me — I still need to get my new presecription.

36

So Margie bought me some Size 36s, and of the three pair, two actually fit. Comfortably. Ye gods. Of course, one problem with wearing pants that fit is that the…

So Margie bought me some Size 36s, and of the three pair, two actually fit. Comfortably. Ye gods.

Of course, one problem with wearing pants that fit is that the pockets get remarkably small/tight. Which makes carrying around a wallet and keys and a PDA difficult when you don’t keep any of the above in your back pockets.

I know — tears of sympathy are welling up in your eyes at my hardship here.

I don’t know that I’m ready to announce that 36 is the Target Clothing Size for Holiday Purchases (for one thing, I haven’t lost any weight, so I don’t know where the waist change has gone), but I am willing to tentatively revel in having dropped three pants sizes since March.

My eyes are dim …

Went to the optometrist yesterday for my 2-year-and-change check-up. My intermediate vision has not been what I’d like it to be, and my glasses have been getting kind of scuffed…

Went to the optometrist yesterday for my 2-year-and-change check-up. My intermediate vision has not been what I’d like it to be, and my glasses have been getting kind of scuffed up, so it was time.

I’ve actually been wearing the glasses from my 1998 check-up; the ones I got with my 2002 check-up never felt right, even after several months of wearing, so I changed back to these when we went to the UK and never switched back.

The difference, evidently, is in the prism that is calculated in it. The eye exam I took indicated I have both horizontal and vertical prism, but the glasses that “feel right” have just horizontal prism in them, so that’s what they’ve prescribed for me.

They’ve also prescribed …

… I can’t say it …

Continue reading “My eyes are dim …”

Waisting away

I haven’t weighed myself for a couple of weeks, but Margie and Jackie seem determined to get me into size 36 pants. Which, in fact, based on two pair that…

I haven’t weighed myself for a couple of weeks, but Margie and Jackie seem determined to get me into size 36 pants. Which, in fact, based on two pair that Margie got me (at Jackie’s egging on) I seem to fit. Which, in turn, is … disturbing. I guess it’s a fear of success thing — I’m tickled pink I’m now fitting into 38s, but 40s are now feeling too loose and baggy on me, which worries me that if I can fit into 36s, my 38s will soon no longer fit. And where will it end?!

I know, it’s kind of goofy to be worried about my waistline shrinking. Part of it is, I think, I’m afraid that if I dip too far down, I’ll end up rebounding again, which will feel like a real defeat. Whereas, if I stabilize, even if it’s above where I want to be, it gives me something to strive for, and, well, stability (almost always a good thing in my book).

Anyway, I guess this means I’d better weigh myself sometime soon. And consider what size pants to ask for come Christmas time.

Weekend update

Another one of those Lost Weekends, where everything sort of blurs together in a flurry of activity, only ending when you realize, Holy Moley, it’s Monday! Friday Another Margie Gras…

Another one of those Lost Weekends, where everything sort of blurs together in a flurry of activity, only ending when you realize, Holy Moley, it’s Monday!

Friday
Another Margie Gras for the summer, this time focusing on blender drinks (both juice and ice cream based). Tasty, calorie-laden fun, complete with something wonderful called a “Blue Swan” (with local mods). The Testerfolk, Stan, Randy, and Dave & Lori were all there, and we had the normal level of raucusitude, aided by further screenings of Invader Zim.

I was actually exhausted from a long week, and crashed on the rocking chair, missing the second half of the evening. Dave & Lori, and Randy, headed home, with the Testerfolk and Stan crashing (as planned, for a Margie Gras) at our place …

Saturday
Katherine was at her sleepover still (hence the scheduling of Margie Gras), so we were able to have a relatively leisurely Saturday morning. I slept till 10, and came down to find Doyce making Lumpley Pancakes for the group, made with Sharp’s cider. A bit thick (and thus difficult to cook), but yummy.

We then somehow magically transitioned to Margie and Jackie going off for pedi/manicures, while Stan, Doyce, Justin and I went golfing at Centennial Golf Course, a/k/a Littleton Golf Course. (It was formally known as Centennial, but now seems to be renamed Littleton, probably because we now have a city of Centennial and the course is in Littleton. Whatever.)

For not having been out on the course since May or so, I was actually pretty pleased by my game. Only lost three balls, two to water. All parts of my game were firing on at least three of four cylinders, with no persistent flaws. Drives were decently lengthed and straight; chips were pretty much where I wanted; putts weren’t too bad. Ended up with a 49 on the back 9 (which, before I go capering about, I have to remember is actually a par 32), but still only ended up losing net to Doyce by 1 stroke. Woo-hoo.

Headed back home. Margie had picked up an exhausted Katherine (“sleepover” evidently meaning that one early on decides that the time for “sleep” is “over”), but Jackie had taken her while Margie worked on game prep for Sunday. Stan and I picked up Katherine and headed back to our house; Jackie followed a while later, both Justin and Doyce needing their own early sleep times.

Ate very yummy home-made pizza, then watched some Olympics coverage. Mercifully, from what I saw, the previous Olympics framing device (turning the event into a mini-series about four or five pre-judged-noteworthy athletes) has been abandoned, though there’s still a lot more personalization and pumping-up-the-drama (as if the competition needed it) than feels necessary. And while the emphasis was mostly on what the American team — excuse me, “Team USA” — was doing, or at most the teams that they were facing, we did get some other events with non-American winners covered.

By the way, congratulations to Puerto Rico on showing up this year’s “Dream Team” NBA professionals from the US in basketball. Which having been said, why the hell is Puerto Rico fielding its own Olympic team? Last time I checked, that’s a US commonwealth …

Sunday
Off to church, lippety-clippety. I may be becoming the Official Photographer for the parish. Last week, Bonnie had asked me to video-tape her sermon. Okay, fine. Someone saw me doing that, and asked if I could video-tape the guest preacher this week (a missionary who’s usually in Tunisia; she wanted to send it on to his mom in San Diego). And while I was getting the camera set up, someone handed me their little Instamatic and asked if I could take some shots of the baptism during the service …

Not that I mind, to be sure.

Back home again, and we-all (Stan still being with us) had smoothies for breakfast (having a plenitude of ice cream and fruit juice and frozen fruit left from Friday night). Then Margie still needed prep time for the game, so I took Katherine to the swimming pool for an hour. She’s doing great with jumping in from the side (holding her noodle), and I’m glad we have some swimming classes starting up for her at the end of the month (even if it’s, well, coming to the end of swimming season).

I got some sun on my legs golfing on Saturday, to my surprise (it occurs to me that I’ve been golfing in long pants these past several outings, largely to avoid just that). The swimming session added to the overall toasting for the weekend, which was a bit surprising — I’ve been in the pool several times this year without a problem, but this time seemed to have been just what I needed to get lightly crisped. The discomfort from the results of my not sunscreening my bod is more than matched by the discomfort of Margie looking smugly reproving over the same.

Back home, and a long ViD session (running until after 9). But in that time we both pursued some personal action in the caravan, fought an air elemental, the mage who summoned it, and an animated mind-controlling statue. Since Margie was on GM duty, I was more in host/babysitter mode, which was actually fine (and makes me appreciate all the more how Margie does that while I’m GMing).

Quick clean-up and got to bed before ten, which was quite nice, and slept well.

And … well, Holy Moley, it’s Monday. Ah, well.

Sick call

One of the thorniest domestic issues I have is with health care. American health care is truly amazing — for those who can afford it, are insured against its costs,…

One of the thorniest domestic issues I have is with health care. American health care is truly amazing — for those who can afford it, are insured against its costs, etc.

Canada’s system is often touted as an intelligent alternative to the American partially-socialized system. But it has problems, too,

A study recently released by the Fraser Institute in Vancouver, B.C., compared industrialized countries in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) that strive to provide universal health-care access. Among those countries, Canada spends most on its system while ranking among the lowest in such indicators as access to physicians, quality of medical equipment and key health outcomes.
One of the major reasons for this discrepancy is that, unlike other countries in the study that outperformed Canada — such as Sweden, Japan, Australia and France — Canada outlaws most private health care. If the government says it provides a medical service, it’s illegal for a Canadian citizen to pay for and get the service privately.
At the same time, to try to keep spending down, the government chips away at the number and variety of covered services. According to another Fraser Institute survey, this means that on average a patient must wait in line 17.7 weeks for hospital treatment.
In 1999, Dr. Richard F. Davies described how delays affected Ontario heart patients scheduled for coronary artery bypass graft (CABG) surgery. In a single year, just for this one operation, 71 Ontario patients died before surgery, “121 were removed from the list permanently because they had become medically unfit for surgery” and 44 left the province to have their CABG surgery elsewhere, often in the U.S.
In other words, 192 people either died or were too sick to have surgery before they worked their way to the front of the waiting line. Yet, the Ontario population of about 12 million is only 4 percent of the population of the United States.
In an article in the journal Health Affairs, Robert Blendon describes an international survey of hospital administrators in Australia, New Zealand, Great Britain, the U.S. and Canada. When asked for the average waiting time for biopsy of a possible breast cancer in a 50-year-old woman, 21 percent of administrators of Canadian hospitals said more than three weeks; only 1 percent of American hospital administrators gave the same answer.
Fifty percent of the Canadian hospital administrators said the average waiting time for a 65-year-old man who requires a routine hip replacement was more than six months; in contrast, not one American hospital administrator reported waiting periods that long. Eighty-six percent of American hospital administrators said the average waiting time was shorter than three weeks; only 3 percent of Canadian hospital administrators said their patients have this brief a wait.
Canadian physicians’ frustration with their inability to provide quality and timely care is resulting in a brain drain. A doctor shortage looms as the nation falls 500 doctors a year short of the 2,500 new physicians it needs, according to Sally C. Pipes, president of the San Francisco-based Pacific Research Institute.

Now, certainly, it’s fine to say that Person X, presenting need Y, gets treatment in C time in Canada, U time in the US. One thing that doesn’t take into account is that it assumes that if X is in the US, they have insurance coverage to pay for the treatment. Short of being independently wealthy, that’s a very big caveat.

Not that I think that necessarily balances the results (it’s impossible to say, to be sure). The primary question, though, in any health care debate, is what level of need are you prepared to have the individual pay for, vs. society pay for? And that’s not an abstract question — every dollar that goes into a unviersal health-care system has to be allocated from taxpayers through their representatives (assuming a democratic society). It goes without saying that society is not willing to pay enough to cover everything from brain cancer surgery to botox treatments. But it’s also not just a matter of what treatments, but the quality of the treatments, and the lag time to get to them (whether discretionary or not).

Simply throwing money at the problem is a simplistic way of looking at the problem. Because you’ll never throw enough money at it to allow every person to get every treatment with the most expensive drugs and devices and talent possible. Anything short of that, though, is going to incur suffering, possibly death.

Who makes those decisions, both in the micro (politicians and plan adminsitrators) and in the macro (taxpayers)? And are politicians and government boards and bureaucrats really any better at it or more compassionate than, say, HMO review boards and corporate suits?

And does the insertion of the taxpayers, voting (indirectly) on what to fund more compassionate and just and fair than, say, employers deciding what insurance to offer to their employees (or, taking it a step further back, consumers deciding whether it’s worth going to someplace other than Wal-Mart that charges them more in order to provide decent insurance)?

Another direction to tackle the problem from is, if we assume we cannot pay for everything we want, is how we spend our dollars the most efficiently. In general, competition (and capitalism) seems to be more efficient — more empirical in determining how to maximize effort for cost — than setting a government policy and then defining how to meet its mandates. Survival of the fittest solutions. The profit motive (personal or corporate), while jarring in considering something like medical care, does seem to motivate some people to do things better and/or less-expensively.

But competition and capitalism, while working pretty well (again, in the macro), leaves a lot of folks in the dust (the micro). That’s fine when we’re talking about, say, automobiles or stereo systems, but when we’re talking about the health of people, both individually and societally, that’s a cost I don’t think we can afford. At least, not beyond some point.

But then that gets us back on the other end, trying to manage things like the Soviets did with their economy, and doubtless with the same short- and long-term results.

It seems to me that any solution (and I don’t pretend that there’s only one, or even an obviousl one) is going to be mixed. There’s going to have to be some government/societal oversight to make sure that some level of care is available to all, regardless of their means to pay, but there needs to be some sort of private profit built into the system, to keep some sort of efficiency, and innovation.

And there has to be something that keeps folks from “abusing” the system — which is another way of saying, again, that we societally recognize that not everyone can get everything, and so some folks are not going to get some things they want, unless they’re willing (and, to be sure, able) to pay for it themselves. And that might mean some pain and suffering, yes, though different folks might disagree on what pain and suffering deserves public support and what doesn’t. One person’s frivolous face-lift is another person’s necessary facial reconstruction. One person’s only chance at a possible cure is another person’s boondoggle that will cost what would pay for three other folks to live a better a life.

There’s never going to be a perfect system. The American system certainly isn’t. Nor is Britain’s NHS, or Canada’s system, either, in their own ways. What level of imperfection we’re willing to tolerate (or sacrifice ourselves/societally to correct) is, perhaps, the bottom line, the definition of what society itself means.

Which is probably way too long and confused a rant for a Tuesday morning. Time for lunch.

Working for scales

Well, the last couple of weeks have been tumultuous, diet-wise. I mean, coming off of KOA we had the Fourth of July weekend, complete with a mini-Margie Gras. And then…

Well, the last couple of weeks have been tumultuous, diet-wise. I mean, coming off of KOA we had the Fourth of July weekend, complete with a mini-Margie Gras. And then I got sick. And this past weekend was probably overly-indulgent, and I’ve been doing a piss-poor job tracking my intake.

So it was with some trepidation I got on the scales this morning.

Continue reading “Working for scales”

Back to normalish

Margie’s largely over the crud, save for awful-sounding coughing jags. Kitten is back up to snuff, as am I. No vacations, no holidays, just regular meetings and school and work…

Margie’s largely over the crud, save for awful-sounding coughing jags. Kitten is back up to snuff, as am I. No vacations, no holidays, just regular meetings and school and work weeks ….

Looks like it’s back to normal for us. Which, all things considered, is a good thing.

Snurk-snurfle

Katherine has been down with some bug for four or five days now. She has plenty of energy (or even an excess) a goodly part of the time, but she’ll…

Katherine has been down with some bug for four or five days now. She has plenty of energy (or even an excess) a goodly part of the time, but she’ll suddenly wind down and vegetate for a while, and her crying/lamenting/wailing/gnashing-of-teeth are on a hair trigger. Plus she wakes up with a voice that sounds like Stephen Hawkings in the middle of the night.

Margie has been up and down with various things, and is back on a down cycle the last couple of days. She still went into the office today for a meeting (“I’m the only one from my department in this week”) but she kind of shuffled off like death warmed over.

So I’m home today, taking care of them both. So far, no bug for me … yet. Hopefully it will hold off until everyone else is better.

Weight, weight, don’t tell me …

Dropped down to 205 as of yesterday. Which may or may not be a crack through the plateau I’d been on for most of a month. I will celebrate loudly…

Dropped down to 205 as of yesterday. Which may or may not be a crack through the plateau I’d been on for most of a month. I will celebrate loudly if I break 200 (though, alas, most such celebrations as come to mind involve food).

Also, I’ve retired all my size 42 pants, and the 40s are feeling pretty baggy. The 38s are fitting well, which is (to my mind) fairly miraculous. Dare I imagine a 36? Gads!