The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's.

Today is my baby boy's 14th birthday. I love you, Tank.

Pictures, in no particular order.

Tank - home - August 2010


Meathead and Tank - Sauvie Island - June 2008


Tank, Tonto, Geronimo, Zak and Brandi - Watkins Glen, NY - September 1998


Tank and Curly Joe - home - March 2009


Tank - home - July 2008


Maria, Tank, me and Geronimo - Fingerlakes National Forest (aka "where we camped every weekend") - upstate NY - September 1998


Tank, me, Luke, Lady - Chicago - July 1999


Tank loves his Goodie Ship. He's had it for 13 years. Home - December 2007


Tankerbell. Oxbow Lake - U.P. - October 1999


Home - September 2009


Home - November 2008


Home - August 2009


Tank, welcoming his BFF (Luke) home after major surgery - Home - April 2005


Sauvie Island - Portland, Oregon - June 2008


Me, Cat, Maria, Geronimo and Tank - Finger Lakes National Forest - upstate NY - September 1998


Meathead, Bernie, me and Tank - Chicago, Illinois - January 1999


Me and Tank - the gorge - Watkins Glen, New York - September 1998


Home - December 2008


Me and Tank - Manchester, Vermont - October 1998


Me and the old man, getting some sun - Mom's - August 2011


Old habits die hard; I like to nap on my dog - home - May 2011


Helping me test my "new" camera - home - March 2009


Luke and Tank. No homo. - home - April 2007


Tank: best foster brother EVER. He was so good with the dogs we rescued from the pound. Here he is with Ren - Watkins Glen, NY - August 1998


My beautiful boy - home - March 2009


Frolic! - home - December 2008

A watered down manifestation of my own death instinct.

I'm on vacation until Monday. Not much going on, just "preparing" for the Warrior Dash on Sunday. By way of preparation I am doing a whole lot of nothing. I haven't been training. Haven't run in months. I'm not even eating very well. I'm completely unprepared and I don't care. I just want to run this thing, get my helmet, my medal and my beer, pat myself on the back and go home. Hopefully I'll be able to walk by the time I go back to work Monday night.

More to say, don't feel like saying it.

Still here.

Not much to say. Rather, no time to say it. So...hi. And bye. More later.

Suicide is painless.

I got a book for three bucks at Goodwill the other day. It was hard finding something good, let me tell you. Most of the books there are religious, romance or just plain fucking stupid. So when I saw this book by the same guy who'd written "High Fidelity," I snagged it.

It's called "A Long Way Down," and it's about four strangers who meet on New Years Eve, at the top of a fifteen-story building in London. They were all there to kill themselves.

"...At its heart, [it] isn't really about suicide itself, anyway....It's more about what happens when you don't kill yourself."

I thought that sounded like a pretty interesting read. And it is. I'm a little over halfway through, and don't have a bad thing to say about it. My favorite character is not the American musician from Chicago, but the 18-year old, potty-mouthed daughter of a junior education minister. She's a nutjob, but her dialog is at once idiotic, hysterical, touching and insightful.

I'm impatient to get to the end (no pun intended?), but I'm taking my time. They say that suicide is a selfish act (having children, in my opinion, being the second selfish), and I would agree. People who kill themselves, it's all over for them. But anyone they left behind, it's never over for them. They take on all that pain, and more-- because it's so senseless. It's sudden and traumatic and confusing and painful. You're left holding baggage that doesn't belong to you, baggage you never asked for or wanted, but you go through it, over and over again, and you try and make sense of what's inside.

How could you not be angry at the person who dumped that on you? How could you not hate them a little? There is maybe some envy as well; suicide is a selfish act, but it takes courage. It takes strength to go against every natural instinct and take your own life.

Some quotes from the book:

"...shit happens, and there's no space too small, too dark and airless and fucking hopeless, for people to crawl into."

"I like to know that there are big places without windows where no one gives a shit. You need confidence to go into small places with regular customers---small bookshops and small music shops and small restaurants and cafes. I'm happiest in the Virgin Megastore and Borders and Starbucks and PizzaExpress, where no one gives a shit, and no one knows who you are. My mum and dad are always going on about how soulless those places are, and I'm like, Der. That's the point."

That's about it. Suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it if I please.

Speaking of a slow death-- time for work. I'm on six days this week, by choice, and wondering if the overtime is actually worth it.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

A transmission on the midnight radio.

My friend Danny died seven years ago this past Saturday. It's ten years since I saw him last, the day my Grandma died. It seems like all I post about is death and loss, but it's how I've marked time since I was a kid. Good moments aren't traumatic and are therefore harder to hold onto.

I send Danny's ma a card twice a year -one for his birthday and one for the day he died- but it never seems like enough. Still, I think those little messages are more than the rest of Danny's friends can manage. I would hate for her to feel like she's alone on those days. I know it would mean a lot to me to have someone I lost remembered by someone else. A parent never forgets; it's part of the job. to be remembered (and still loved) by a friend is testament to what a remarkable man he was. And he was unforgettable.

I'm on the train to work and I can't write what I want without crying in front of strangers, so I'll end this here.

I miss you, Danny.

Love,
K

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Haven't we been here before?

I went up to my mom's house on Sunday, like I do every weekend. At around 8:30 Monday morning, I felt a familiar cramp in my right side. "Couldn't be," I thought to myself. "It's almost exactly a year ago that I had kidney stones."

I went to bed and woke up in agony about an hour or so later. I had my mom call my doctor because I was in no shape to talk. They had a 3:30 appointment available, and my mom said we would take it. I think the receptionist heard me groaning because she came back and said they had an 11:15. I had to have my mom put my shoes on because bending over was killing me. A few minutes into the trip, I had to pull over and have my mom drive so I could curl up in the back seat and scream. And also puke. Sorry, Sis.

I shuffled into the elevator and the woman who got in before me pressed three for me. She asked if I was okay and I said, "Kidney stones. I'm sorry about the screaming." She said, "God, don't apologize." heh. I got signed it at the office (thankfully, they take my new insurance, so I don't have to find a new PCP) and waited. They brought me into a room and I curled up on the table and groaned out my answers to the nurse. I had to sit up for my blood pressure, which was extremely high, but I spent the rest of the exam lying on the table and my doctor basically talked to my ass the entire time. I got an anti-nausea shot in my left cheek and an anti-inflammatory in my right. A nurse helped me to the bathroom so I could get them a urine sample and while I don't have blood in my urine, I do have a urine infection. My doctor went over last year's kidney chart and it turns out I had calcium stones and also a cyst on my right ovary.

Long story short, they sent me home with two Rxs: Ciprofloxacin (for the infection) and Hydrocodone (for the gagonizing pain). Oh, this is funny. The nurse gave me a barf bag which looked like a giant blue condom. They put me in a wheelchair and took me out to the van, and as we passed a group of children, I was seized by an extremely painful cramp, leaned over and puked into the condom. "herFLEHHHAAWWW!" One of the kids screamed. Another said, "Mommy, what's wrong with her??"

Did I forget to mention I had my shoes on wrong?

The pain diminished enough on the way home, so I was able to sit up and talk to my mom. I think I talked to Sis, and I know I was posting on facebook, but I don't remember getting back to my mom's house. I remember taking my pants off, but that's about it. My mom woke me up at 7p.m. and said she'd spoken to my doctor and she'd told her that, because of the shots I'd received, I shouldn't go to work. I called my boss and left her a message, and I'm pretty sure I sounded drunk. I passed out again and woke up at around 1 a.m. to take the dogs out and eat something. I watched Laverne and Shirley ("Calm down, will ya? You're giving the dog monkey nerves!") and Batman and fell asleep and now I'm up again. I've drank about seven pints of water in an effort to flush these bastards out.

Last year's CT scan revealed stones in both kidneys, though the ones in the left (where the pain was) were bigger. The stones in my right kidney, I found out yesterday, were tiny and "up high." They sure as hell don't feel tiny.

I've been scouring the internet for information on how to never have to go through this again, but it doesn't look good. There are conflicting reports about calcium stones. They're caused by too much calcium, they're caused by not enough calcium. wtf?

My friend Jason recommended drinking olive oil and lemon juice to help pass the stone. Why not? It's kind of like drinking salad dressing, right? I've been drinking water like it's going out of style. I try and drink a lot anyway, but I never seem to get enough. I always feel dehydrated. I've been feeling sort of light-headed and weak lately; feverish, too. I'm starting to wonder if those weren't warning signs.

The pain is more or less gone, though I feel a twinge pretty often. I can deal with twinges. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but there is something about this sort of pain that is ... unrelenting. You can't get away from it. The face-down fetal position seems to help, but only for so long.

Here's a picture of last year's stone (one of them):



I'm not bothering to try and catch the ones from my right kidney. We know who they are, we know what they want. Blah blah blah.

So here's anothe wakeup call to take better care of myself. One website recommends:

You may reduce your risk of kidney stones if you:

• Drink water throughout the day. Drink more water throughout the day. For people with a history of kidney stones, doctors usually recommend passing about 2.6 quarts (2.5 liters) of urine a day. Your doctor may ask that you measure your urine output to ensure that you're drinking enough water. People who live in hot, dry climates and those who exercise frequently may need to drink even more water to produce enough urine.


• Eat fewer oxalate-rich foods. If you tend to form calcium oxalate stones, your doctor may recommend restricting foods rich in oxalates. These include rhubarb, beets, okra, spinach, Swiss chard, sweet potatoes, tea, chocolate and soy products. (Nooooooooooo!!!!)


• Choose a diet low in salt and animal protein. Reduce the amount of salt you eat and choose nonanimal protein sources, such as nuts and legumes. This may help reduce your chance of developing kidney stones. (No problem, there.)


• Continue eating calcium-rich foods, but use caution with calcium supplements. The calcium in the food you eat doesn't have an effect on your risk of kidney stones. Continue eating calcium-rich foods unless your doctor advises otherwise. Ask your doctor before taking calcium supplements, though, as these have been linked to an increased risk of kidney stones. You may reduce the risk by taking supplements with meals.
(I don't take any supplements.)

No tea or chocolate?! WTF??? There's always carob, right? And now that I know my doctor takes my new insurance, I can go back and address some other health issues I've been having. Plus I need to see that Neurologist about my foot numbness.

Did I mention I vomited so violently that the blood vessels in my face and neck exploded?

I've read several accounts where women who have given birth to twins (naturally and without pain meds) have said that kidney stones are far worse than childbirth. Ugh.

Gonna go watch Canadian Bacon until I fall asleep.

P.S. It took me over an hour to write this because I'm so groggy I can't spell properly.

Maybe if I knew what a craw is I could tell you what was up it.

Shall I sum up? Okay.

Last month I went rollerskating for the first time in about ten years. Blading, I should say. I went rollerblading. With my friend and my sister. At Oaks Park. Why am I typing. Like this?

Afterward, we stopped at the Rimsky-Korsakoffee House, which I won't even try to explain. You have to go and experience it for yourself.

Last month I also went to my very first hockey meet up, which I'd only found out about a few days beforehand. (And yes, there is an app for that.) We met at the 4th Down sports bar in SE Portland; I took the train and met my friend R there, for backup. We watched the Blackhawks game on three giant screen TVs and ate tater tots. I had a great time. The guy who organized it is really nice and a Red Wings fan (from Michigan). In fact, the majority of us are Wing fans. Go figure. Anyway, not a lot of people showed up, but that's fine. It was the first meet up.

Halloween weekend, I went to my friend's cd release party and had my very first whiskey. My friend Aed and her boyfriend drove, otherwise I wouldn't have had any. Afterward, we went to Potato Champion. At least, that was the plan. We had Whiffies (fried pies) instead and OMG WERE THEY GOOD.

The next night, Sis and I went to my friend's brother's house for a Kids in the Hall marathon. We brought the pilot episode and all five seasons (and a bag of crazy core Skittles) and got down to business. There were three kids there, ranging in ages from 12 to 3 (I think), but V and her brother weren't that much older when they first started watching the Kids, so we let them join us. Long story short, there is now a whole new generation of head crushers in the Portland area. They're not even my kids and yet, I'm so proud.

Anyway, it was great to finally watch the Kids in the Hall with people who actually loved them as much as we do. I haven't laughed that hard in a long, long time. I think we got through the pilot and Season One, and then had to call it a night (but not before J told us about the booger bed and innertubing). On the way home, we passed something called Assurety Northwest, which I read as Assery Northwest. My sister read it, out loud, as "Ass, you ready?" Incidentally, at that very moment, my sister and I had been discussing felching, nasal anal and how Kevin McDonald and Dave Foley can do stuff together that still allows them to technically remain virgins.

I shit you not.

Needless to say, we're going to have to go back for another marathon or five.

This past weekend (Saturday), I went to the second hockey meet up, this time at a place on Hawthorne. Again, I met my friend R there. This time it was the Red Wings vs Vancouver. More people showed up this time, but still not as many as RSVP'd. The Wings lost, but there is talk of meeting up for the Winterhawks game on the 20th. When the organizer told me about that, I told him about the firefighters. Normally, they play at the Mt View Ice Arena in Vancouver, but they're having a charity game on November 20th to benefit the son of one of the firefighters. For $13 you get in to the charity game at 2pm (at the Memorial), and the ticket is also good for the 'Hawks vs Kamloops game at 7pm. R said she would do both and take me out to the bars afterward , and the meet up organizer sounded like he was pretty interested as well. I'll post some info about it in a couple of days, when I have time.

At any rate, I've got to get ready for work.