From Pain Comes Pizza.

Being a shut in today and that’s OK, especially after such a rough and restless night. Leg and ankle swelling made getting into a comfortable position a physical challenge. I sat up most of the night reading; falling asleep whenever I could.

As it now stands, Ireland is going to be hosting friend Linda another week. The results of the original biopsy proved inconclusive so she had to endure another one, having to wait for these results until early next week.  How the results could be inconclusive she says she can’t understand because the chunk of flesh they took out of her was quite large.

Anyway, she’s stuck.  Be that as it may, she told me this morning that flight reservations are made for next Thursday (our puny Thanksgiving - and what it’s become - means nothing to the Irish) so she is planning to come home no matter what the results of the latest biopsy reveal.  One can tell, even by the written words, that she is one pissed off Irish Lass and most folks would be wantin’ to stay out of her way these next few days.  

Jeffrey just checked in to see if I was in need and if I felt up to meeting him for an after-shift cocktail today. I nixed the cocktail idea but asked if he would deliver a small pizza after work from my fave place. He said it wouldn’t be a problem. We’ll try to meet up for a festive cocktail later in the weekend, if possible.

A fresh pizza - delivered! That’s great! I have no beer, but a shot of Jameson’s might be in order. With the swollen legs, pain and weakness, I couldn’t prepare a hot meal for myself tonight, anyway. I am pretty tired of cold turkey sandwiches, of you get my drift.

A nice reward for putting up with the pain. Pain meds following the pizza should put me down for the rest of the night and I’ll be on my feet (literally) tomorrow morning.

I am amazed.

*

New Blood, Jettison of Shorts & Touchdown of Kilts.

One Style of Modern Utility Kilt

Unfortunately, Labs results yesterday told me I needed to be infused. The hemoglobin was down a full point - below the cut off point for my own safety. 

One unit was ordered and the port remained accessed for convenience. An appointment for blood was quickly set up for this morning at 9 am.

Nicole offered to do the honors, even if it is her day off. In return I promised a bit of winter shopping and a stop for lunch at the restaurant of her choice. She giggle and said she’d like nothing more than a burger on the beach if the weather was warmer and the winds weren’t so strong. We settled for something a little less uncomfortable - and indoors.

While I was somewhat disappointed in the outcome of the tests, the up side is that I went 2 weeks without requiring new blood. That and the fact that the platelets remain in high numbers as do the neutrophil count give me hope.   Slowly, but surely…

Patience, please! 

The infusion went well, though a little slower than usual, but I was still ready for lunch about 1 pm. And I was HUNGRY!!!  Enuf said.  

The afternoon flew by after lunch as Nicole and I traipsed around the area scouting out shopping venues for special items she wants to get her grandparents and friends. We had a good time and when we were finally done, I was pretty beat and ready for the drive home - and bed. 

I will be in bed in a few minutes and I’m sure she’ll be the same when she gets home shortly. She’s off the rest of the day, no new homework to contend with until Monday.  Her last class is tomorrow morning so I can assume she is in “chill” mode for the weekend.

Casual Tartans with sporrans.

Following 2 days of outings this week I am ready for shut-in mode, if for no other reason than to address the edema in the ankles and calves.  They are quite large after being on my feet for so long. The Kilt with soft loose cotton socks helps alleviate the itching and redness. I even bought a pair of those Eddie Bauer men’s thin lounging light-weight flannel pants, but they’re still too annoying on the front of the shins and calves.  

So, shorts or kilts are the items to remember for daily dress.  I’ve been receiving many compliments on the kilts this past week or two. So, I have a new attitude towards kilts vs. shorts.  Shorts big and baggie and not comfortable even after their washing and drying yesterday. But none of that is true with a kilt,  so as not to cause additional injury or more pain the kilt wins hands (pants!) down.

I’m totally hooked on kilts now. And…I don’t look half bad wearing one,

Similar Style to my old black one. I love it.

either. I am partial to the utility kilts due to their rugged design, heavy duty fabric, double stitching, and the over all comfortable feel. The "drop" is usually between 22" and 24" and depends on how you wear it at the waist. I'm pretty comfortable with either length, but am more used to the older 24" drop.

So, there you have it.

If you’d like more information on a small reputable company with great prices and the best shipping and customer service, just send me an email message and I’ll get the info off to you.  Or, if you’d like, I can post the info here and you can take it from there on your own. 

I am amazed.

*

Attack of Vacuum-sealed Vintage Fashions

 (There's a movie title in there somewhere.)

The vacuum-released sweaters kept expanding overnight until I thought I was surrounded by Tribbles. Lest I be smothered by old fashion statements, I began unfolding them, laying them flat wherever I found a clear, flat spot to let them continue to air - - and continue to grow. And they have...FREE AT LAST!!!

To be honest, I don’t remember any of these. The box may have been sealed when (in my previous life) we were moving into the new townhouse back in 1997. Crew necks never go out of style, but where in Hell did the Boat necks come from? The cardigans are kind of iffy, and the turtlenecks are colorful, indeed. There is no odor that I can detect. 

I’m sure the contents were cleaned before being packed and sucked down to the thickness of a paperback book, but I’ll either throw them in the dryer with a fabric sheet, or take them to the cleaners, just to be safe.  Then they’re off to the thrift store just in time for the cold weather. And from what I’m reading lately, there will be much need for these this year.

Stopped at the deli for a sandwich - it’s been months since I’ve had one - a real, honest to goodness deli sandwich - and it was delicious. TV was on in the

background. I noticed that it wasn’t tuned to FOX, thank the goddess.

CNN Television news played on the wall and it was all so confusing; something about concentration camps, boxcars full of Xristian Xrazies being transported to Auschwitz, ‘er Detroit, or some equally dreadful place. 

They did a 12 minute segment on sales of the Apple iPhone 6 - as the lede - while the Scotland vote received short shrift and less than 5 minutes. And not one word about the Russian planes buzzing the air space of other countries.  Well, I guess they know more about what we’re interested in than we do…

Child beater Adrian Peterson said he’s not a bad parent…well of course he did.  Maybe I’ll share one of my own “bad parent” stories with you sometime. It’s not for today and it’s not pretty.

Senatorette Lindsey Graham (I do declare!) is having an attack of the vapors because something called ISIS is going to come here and kill us ALL as we sleep.  While the kids on the other side of the street, calling themselves the NOTNOT say otherwise. But does any of that amount to “Breaking News”?  I suppose it's "breaking news" if you're hearing it for the first time, but...I recall having read these stories a couple of days ago - in the real media. Oh, I guess I forgot about the spoon-feeding thing we do here with our newscasts toward the dumbing down of America.

I may have mentioned this before but it bears repeating: the talking heads of the news organizations in TV land are in serious need of the proper makeup for HD broadcasts. They all look like Tammy Faye Bakker, or better yet, were made up by an undertaker.  When the viewer can see the rocks of caked mascara or the flakes of pancake on the chin, you know you’ve got trouble. I’m just sayin’. 

All in all, I have to say that I am happy to be reminded of a few of the reasons I choose not have television service in my home.  It’s overwhelmingly filled with ‘the stoopid’ and little else.

I’m going to prepare curried pork chops smothered in onions and red cabbage for supper tonight. I’ll probably eat only one, but these are even better as leftovers.  

I am also going to indulge in another Sazerac cocktail before the cooking begins - sipping throughout the cooking process.  Sounds good to me.

And so it goes.

*

Out of the Blue - In Kilts!

"Don't You Want Me" Recorded live at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I just love these guys. They love what they do, work hard at it, and do it so well.

The link was sent by a visitor who read about my Labor Day Happy Hour adventure and wearing my kilt. She said, "I hope this makes your day."

It did. "Boing - Boing"

And so it goes.
*

Of Kilt Pins, Festive Burgers, & Donated Clothing

I’ve been searching for a new kilt pin, since mine was taken by my Ex during the settlement years ago and only recently noticed. (Read previous posts to catch up.)  Anyway, I had no luck hunting one down locally, so I took to the Net to see what I could find. 

Don't strain. It is from USAkilts.com

I was on Chemo at the time, so the brain fog was ever present.  I had no trouble finding kilt pins, but most depicted swords, lions, and various reminders of wars, violent times in the Scottish/Irish past. I’m a non-violent person so swords were not going to do it for me.

I found few that were unique, including a round one that was stunning, but way too expensive for what I wanted to pay for a pin. There was this pewter one (pictured above) of a graceful, elongated Celtic design that caught my eye, so I bookmarked the page for later reference, otherwise in brain fog state, I’d never find it again. It’s a beautiful piece, really.

Fast-forward to the past week. I arrived home from treatment to find a package in the mailbox. It turned out to be this very pin, so I thought I had gone ahead and ordered it - just didn’t remember - and left it at that until 2 days later when I hunted for the invoice/packing slip to find out what credit card it was charged to. I discovered that it was a gift. I hadn’t purchased it after all.

This took a while to filter through the windswept void that is my brain anymore. It was a gift from a blog buddy and regular commenter, Calvin, who has given me permission to thank him publicly. Fortunately for me, his personal info was included on the invoice, so I sent an email thanking him properly.  What a happy surprise and coincidence that he liked the same pin. It will be worn proudly and the story behind it will be told many times over again. 

Thanks again, Calvin. The sun shines a little brighter thanks to your generosity and kindness.

Thank you to all who hoped that burger the other night would measure up to my expectations. It did. It was well worth waiting for.  Since I can’t have fresh veggies, I missed the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, but it was almost perfect without them, anyway. As I said, "almost".

I usually buy 85%-15% lean beef (you need that little bit of fat) then add seasonings. Fresh minced parsley (Italian flat is better than curled), crushed garlic, onion powder, salt, black & white peppers, and Lea & Perrins. Knead it all by hand until everything is evenly distributed and mixed well, cover, refrigerate, and let it marinate at least a couple of hours. Form into patties, wrap tightly in plastic wrap then waxed paper and freeze.  All of course, except for the one to be consumed that evening. Heaven!

Summer heat and humidity have returned, so I’ve spent today getting another batch of clothing ready for the Thrift Store. Items are piled high all over the living room sofa and chair. I won’t put them into bags until I’m ready to deliver so there will be no - or limited - need for ironing. I can actually see the closet floor in some places, and when the sweaters are gone I’ll have plenty of room. I'm thinking bowling alley or Cinerama Theatre.

Tomorrow begins the last hoo-rah, the last gasp of the summer of 2014, and, unfortunately, I have to be out and in it.  Prescriptions are a damned nuisance any time, but having to pick them up on a holiday weekend is evil. Pure evil! I’ll be out of here as early as possible, get the scrips as soon as the pharmacists arrive, and back home ASAP.  Have I ever mentioned how much I hate drugs?  I hate drugs.

My Kilt pin however, is beautiful. I am definitely going to wear it to the Stoney Lonen party on Monday evening. 

And so it goes.

* 

Because... Baby Jeebus

A few weeks ago, tired of staring at this sorry-ass face of mine, I decided it might be interesting to re-grow my beard. I had one for many years. (As you will see if you stop by TBT most all photos show a bearded me.  About 25 years.) 

Since I’m losing hair everywhere else - due to genetics or the Chemo - sprouting facial hair has been a nice diversion.  The doctors and nurses love it.  Shop owners and friendly cashiers like it, too. Love to stroke it, run their hands through it…you get the idea. Everyone is amazed at how quickly it grew out (I’ve already had to trim it) in less than a month.

So you can imagine my surprise today when I was confronted by a Xristian Xrazy in reference to the fuzzy face, who laid it on me about my going straight to Hell.  Yep!  That’s what she said. And she's  good friends with the baby Jeebus, so you know it's true.

As she sat on the boardwalk bench beside me, she explained that only Muslim men wear beards (Not a Duck Dynasty fan?) and that baby Jeebus would be confused, probably not recognize me as Xristian with facial hair. (Never mind historical facts, they count for nothing here; think blond-haired blue-eyed Jeebus with his smart, fashionable, wispy goatee.) And since He doesn’t like to be confused (evidently, it upsets him no end) He will deny my entrance to heaven and send me - forthwith - to Hades without so much as asking a single question. So, there!

Here I am looking about as much like a Muslim as Elmer Fudd; dressed in cargo shorts, sport shirt, Inkkas, shades, and sporting my festive chapeau. I wanted to laugh, but she was dead serious and I didn’t want the police to remove a crazy person from my tired old body.  Instead, I told her I would shave as soon as I got home.  That I had no idea that Jeebus would be annoyed or confused. She was fine with that.

Though I must say, when I caught a glimpse of my refection in a shop window later on, I looked like some character who had fallen out of a Tennessee Williams novel - hat and all! I laughed my head off. 

Anyway, she was appeased and moved on to another bench to see what she could find that Jeebus would be offended by with the next poor soul in her path. 

Then the fog began to lift.  Seriously.  There was pea soup fog this morning and as I made my way back to the car, the sun began burning it off, turning the day into a sunny and mild one - whenever people decided to wake up and enjoy it.

No, I did not shave off my beard for Baby Jeebus. I figure if he can’t recognize me - clothed, naked, bearded or clean shaven, his observation skills suck, he's a shitty prophet, and he ain’t much of a Son of God.

I need a glass of wine!

And so it goes.

*

UPDATE:  I wonder if my xristian xrazie lady flew in with the super moon? I forgot it was saturday. 

Fedora or Outback?

Let me preface this by saying that I don’t think I look good in hats. Oh sure, I wear a baseball-cap type to keep the sun off my baldpate, but that took a lot of getting used to.  Now this.

This is going to be a part of my morning-walk-on-the-boardwalk attire. (See the image at left.) Thanks to the Chemo and one of the other meds the sun is dangerous to my health, and happy skin. I broke out in a strange sort of blister/rash last evening, by this morning it was a pretty ugly sight and I was a wreck. 

Along with the twin Vidaza injections, I was given another, of some unpronounceable substance which ought to help relieve the itch and bring the blistering under control.

There are no men’s hat shops around here; shops only carry the usual beachy straw things, bands in loud heterosexual colors, with ultra-cool (read Dorky!) narrow brims that do nothing to keep the sun at bay. You know, it’s about a certain style, je nais se quoi. 

So, there you have it. I purchased this one from the same online retailer where I bought the hat for my NOLA holiday last year. That one, a sort of crushable Indiana Jones affair, was very useful (I think), but the brim isn’t wide enough for the protection now required.  I don’t want my neck or face to look like my pate. Of course, I don’t want to look like a horse’s ass, either.

Note: There are no pictures of me in that hat because there are no pictures of me in NOLA. The trip boiled down to high fevers and the interior of the hotel room. Not a festive time, by any stretch of the imagination.

The ankle swelling has returned and this time includes the feet, too. I have 2 new prescriptions to counter this problem, as well. 

It was decided that I looked a bit on the green side when I arrived at the  Center this afternoon, so a blood draw was done, CBC, etc. 2 units are scheduled for me tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, to be followed by the twin Vidaza Chemo injections.  Then, I get to come home and collapse in a ragged heap as the diuretic and Chemo ravages my body.

Every single day there's something new to be bothered with.  Today, it’s the hat, or no more morning walks. I’ll settle for the hat for now and take those walks as long as I can. I may even take a selfie in the damned thing if I get up the nerve. No need to promise not to laugh.  Remember, laughs are good for us.  Remember???  

And so it goes.

*

A Short Post on Men’s Shorts

Ever since singer(?) Pharrell Williams wore a tuxedo with short pants to the Oscars  everyone seems to be buzzing about this cool (no pun intended) new trend.  Now, his hats are another story!!!

Note: I had such a tuxedo with shorts (satin stripe down the side, and all) purchased in a Mod-shop in London in 1966 that also featured a kilt for a change of “the look.”  Fortunately, that look didn’t last long. At least not in the US.  Although kilts were around the gay community until about 1970 when the “clone” look took over for the next two decades.

I always liked shorter shorts - sort of the old Bermuda length, or shorter - and cannot abide the black-influenced baggy things that pass for shorts today. I don’t think they make any man look attractive, masculine, or the least bit sexy. Like the pants around your ass look, I think it makes white guys look like they’re trying to be cool black guys.  It just doesn’t work that way. When I see guys in baggy culottes  I think of a toddler forced to wear hand-me-downs from an older sibling. To him, it’s just something to grow into. Poor thing.

Not that I dare to wear shorts of any kind anymore, but I do have a few pair of cargo shorts originally purchased for the NOLA holiday last year.  And glad I did.  It was so hot at times, I didn’t care what my legs looked like as long as they were cool and sweat-free. 

Lately, I’ve seen ads for suits with short pants from various big name companies, but they have no style, design, no je ne sais quoi.  They look like suits off the racks, in traditional fabrics and colors, with the legs hacked off at varying lengths.  Yes, these suit shorts come in a Bermuda length, a to-the-knee length, and what I call the peddle-pusher length.  Horrible. 

Thank all the stars in heaven they are not wearing socks or sandals . This is supposedly the “hot, new trend” for summer 2014.  I think I’ll pass, but there’s no guarantee I won’t laugh when I see some fashionista dork trying to look cool in this - whatever it is. 

Now, I could see this look in the deep, hot, humid South in a pink or blue seersucker or white linen, but not on a grand fashion scale.

Personally, I doubt this look will take off within the gay community; we have certainly abdicated our responsibilities in recent years.

I seem to remember when fashion made a statement, now it seems only to ask the question…WHY?

Maybe it’s just my age showing.

And so it goes.

*