Getting Back in the Saddle

It's been a slow process. Good Lord, I'm tired. Takes a lot to get through the day. Still, I've got about 75 percent range of motion in the shoulder, and we're starting to strengthen it a bit. Still gonna take a long time to get back to normal. A few weeks more before I can run again.

Parent-teacher conferences tonight. Two honor roll kids. Who knew? The youngest, who's pretty much a perennial honors student, was bragging all over the oldest. All things considered, not a bad night at all.

Here's my read du jour before I get to bed:

Clothesline rule creates flap
Advocates in 3 states fight ban, cite energy savings
By Jenna Russell, Globe Staff March 13, 2008
CONCORD, N.H. - They say they only want to protect their "right to dry." And in three New England states, advocates for clotheslines - yes, clotheslines, strung across the yard, draped with socks and sheets - are pushing for new laws to liberate residents whose neighbors won't let them hang laundry outside.

Homeowners' associations, which enforce bans on clotheslines at thousands of residential developments across the country, say the rules are needed to prevent flapping laundry from dragging down property values. But in an age of paper over plastic, as people try to take small steps to protect the environment, more residents are chafing at the restrictions. And some lawmakers in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Connecticut are taking it a step further, seeking legislation that would guarantee the freedom to let one's garments flutter in the breeze.

"People think it's silly, but what's silly is to worry so much about having to look at your neighbors' undies that you would prevent them from conserving energy," said Vermont state Senator Dick McCormack, a sponsor of "right to dry" legislation. "We're not making a big deal over clotheslines; we're making a big deal over global warming."

If successful, the measures in Vermont and Connecticut would be the first in New England, and among the first in the country, to protect the age-old custom of air-drying laundry. (The proposal in New Hampshire died in committee, but proponents say they plan to try again next session.)

In a society where most people own dryers, the idea of clotheslines seems to have retained its broad popular appeal. Tide detergent comes in a "clean breeze" scent, described as "the fresh scent of laundry line-dried in a clean breeze," and the signature creations of Yankee Candle Co. include "clean cotton," a scent that evokes "sun-dried cotton with green notes, white flowers, and a hint of lemon," according to the two companies' websites.

In some minds, though, clotheslines connote a landscape of poverty rather than flowering fields. Opponents of the proposed legislation say homeowners' groups have the right to protect property values by forbidding practices they consider unsightly, such as storing junk cars in driveways - and hanging wet laundry outside.

"If you imagine driving into a community where the yards have clothes hanging all over the place, I think the aesthetics, the curb appeal, and probably the home values would be affected by that, because you can't let one homeowner do it and say no to the next," said Frank Rathbun, a spokesman for the Community Associations Institute, a national group based in Virginia that represents thousands of homeowner and condominium associations, many of which restrict clotheslines.

The institute encourages environmentalism, "But we believe the homeowners in each association should determine the rules under which they live," Rathbun said.

I'm Back

Sort of.

First day at work. A little light computer work. Don't feel hideous, at least not yet. Just a little ... strange, after six, seven weeks off.

Going to do some crunches later and go for a long walk.

Hell of a lot to do this week.

Stir Craziness

Spent two hours on hold over the weekend, trying to get my satellite provider -- WildBlue -- to help me figure out my slow connection (I got FAP'ed, but never notified about it. Swine.) Had the following conversation:

"So why can't I change my password so I can see how much bandwidth I'm using?"

"Well, there's an outage."

"Server or satellite?"

"It's an outage."

"I know, but is it a server outage or a satellite outage?"

"It's an outage."

"Do you know what kind of an outage?"

"It's an outage."

Then, come to find out I need to get more freakin' paperwork filled out before I can go back to work. Problem is, this is paperwork I asked to have sent to me in January, and it would now be ... March?

Yes, indeed.

Clearly, there has been great and massive fuckery across the land since I checked out in mid-January. I'm going to have to get back to work and see what can be done about it all ...

The Roast Had A Familiar Face

It's killing my shoulder to type this, but I had to relay the following snippet of conversation before I forget, from the 13-year-old looking at a chicken roasting in the oven:

"Anyone I know?"

Book Reviews

An uncomfortable night. Not horrible, just ... uncomfortable.

So, on to book reviews. I didn't read as much (or as well) as I thought I would over the last month, because painkillers will do that to you. You'll be reading a really interesting book, making mental notes, and the next thing you know, it's 16 hours later and your shoulder hurts like hell because the painkiller has worn off.

Still. I read a fair amount -- probably more than I would have without a decent public library at hand -- and here are some quickie reviews:

The United States of Arugula. Two stars. Meh. I think it's mostly that I like producing food almost as much as consuming it. Or maybe it's just that a lot of people who are really into the restaurant scene have started to seem just a tad pretentious to me. Whatever, this book just didn't do much for me. The book also is based on the assumption that everyone who reads it has as much of an interest in the subject as the author. Not always so true.

A Man's Life: Dispatches from Dangerous Places. Four stars. I really liked this one. Clear-headed writing about climbing, hiking and consequences. I was full of 'amens' to the parts on rehabbing after injury. Mark Jenkins, who wrote for Outdoor magazine, just nails it.

Encounters with the Archdruid. Five stars. John McPhee rules. Ever some friends introduced me to him (Coming into the Country), I've thought McPhee should be a controlled substance. I saw where he's recently been given a Polk for career achievement. Only question is, why it didn't happen sooner. And before I finish slobbering, the book is a series of profile sketches centering around David Brower, the legendary Sierra Club leader who got booted out for being too confrontational.

The Good Good Pig: The Extraordinary Life of Christopher Hogwood. Four-and-a-half stars. It's not five only because it's not Charlotte's Web. But it's really close. Just a very sweet, well-written book.

A Year Without 'Made in China.' Three stars. It's an insanely creative idea for a book, and that's why it gets three stars. There's just some pretty gratuitous spousal bashing, and the author never makes it clear why it might be important to not buy anything from China for a year. And I felt really sorry for her child, in particular.

Guests of the Ayatollah. Four stars. Shouldn't have surprised me that Mark Bowden has another good book out. I cheated slightly -- I listed to this one a couple of years ago as part of a CD rental while driving through Montana. But it's pretty much the definitive account of the Iranian hostage crisis.

In Defense of Food. Three-and-a-half stars. The problem is, I already read The Omnivore's Dilemma. Michael Pollan set the bar so damn high with that book that anything else is going to be a bit of a letdown. If there was a part that annoys me about this book, it was the emphasis on the fats debate. Yawn.

Barnyard in Your Backyard. Three stars. Nothing I haven't read. Decent reference.

Pastured Poultry Profits. Four stars. In a much better world, Joel Salatin would be in charge of American agriculture. Only real criticisms of this book are that it's very much written for an audience in a semi-tropical (i.e., not New England) environment, and I might have really appreciated chicken tractor plans.

Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA. Three-and-a-half stars. Very thorough and engaging. My only real beef with this book is that as badly as the CIA has screwed up some things, I'm sure there are other, untold things that weren't screwed up. Maybe not as many, but a success or two -- assuming there were a few -- would make for a much more balanced, nuanced story.

Five Acres and Independence. Four stars. I liked the tone of this book for some reason. It was written in the 1940s, so a lot of it is quite dated. On the other hand, it never hurts to read about how to get back on your feet after hard times, and the 1930s would've qualified as hard times. Again, I just really liked the tone -- there's no rah-rah, let's all go to the farm, and there's no my-way-or-the-highway advice.

The Lobster Chronicles. Four stars. It's a wonderful memoir, and Linda Greenlaw deserves major props for not getting caught up in the Gloucester storm hype. Only weakness was that it kind of leaves readers hanging at the end, and I wish there were a bit more devoted to the art of lobstering, rather than the politics of a small town.

The Northern Forest. Three-and-a-half stars. Mixed emotions. Some parts were really, really good; others seemed to get bogged down into land-use and administrative trivia. The Northern Forest (it's basically Maine, northern New Hampshire and Vermont, and the Adirondacks) should be a bigger issue than it is, but it needs more than this book to explain it.

The Bourne Identity. Two stars. I like reading these books for no apparent reason. The plot devices are insanely ridiculous and the dialogue can just plod along for years. But I still like the series. Why?

The Complete Guide to Beekeeping. I didn't get to do more than skim this. After doing some thinking, I've decided to hold off another year on getting bees. I've got enough on my one-armed plate as is, without having to worry about learning a new craft.

You Can Farm. Another Salatin screed. Three-and-a-half stars. Worth reading, although I wish he'd dwell a bit more on disasters that can happen on a farm. Which is half the fun of farming. But you'll never read (at least, I didn't) about anything like the time my little brother got the jeep stuck at my dad's ranch and tried to get it out with the pickup ... which then became stuck. Dad intercepted little brother as he was heading out to the field in Dad's Cadillac.

Seed to Seed. I've only skimmed this one. It looks like a phenomenally good resource, but maybe not so much for entertainment. We'll see; the reviews are good. Seed-saving strikes me as one of those things that's a royal pain in the ass but just essential to know about.

Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why. Two stars. I should've read the cover jacket a bit more closely. This is more about neurology (I think) than adventure. This book just bored the hell out of me, for no good reason.

Gardening When It Counts. I haven't read this one yet. Want to, but haven't. Maybe I'll be coherent enough this weekend to get through it. It's part of the Mother Earth series, so I'm certain it'll have good information (although has anyone besides me ever wondered why there are so many ads for heavy machinery in the monthly MEN?)

Scratch Beginnings: Me, $25, and the Search for the American Dream. Four-and-a-half stars. So I was browsing the innernets and came across a review of this book by Adam Shepherd. He gave himself a year to start with nothing and build up to a place to live, car and save up some money. And did it, successfully, in Charleston, S.C. Kind of an optimistic version of Barbara Ehrenreich. It's very well written and reminds you that there's maybe some economic hope after all if you're willing to work hard and stick to a plan.

The Complete Tightwad Gazette. Four stars. So, some of this book is over the top. And some of it's just not do-able for some people. But you can't fault people for trying to save money, and so much of this is just common sense. Question yourself before you buy something not completely essential, don't drive somewhere if you don't have to drive, look at yard sales for some things, etc. The cooking tips alone are invaluable and worth the price of the book (even if we got it from the library). But I'll be buying our own copy just so I can put sticky notes in some parts.

So I guess the moral of the story is: I like to read.

Going to sleep now. This took about 45 minutes, and I am just beat.

There Will Be Whining

It's been a one-Vicodin day, but not without some effort.

Took the boys to the bus stop this morning; it was snowing lightly. Came home and didn't quite feel like going back to sleep, didn't quite feel like staying awake. Did the next-best thing and sat down with The Complete Tightwad Gazette for some ideas. Which, while good, promptly put me back to sleep.

Woke up just in the nick of time for an 11a physical terrorism session. Range of motion is slowly getting better, but I've just got no strength left in my right arm. My left arm isn't doing so well, either, but that's mostly because it's being used for the first time in 44 years. Anyway, the one Vicodin (so far, anyway), is a good sign, I think.

Really, I've had maybe three or four very, very bad nights in the last month -- the kind where you're looking for a .38 to chase your oxycodone -- and one was the night after the operation. The last bad night was earlier this week, when a muscle decided to spasm for a few hours.

Got home after the therapy, quick grocery run, hardware store stop, chicken egg dropoff and post office check. There was a long, long line of cars heading south in the snow; it's been winter break time in New York, Connecticut and New Jersey, so the tourists were doing what tourists do, and going home in the worst possible weather.

Wiped out beyond belief when I got home ... which meant it was time for my boss to call and check on how I'm feeling and when I can get back to work. I'm hoping I didn't sound like a total drooling crack-monkey on the phone.

But speaking of crack: I'm hooked on The Wire. I need to find the first four seasons. And this is one of the most creative blogs I've ever seen -- on the NY Times site! Who knew? Anyway, check it out. How cool is that?

Book reviews tomorrow, assuming a certain level of ambulatory-ness. Maybe not so cool.

Look, Ma, One Hand!

"An injury worth the time will slow you down -- precisely what we all desperately need. An injury will make you do one thing at a time. You'll re-remember that multitasking only means you're doing several things poorly. Injured, you must focus on the one thing for it to happen at all. With this singularity of focus comes happiness, for you have been released from distraction, the most corrosive disease of twenty-first-century life."

...

"These are the emotional ups and downs of rehab. I try to accept it. Acceptance -- particularly accepting the present just the way it is -- is one of the greatest lessons a serious injury can teach. Unfortunately, it will probably take a few more wrecks before I learn it."



A Man's Life.

Dispatches from Dangerous Places.

By Mark Jenkins.





So it's been one month post-op, and here's the thing about shoulder surgery:


It sucks. Really, really sucks.

Yep, that's my shoulder. The bloody spots are where the bone spurs were removed, the puffy white stuff is lacerated tendon, and we just won't even post -- let alone discuss -- what the end of my collarbone looks like, where the surgeon did the acromioplasty. Eh, we can talk about what it looks like (a stump), but not really what it feels like. I've been telling people that my shoulder has been through the grinder, but the above picture shows that clearly, the grinder has been through my shoulder.

Several times, in fact.

It didn't start out all that badly. I showed up at the hospital at 1015a on Martin Luther King Jr. Day and was chatting with the anesthesiologist by 1115a. The conversation went something like this:

"I can't move my right arm. Did that have anything to do with the shot?"

"That's the nerve block. It'll reduce pain, swelling and sensation for eight to 24 hours."

"If I can't feel anything, can we do this with a local?"

He put a syringe up to the line sticking out of my hand.

"We can discuss it later."

"How much later? Because I'm afraid I know just a little too much about general anesth ..."

I woke up a few hours later, thinking: Son. Of. A. Bitch.

But I was alive. And except for a tickle at the back of my throat where they jammed the funnel, I felt ... well, I felt terrific. And in a hurry to get home and curl up under a whole lot of blankets. The orthpaedist came in and gave the shoulder the once-over. Nothing awful, he said, other than a ton of fluid in the shoulder. Bone spurs sanded down, labrum not too shredded for recovery. All in all, I got off light, but even so, he felt obliged to mention that I'd be in a lot of pain for a long time.

I'm hoping he's as right about the recovery as he's been about the pain.

But enough about that. I'll whinge some more about the intervening month later. I didn't even look at a computer for two weeks, and I've been doing a very cautious left-hand type for the last two weeks. The physical terrorists said it's OK for me to use two hands now, at least until I feel pain.

Which would be right about now.