Jayne Says

Skunked

I returned home late Wednesday night, exhausted from my conference and a five hour drive from the coast. The Pilot was off piloting and the dogs were happy to see me (and to finally have their dinner.) I fed them and crawled into bed.

A few hours later, crazed barking dogs awakened me. I stumbled downstairs and yelled at them to come inside. Rotor pranced up to me, grinning, with her tail at its full proud mast. The following conversation ensued:

Jayne: Good God, what is that stench?!

Rotor: Heh heh heh.

J: A SKUNK sprayed you, didn't it?

R: Yeah, and it was the coolest thing EVER!

J: Get in the tub!

R: Sure!

J: You know this is Daddy's favorite vegetable juice - it's organic and everything, and not cheap!

R: Whatever!

J: Gross, now you smell like tomato juice and the tub looks like a crime scene. Now for the coconut shampoo.

R: This is all so worth it!

J: Okay, stop gloating and get out of here.

My dog is never happier than when she is filthy and reeking. She will run, slo-mo, to any rotting carcass on the beach and roll in it, as I scream " N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!" I swear, time slows down during these moments. Being sprayed by a skunk, after a good chase, was doggie heaven for Rotor.

The house still smelled like skunk, so I sprayed it with some Cinnamon Toast perfume from Demeter (it smells just like the name mmmmm.)

But the overpowering miasma of skunk, tomato juice, coconut and cinnamon -- Satan trying his hand at Thai cooking -- continued to assault my senses for hours.

And the recurring thought that I couldn't wait to blog this contributed in no small part to my sleeplessness. I am such a loser.

Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored recently posted about a parenting rite of passage of children doing a certain thing in the bathtub.

Being skunked must be a similar rite of passage for dog owners. Lucky me.

Quick Hello

I'm away at a conference. And a presenter, natch. Me + PowerPoint = Geeeeeeeeenius. Two of my favorite gal pals are here. They are sharp, hilarious, gorgeous women who love to drink, swear and generally misbehave. We all had presentations today and put on our grown up, professional lawyer facades in our dark suits, while giggling and passing notes like teenagers during the breaks. I wish they didn't live so far away. But we are all "experts" in a small, highly specialized area of law so we travel in the same circles. Girlfriends are the best. I return late tomorrow night.

Adolf and Ann, Sitting in a Tree . . .

Can you guess which of the following quotes are from Adolf Hitler, and which are from mein favorite evil bitch, Ann Coulter? You can take the Quiz and check your answers at the illuminating Hitler and Coulter Quiz. I correctly guessed 12 out of 14.

"Liberals have a preternatural gift for striking a position on the side of treason...Whenever the nation is under attack, from within or without, liberals side with the enemy."

"We must study this vile liberal technique of emptying garbage pails full of the vilest slanders and defamations from hundreds and hundreds of sources at once, suddenly and as if by magic, on the clean garments of honorable men, if we are fully to appreciate the entire menace represented by these scoundrels of the press."

"Taking these consequences into account, it is no accident that it is always primarily the liberal who tries and succeeds in planting such mortally dangerous modes of thought in our people."

"Liberals are always wrapping their comically irrelevant charges in a haze of lies..."

"Hence it is that at the present time the liberal is the great agitator for the complete destruction of America. Whenever we read of attacks against America taking place in any part of the world the liberal is always the instigator."

"It was a crushing defeat for the liberals, not because liberals were necessarily Communists, though many were, but because they had been morally blind to Communism...Liberal elites defended traitors. In response to the Soviet threat, the Democrats consistently counseled defeat, supplication, and retreat."

"These scum manufacture more than three quarters of the so-called 'public opinion,'...To give an accurate description of this process and depict it in all its falsehood and improbability, one would have to write volumes."

"The immediate consequence of the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia was a wholesale abandonment of morals. Laws against divorce were loosened, promiscuity was encouraged, and marriage was demeaned as a "bourgeois institution." Providing a battle cry for the sexual anarchists, Vladimir Lenin had famously said that the act of sex should "be as simple and unimportant as drinking a glass of water." American liberals have used their hegemonic control of...newspapers to create a charming world in which women apparently cannot bear to keep their shirts on."

"As long as millions of the bourgeoisie still piously worship their liberal democratic press every morning, it very ill becomes these gentlemen to make jokes about the stupidity of the 'comrade' who, in the last analysis, only swallows down the same garbage, though in a different form. In both cases the manufacturer is one and the same liberal."

"The foremost connoisseurs of this truth regarding the possibilities in the use of falsehood and slander have always been the liberals..."

"The truth is another hateful "bourgeois institution."...liberals always seem to be enthusiastically defending liars. Lying is their most cherished human activity."

"Here the liberal's procedure is as follows: He approaches the worker, simulates pity with his fate, or even indignation at his lot of misery and poverty, thus gaining his confidence...With infinite shrewdness he fans the need for social justice, somehow slumbering in every American man, into hatred against those who have been better favored by fortune..."

"Liberals always get a lot of credit for suffering, while never actually being made to suffer."

"It is this press, above all, which wages a positively fanatical and slanderous struggle, tearing down everything which can be regarded as a support of national independence, cultural elevation, and the economic independence of the nation."

Home @#%!* Home

Jayne: So, what are you up to today?

The Pilot: I'm about to fire up the machine.

J: What machine, pray tell?

T: The home remodeling machine.

(Blink. Blank stare.)

T: Me.

J: Oh. Have fun with that. I'll help by blogging about it.

We bought this huge, rambling "compound" last year. It is perfect for us because of the semi-rural location, (while being just 20 minutes from a "cool" town) the stunning views, the acreage for the dogs, barn, a detached office for me and the . . . er, "potential."

Basically, we live in a fairly large two-story yurt. Or circus tent. Or double-layer chocolate cake. It has 15 sides (pentadecagon, thank you very much) with huge windows and decking on the upper level. And this place was the shit in the seventies, I am sure. Blue shag carpet, dark paneling, huge gold tub (that's a post for another day.)

Now we are remodeling. T is plumbing the upstairs right now for the new island and putting in a gas line for where the new stove is going to go. Yes, he also wires everything himself, hangs drywall, puts in floors. Reads up on it and is good to go. I keep my distance and listen for screaming and cursing (beyond the usual that is).

The cabinets and new appliances have arrived and the bamboo flooring is here (all in the garage). Then T is going to learn how to pour concrete counter tops. I am scared. We are knocking down a big part of the partition separating the kitchen and living area from the master bedroom (to be replaced by retracting shoji screens one day.)

Here are some "before" and "during" pictures. (Of course, all pictures posted on Jayne Says are mere thumbnails which you may enlarge for your viewing pleasure.) Here is the stack of our DIY kitchen books on the (soon to be demolished) bar.

Note the lovely yellow linoleum we uncovered under the blue carpet (those are some tiles we were considering.) And the "linoleum" in the kitchen proper. Ah, but look closer . . . it's actually faux linoleum carpet (we discovered this after living there a few weeks and walking around barefoot, that was quite the surprise!) And the dark "cowboy" cabinets. Perfect.

I love before and after pictures; I'm a sucker for makeovers in any guise. I hope we have some decent "after" pictures to share some time this decade. Until then, the machine is fired up and not yet broken down.

Mom and Pop can Kiss my Ass

I often go out of my way and forsake my personal convenience and financial situation to support local, independent businesses. Often, I am gratified by this choice. I feel connected to my community, that I am doing my part to keep strip malls and giant corporations out of our quaint town and, most importantly, I get to feel morally self-righteous and superior.

But every once in a while, Amazon.com is just easier and cheaper and they don't have to special order every title, Lowe's has what I need at a better price than the local "we don't sell drywall but look at our 2 aisles of silk flowers" hardware store, and then there's this:

I stopped by the local pharmacy on Saturday afternoon after lunch to pick up my prescription (for some pills that need to start on Sunday, ahem) and the pharmacy was closed. Sunday, too.

Did they see me in church? Hell, no. But they might see me in Rite-Aid, which is right across the street . . .

Light, Tunnel, etc. etc.

Guess who's back, back again. Jaynie's back, tell a friend . . .

On May 30, I promised to post pictures of The Pilot's birthday outing "tomorrow." Today's May 31st, isn't it? The past few weeks have been some of the roughest I have ever experienced, physically and emotionally. I radically changed my diet around the end of May, eliminating refined sugar, simple carbohydrates, alcohol, dairy, eggs, wheat and other gluten-containing grains. No pizza, beer, pasta, wine, cheese, cookies, cakes, ice cream, sweetened sodas or juices, bagels, bread, etc.

People who tell you that cleaning out your diet will immediately invite rainbows and unicorns into your life are big fat liars.

When I was a girl, my family called me the "Sweet Tooth Queen." I craved sugar and candy and usually managed to have some every day. It turns out I am sugar sensitive, and even though I didn't consume that much of it, sugar is a drug and it is ubiquitous. And our bodies break down simple carbohydrates and alcohol into sugars pretty quickly.

As with quitting any drug, there are withdrawal symptoms. Mine were pretty dramatic. Extreme fatigue, depression, anxiety, skin eruptions, even some vomiting. Yay, me.

But after two weeks of misery, coupled with a healthy diet--cooked grains like quinoa ("keen-wa"), buckwheat, millet and brown rice, organic fruits and lots of green leafy veggies, lentils, hummus, rice cakes and crackers, olive oil, lemon and sea salt for seasoning, some free-range organic chicken and wild cold water fish and vitamin and probiotic supplements, green tea and lots and lots of filtered water--I actually feel . . . good.

And (big shocker lesson in cause and effect) I have lost quite a few pounds in just these two weeks. My tummy is flat, my clothes are fitting great and I've pretty sure I've dropped a clothing size. And, more importantly, the sugar cravings, mood swings and fatigue have stopped.

I really believe food is medicine, we are what we eat, etc. I am more than a little obsessed about this topic the more I read about it.

And, finally, before this blog resumes its regularly scheduled programming of social, spiritual and personal writings, I will deliver the overdue promised pictures.

The Pilot and I looked for the semi-secret swimming hole in a nearby river that we read about in a book (about semi-secret swimming holes in California rivers) but this swimming hole was really a raging rapid death trap (a bit early in the season, yet, it appears) so we skipped it and went canoeing in a nearby lake instead.

We found a cute little island on the lake and dubbed it "Birthday Island."

And of course, here is T in his birthday suit . . .

This lake is lovely, we have seen deer, eagles, woodpeckers and my favorite, (wink to Shephard) Blue Herons like this one.

Our new favorite activity is paddling around in these kayaks T recently acquired. This is fabulous, scenic, low-impact exercise, similar to riding a recumbant bike, without the traffic. However, T does not appreciate it so much when I announce "Ramming Speed!" as I head towards him . . .

Just So You Know

If you are listed on my sidebar, I subscribe to your blog's feed through Bloglines, which if you haven't heard of this is a handy way to read blogs. In Bloglines, all the blogs you subscribe to are listed on the left, and it tells you if there are any new posts. You click on the new posts and they load in the right side frame.

I read every one of your posts this way, and only click on the blog itself to comment. I've been a sucky commenter lately. But I just wanted to let you know I read it all and take it all with me -- your funny stories, your pictures, your questions, your recipes, your turns of phrase, your victories, your disappointments, your cat pictures, all of it.

So even if I'm at a low point, I still read all your blogs a few times a week. And I love them, even when I don't have much or any feedback.

AND I still add a few now and then ~ like the lovely timethief, a kindred, please say hello to this new blogger! Remember how it was when you were just starting out, how lonely . . . go on, say hello!

Okay, that's all I can manage. On the health front, still feeling exhausted. My doctor is calling this "fatigue syndrome" for now and isn't very reassuring when she rattles off potential causes: chronic fatigue syndrome (may be viral), Lyme disease, MS, depression, bi-polar disorder, Lupus. Or maybe sleep apnea (not getting restorative sleep - I am a light sleeper).

I like my theory better (allergies, maybe a bit of depression, I'm prone to it). But they're doing all kinds of blood testing and I'm going to an allergist soon.

Y'all know I'm happiest fighting injustice. I need my energy back to do this! Luckily, none of us took Bush seriously about the anti-gay marriage Constitutional amendment. (Yeah, because that's what our country is all about, limiting civil rights and equality and increasing discrimination . . . )

Summary: you are loved, say hello to timethief, I am sick and tired, but determined to be well.

Allergies are Sexy!

I love gazing into red, weepy, squinting eyes.

And the sound of a loud sneeze gets me hot.

And oooh, streaming mucous, yummy. How about when a person always has wads of Kleenex stuffed in her pockets; how alluring are those intriguing bulges?

A wheezing, asthmatic whisper and cough in my ear, mmmmm.

Best of all? Being able to write on a person's skin, using nothing so sharp as the back of a post earring.

This condition is called dermatographia (derma=skin, graph=write) and I've had it for as long as I've had skin. The kids in elementary school used to play tic tac toe on my arms. But I'm not bitter.

I developed asthma around age 13; it was serious in my 20's but is under control now. I still have to carry an inhaler everywhere I go, just in case.

And blowing my nose is practically as common as breathing for me.

I think my allergies are the root cause of my fatigue and listlessness.

Also, lately I suspect that I have a lot of food allergies and sensitivities. I have been reading about them and they are quite common, particularly related to wheat, gluten, dairy, eggs, nuts and some fruits. Over the past few months, I've had some near anaphylactic reactions and strange rashes and digestive problems (I know, too much information!) which led me to the cleansing program (I won't link to my post on that).

I'm neither a bedroom nor a bathroom blogger; most will thank me for that. For those who are disappointed, (hi, Stella!) I will merely say that I am very glad I have been cleansing. It hasn't been pretty and I am pretty sure I had parasites, the lucky 1 in 4 people (but I have lived in the Third World much of my life so that could explain it) but I won't elaborate on that. Mostly, I have become very aware of what I am eating and how that has affected my body.

I'm about halfway through my 2 month internal cleansing and I think I am detoxing and have really been noticing my reactions to certain foods. My throat started closing up a bit after eating cinnamon a few weeks ago. I think this has happened before but I didn't pay much attention. I've been so accustomed to feeling crappy that I just took these "little" symptoms for granted, as a part of my unsatisfactory life.

I am sick and tired (literally) of feeling crappy. I just finished a wonderful book about surviving food allergies (Food Allergy Survival Guide - in my sidebar) that has a good scientific and nutrition section, along with many allergen-free recipes, and did not know how common these allergies were. I am frustrated that no doctor has ever mentioned this to me when I complained of my symptoms. Food and additive allergies can cause digestive problems, rashes, runny noses, fatigue, depression . . . your body thinks the normal food particles are enemy invaders and mounts a histamine response to repel them.

So I am taking charge, and am on a practically vegan, mostly organic (produce grown without pesticides) very simple diet, and will gradually reintroduce certain foods and notice my reactions.

I am whining, I know, but at least I am writing.

I wonder if people with allergies and very sensitive skin develop that as part of a scary or unpredictable childhood? If our emotions and psyches must be constantly vigilant, maybe our immune systems likewise become hyper-vigilant, sensing attack and betrayal where none exists?

Maybe that's just a crazy theory. I just want to get to the bottom of why I feel lousy so I can change it. The doctor handed me a few weeks sample of Lexapro, an anti-depressant. What if it's just that I'm eating myself sick?

The Pilot makes me exercise; he told me yesterday that if I wanted to have as round and firm an ass as he, I'd better ride my bike to the gym. Maybe he didn't say those words exactly, but in my hyper-vigilant state, I can read minds and I know that's what he meant, when he said that nutrition is just half of it and that we should exercise more.

My mother (a Norse force) is literally the daughter of an Olympic champion, my grandfather. She has boundless reserves of energy and calls me a "hot house flower." Why did she go and breed with a sicklier, smaller man who wouldn't even stick around after I was born? I guess I wouldn't be me, then.

If you are able to eat whatever you want, wash your face with any old supermarket soap and you feel great without any symptoms, I hate you.

But just watch out, because allergies are all the rage this season. And I'm too sexy for my snot, baby.

The Passion of the Jayne

I've been a bad blogger. If it's any consolation, I've not been much of a participant in any other medium, either. I hope I return soon, to all of it.

Pardon me, but have you seen my zest?
Perhaps I grated it by accident
Into the mixing bowl before I baked?
(As if I have the energy to bake)

I'm sorry, Dear, but I just can't tonight
I've come down with a soulache something fierce
My passion seems to have escaped somewhere
If you took it by mistake, I'd like it back

I once was called a zealot by a few
My zeal has gone the absent way of zest
Vanished, vacant, vaporized it's true
Along with my vitality and vim

'Tired' doesn't do this feeling just
Fatigued and weary, bushed, all-in, malaise'd
I'm worn and drained and flat and my world's gray
No joy, no anger, no interest at all

I can bathe and feed myself and mine
Not much more, no work, no play for me
I sleep and wonder and I sleep some more
But mostly I prefer to nap and rest

I should blog (and work and play and care)
I should pay my bills and exercise
I should reach out, answer notes and calls
But all that takes more than I have right now