I wiped my leg on a hedge

Warning: post contains poop.

I'm now 4 months post official separation - the CRA and my employer are notified, I am on the road to divorce. Which is a really ugly word for a very useful practice, people live a long time, they change, and we should allow people to dissolve partnerships that aren't working. Right now I'm pretty delighted to be officially separated, and looking forward to finalizing everything. My soon to be ex spouse? Not so much, he's wallowing in misery, but at least he's functioning.

Running is what makes me feel good. It boosts my mood, the boost lasts a long time, even if it's a shitty run. And wow, was yesterday's run ever shitty! I forgot rule 1 of running: don't do it after a sizable meal. The meal can stimulate the bowels, as can the running, and realizing at the point farthest from your door that you have to poop is not the runner's high we dream of.

I didn't make it. I really didn't make it. I've pooped a bit running before, it's horrible but manageable. The worst is usually trying to take off soiled tights without getting shit all over the bathroom, and at worst you have to clean the bathroom, which I do anyways.

I wasn't in tights. I was in shorts.

Shorts not built for containment.

I felt horror as I realized the shit was going to be visible. There is no shirt long enough to hide that. I had poop on my shoes. I wiped my leg on a hedge. My shit coated leg. I really, really, really hoped people would think it was mud. Even though it hasn't rained in weeks.

You know what? It was still a pretty good run, and I still felt good after. And yes, I had to clean the bathroom.

Lunchtime! I won't be running for a few hours, the hedges are safe...for now.

I wanna be mad

I'm not really sure how to express this, I've been feeling angry and frustrated the last few days - since the joint counselling session.

The counsellor has my husband's recovery as her goal. That is her job. She has enlisted me because his odds of recovery are higher if his family supports him. Also part of her job. I've gone to see her 3 times, 4 if you include the aborted session when H was drunk. I am doing my job. The good wife.

I don't want to be the good wife.

I don't want to be involved in his recovery.

I want to be angry, and have that anger be validated, and go on with my life without him.

It feels like helping him involves sacrificing me and what I need to be happy. I know that's an exaggeration, but anything that implies that I want to stay married feels like an imposition right now.

I'm feeling really pressured to see how Hugh does in rehab, and to consider marriage counselling. And it's implied pressure, from his counsellor, as those are the things I'd do if I thought he was going to move back in with me.

He came by yesterday, and brought a ridiculously large stuffed tiger for the puppy, who adorably attacks the tiger. But it makes me angry - I'm trying to declutter, and he keeps showing up with stuff we don't need, and we're supposed to be happy about it. Do I talk to him again about not filling up the house with useless shit? Or do I let go, knowing that I'm not going to be with his useless shit for much longer? Or should I work on that with him? We are going to have some kind of relationship, maybe I should work on getting him to not bring things over.

I know he thinks he's participating in the family by buying stuff. He needs to participate on our terms, not just his. That means finding out stuff he can do with the kids, and we've given him suggestions, not just showing up randomly and giving them stuff they don't want. So yeah, I need to talk to him about the stuff, with the goal of getting him to switch his participation from stuff based to activity based. It doesn't mean never buy anything ever. Just don't make it the main part of your contribution to any relationship.

OK, I feel better now.

Dear husband, will you divorce me?

I had the joint session with the spousal unit today, and I thought it went pretty well.

Neither of us cried, although he was close a couple of times when I noted how he'd hurt us.

We both left with a to-do list. Mine is done already, I've procrastinated enough.

You plan on going to inpatient rehab, and you know you'll be living somewhere else when you come back. Likely a friend who is moving to a 3 bedroom place, and he really only needs 2 (one for his office). That could work out; it'll be better than your situation for the last 6 months, sleeping on a friend's couch and drinking.

This is all good, right? So what's with the title of this post? Shouldn't I be delighted?

Not really. You showed no insight into your drinking, and denied that you'd done anything wrong. You blamed medication for your "symptoms" last week - it wasn't medication. You were fucking pissed. You blamed the kids for not interacting with you, when you refuse to take them anywhere, or arrange to do anything with them, or even sit and ask for a conversation when you're here. We had an OK chat a week and a half ago, before you showed up hammered for our first scheduled joint session. It was unusual, and positive, and hasn't been repeated. You have a habit of showing up when you know I won't be here, usually Sunday mornings. That's kind of shitty, you know.

I started talking to Zoe. She's a lovely, smart, perceptive young woman. And you have virtually no relationship with her. You can only find the negative. It's ridiculous. We are so lucky to have 3 amazing kids, and you can only see it in your sons. Sexism? I don't know. It doesn't really matter why, it's the what that hurts. She already knows you're selfish, and don't respect us, and treat our stuff as if it's yours, and don't listen unless you agree.

I feel disrespected, not because of the drinking, but because of how you've failed to pay any attention to my needs no matter how clearly or how often I expressed them. Mostly around the state of the house - the clutter. Stuff. But also around things like me asking you - begging you - to make dinner for the kids. You're a stay at home parent. That is something you used to do. Why did you stop?

For a long time I've felt like everything is up to me. Now that you're out of the house, it is. It's all up to me. And it's easier and better than when you're here. I don't have to fight to get what I need. I can clean things up without finding them later, hidden in some dark recess of the house. Life is much easier now. Less stressful. I'm in control of things that are important to me, and completely unwilling to give that up.

Can I see us back together? Not now. When I'm with you and I know you're sober and there is no alcohol around, I like you. I'm OK being with you. I remember why I married you back in 1995. I also know how much I've gained these past 7 months in terms of lower anxiety and more happy moments. I'm on a wait list for family therapy, and for the parent program to help the kids with their substance use problems. I'm moving forward with my life much more easily without you than I managed with you. I don't have to tiptoe around your anxieties around stuff and change, I can just do things.

You have money from your dad. Have I told you he keeps asking if he should give it to me instead? That money was meant for the family, and you have kept it. You spent it. On what, you don't know. That's your decision, and it's a selfish one. My money is ours, and yours is yours. This seems to be the pattern with everything - what belongs to your family members belongs to you, and what belongs to you is only yours. It's pretty ugly. I pay all the bills, you wander around buying shit we don't need, and get upset when I'm not delighted with your latest thrift store acquisition.

This is why I want a divorce. Even if you become sober and rebuild a healthy life - and I hope you do - I don't want to go back to tiptoeing around your need to acquire junk, and to keep everything, and to not change, and not try anything. You said in our session today that I do things you don't want to do. I have no idea what things you mean, but it has to be the changes to the house. These are normal things I did. Fixing things that are broken. Cleaning out stuff we don't need, like the extra 5 mandolins or extra 4 stand mixers. Most of this stuff we discussed. Why didn't you express your concerns then? Because you know you're wrong? Instead, you seem to complain to other people about it, but never to me. I can't be a better wife if you don't tell me what hurts you. And now it's too late.

Maybe, once you've been on your own for a bit, and rebuilt relationships with the kids, and your friends, and me, and you have hobbies that are your own, I'll be able to imagine enjoying time with you again. Right now, I can't. I want to move on with my life, sell the house, pay you off, buy my own place and help the kids grow and leave the nest.

The uncertainty is killing me!

What uncertainty, you may ask. The uncertainty around what I should do about my marriage. It's been almost 7 months since he moved out, at my request, and he's still drinking. I don't know if his current lapses are part of a relapse or not - does it matter? We love attaching labels to things, especially medical things, but does the label help? In this case, I don't think so.

We have our joint meeting on Tuesday, and I gave him the letter. The one that says I don't want a divorce, but am not ready to have him back. That tells him the story of the good parts of our marriage, and outlines what he needs to do and tries to explain that I can't promise him a happy ending. I can't. Right now, if I had to decide, I'd end the marriage. But I don't have to decide now, so I live with uncertainty. And I'm asking him to do the same.

I realize the uncertainty makes it more stressful for him, and that he might use that stress as an excuse to drink. That does not make his drinking my fault. Relationships don't come with guarantees. And when you break one, an offer of an attempt at rebuilding is as good as it's going to get.

He went to a friend's brother's funeral drunk. At 10:30 in the morning. This isn't a moral failing, what frustrates me is that he can't look at this and say yes, I have a drinking problem. He looks and says no, I wasn't drinking. Addicts lie. I know that. It doesn't make it feel any better when he does it.

I am so glad he's not living with me. I don't miss him as he is. I do miss the person he was before his addiction took over his life. I don't know if that person will come back. It looked like he would, for a few weeks over Christmas after he got out of the hospital, and for a few weeks in February when he seemed to be staying sober. But I don't want him back if he's sober only part of the time. That isn't good enough. He has to rebuild a life without alcohol. Rebuild his friendships - I hope he didn't lose another one today, thanks to his behaviour. Rebuild his marriage, maybe. I don't know. Maybe it's too broken to rebuild. My dad suggested I consider our marriage over, and decide about starting a new one with him. I think that's a good way of looking at it, for me. I doubt he'd want to see it that way, but I don't have to tell him that's what's working for me - he just needs to know it's going to be a long and uncertain road ahead, and he'll be better off at the end of it, even if it doesn't involve living with me ever again.

Meh

It is a gorgeous spring day, although winter's coming back for the weekend. I find it's best to have low expectations for March weather, then you enjoy the good days instead of ranting about the bad. Although I do that too...

It's been over 6 months now since I asked my alcohol dependent husband to move out. I really thought he'd get his own place, get on a wait list for treatment, and be back by now. Instead, he moved onto a friend's couch, drank like a fish and ended up in hospital after drinking a bottle of cough syrup. Does he think he's a rapper?

The hospital incident did seem to have gotten through to him, he was exploring rehab, and ended up going to see a counselor regularly. She is very good, as far as I can tell, given that my total experience of counseling is seeing her 2 1/2 times.

But but but - we were supposed to go together - and he showed up drunk. He drove there, too. It's probably a lapse, not a relapse, but this feeling of something is horribly wrong and I must cry just won't go away.

I think the uncertainty is getting harder to deal with. I can have certainty if I divorce him, but I'm not sure I want to do that, and given the agony and expense of the d-word, it's not something to do if you're not sure. I am sure, however, that I am not even close to ready to have him back.

What's next, then? Well, as it has been for 6 months, the ball's in his court. He needs to act to deal with his addiction, and replace his alcohol use with a life. Then maybe we can rebuild a life together. And maybe we can't. Either way, it'll be better for him and our kids than things are now.

rain and relationships

It's a lovely rainy day, first one in a while. I had a great 18k run this morning, singing Bowie and feeling so alive.

I've been reading more about living with someone with an addiction, and attended the first of a 2 night education session on addiction. I found a few things helpful. The addiction process they described made sense; the brain, after enough exposure, thinks the substance is a need, hence the cravings and physical symptoms when the addict has been sober for a bit.

It also helped me acknowledge that yes, this is real, but my responsibility is to myself and the kids. If my spouse doesn't want help or refuses to accept it, I can make sure I'm not enabling him by making excuses for him, but I don't have to do anything if I don't want to.

I don't have to kick him out.
I don't have to try to stop his drinking.
I don't have to beg him to pursue treatment.

I am going to give him phone numbers for help, there are options available he won't look up. And I am going to get the boys driving so I am not stuck running all the errands.

His drinking is no better than it was, but my coping is. I am living my life, he can't join in until he is sober because his drinking, and withdrawal when he isn't, have taken his ability to do much of anything. Sucks for him. Doesn't mean the rest of us need to stop our lives, and we haven't. My kids know their dad's drinking sucks. They also know it is not their fault, and they need to keep living their lives.

Fun with freezers

Things I learned emptying our ancient deep freeze:

Plastic bonds with fruit
Crowbars don't separate frozen bags of soup
Old food smells awful
Chipmunks eat freezer crud in the compost
A 7 cubic foot chest freezer produces at least 10 cubic feet of compostable stuff
Even empty, getting those fuckers up the stairs is no fun
Punching youself in the face trying to rip open bags doesn't hurt that much, and the swelling is barely noticeable
Some smells do not wash out of your hands
Concrete can grow mold

and on Christmas Eve eve...

I got mad and said I don't want to spend Christmas with you if you're drinking.

This is getting to feel like I don't want to keep trying. Clearly it is time for a run. Endorphins make everything look better!

Bah, humbug.

Welp, we got through a holiday party boozeless, and it was really nice.

It reminded me of why I married him, and why I am not giving up. But he is not making it easy.

I need to tell him this is not a consequence free choice, it's not life as it is with or without the bottle. I need him sans bottle. Or it'll be sans him.

Stupid alcohol. Why do so many of us have brains that try to drown us in it?

5 days, and then drink

I'll talk to him tomorrow. He went to a friend's house & came home drunk. Not fall down drunk, but wobbly and loud.

He actually followed the furnace salespeople out the door to keep chatting. Kinda funny...

Maybe we should skip Friday's party. I don't want to go if he's going to drink, and I don't trust his words about drinking, his goal seems to be to avoid conversation.

One day at a time. This was not a good one, but there have been worse.

Booze

Life for me is always good, I am a delusional optimist.

But sometimes even I have to admit that some shit is too deep to get out of on your own.

That shit is booze. My spouse drinks too much, and it hurts. It hurts me. It hurts the kids. It hurts his family. Working around his drinking takes so much out of me.

This can't keep on like this. He'll end up smashing the car, or just get sicker and drunker and more awful to live with.

So what am I doing? Talking. To him. To his brother. To my parents. Writing. He has letter #1, the next 2 are drafted. I can't make up his mind, but I can let him know that his drinking is a problem that is hurting many people, and making his kid's anxiety worse.

I have asked to go with him to talk to his doctor. I'm giving him letter 2 today, which just puts this in writing.

I haven't threatened to kick him out. I've thought about it and talked to people about it, but I'm not able to tell him yet. That's going to be hard. I love the dude, boozy though he is, and don't want to lose him to a fucking bottle. But I might.

Talking to people has been awesome. Everyone knows several people who had drinking problems, and sadly, some who died of them. This is such a common and horrible problem, why do we make it worse by attaching shame to it? Fuck shame. That bullshit is used to control us. I mean, yeah, some things are shameful...but not being ill, or having consentual sex, or struggling to stop an addiction, whether it's smoking or alcohol or other drugs.

I don't know how this will go. I told him last night I was sorry I hadn't said anything sooner about his drinking, I was waiting until I was perfect. I meant until I'd dealt with my own red wine binge drinking issue, which, no shit, ended when I quit red wine. Humans are masters of self-delusion. Anyways, I am fine, and I am talking, and he is getting better at listening. Keeping it to how it affects me and the kids and what I want him to not do is direct, pretty easy to get out, and up to 3 days ago useless...but I am not giving up.

Letter #2. May #3 end up shredded.

Cleaning can result in bong water messes

I do have a weekend cleaning routine, although it fails to ever result in a clean house.

I also have a parenting style best described as denial light. My kids probably do things I wouldn't be thrilled about, but they seem so happy it can't be worth worrying about, right?

Wrong-o. Whilst putting away my 16 year old son's clothing, I realized he'd left a sweatshirt on the floor behind his clothes. It was wet. Odd, I thought, as I pulled it out. Then leapt back as a giant bong tipped over, splashing bong water all over me and the floor.

Turns out the bong belongs to his brother. Who is 13.

Denial. Not the right tool for parents of toking teens.

On the plus side, giant bong would make a good band name, but nuclear fungus is still my favourite.

Nuclear family

I am now a proud member of a 2 parent 2 kids at home nuclear family. Teen daughter decided, after 15 years with younger brothers, to head to the Canadian university that is second-farthest from home; UBC.

Pluses I anticipated: less laundry, one bedroom that remains tidy.

Pluses not materializing: cleaner bathrooms. Turns out it's bad aim from the boys that makes my weekend cleaning routine revolting.


The minus is missing my lovely, intelligent and funny daughter, and of course I was expecting that. But I also ignored it, as I didn't want to spend my summer being sad she was leaving.

I was feeling sorry for myself as I headed out to the Vancouver airport, then I saw an older guy tell his son they were at their stop. He wheeled his middle-aged son off the Skytrain, and I realized how enormously lucky I am to be able to drop my child off at university. Privilege can be invisible if you don't look for it, or recognize it as privilege when you see others who are less fortunate.

Now I am feeling lucky, and broke, and ready for a school year with only 2 kids at home. I'm going to blog more, now that this network actually works with an iPad! Maybe I'll even blog about the raging sexism in the atheist blogosphere, which is the part of the internet I spend much of my online time visiting. Although apparently saying guys, don't do that is likely to result in substantial abuse. Ah well, that assumes anyone reads this!

Happy end of summer, imaginary readers.

A review of the iMac. Sort of.

Yesterday I spend just over $2,000 of the credit card company's money on a shiny new 27" iMac.

I did this after work, or what passes for work the week before Christmas. Yes, I am "working" now.

I take the bus to work this time of year - too snowy and cold to cycle with any degree of enjoyment for me, although I see the odd cyclist. And by odd, I mean they are odd. Ottawa winters are not for cycling.

So I took the bus downtown from work to the Apple store, which was full of red shirted genies (that's the plural of genius, right?), one of whom sold me an iMac. I was smart - I asked how much it weighed. He told me 47 pounds. I figured that's not too heavy to lug home on the bus.

It is.

Here's what I can state with confidence about the 27" iMac.

1. The box is quite sturdy.

2. If you lean a bit away from the side carrying it, it won't hit the ground if you are at least 5'6" tall.

3. The handle is strong enough to hold the weight, even if you take it on and off 3 buses and walk 6 blocks with it.

4. It is heavy. 47 pounds, apparently.

5. It is not portable, even with the aforementioned handle.

6. Picking it up in both arms, ignoring the handle, does not improve its portability. It remains an object intended to be stationary. Not stationery - it is not a paper product, although the box is made out of cardboard.

If you're thinking of buying a 27" iMac, I strongly recommend you avoid public transit while it is in its pre-desk phase. Unlike me, you are probably not too cheap to spend $2k on a computer but not $25 on a cab ride. Or $0.50 on a phone call to your Lexus-driving spouse.

Merry Christmas. Enjoy the return of the light, which is the true reason for the season. And don't hit baby Jesus with sticks - Kenny Loggins wouldn't approve. Read this if you don't know why.

Yak Herding

Life can occasionally get bat shit insane. Right now mine is feeling on the verge of bat shit insanity. Let's call it bat shit odd.

Child 2 has some sort of leg pain, which could be complex regional pain syndrome, or not. Basically there's no physical reason for the pain, but he's debilitated by it regardless. This does not make me feel like a good parent.

Child 1 is having panic attacks. Second one this week was at 8am this morning, she called from school. I remained calm and told her to breath slowly. Not sure how she is. Her boyfriend has a tendency to text her at night that he's going to kill himself. If he doesn't stop, he won't need to kill himself. His phone will be so far up his ass he'll have other concerns. Nice kid. But my daughter is not his suicide prevention line.

Spouse is looking a wee mite like he's getting into another manic episode, and is on the "Western medicine only treats symptoms" meme. Pinning him down to find out what's going on in that giant head of his is like, to steal a phrase, nailing jello to a wall. Not happening. Needs to happen.

What is my plan of attack?

1. Spend time with suffering kiddies in highly relaxed way, in hopes it will ease anxiety and alleviate symptoms (pain, panic)
2. Tell spouse he'd better get his ass to his doc or psychiatrist, as he can't stay with us if he descends into madness
3. Failing 1 and 2, move to Ulan Batar and herd yaks.

I'm concerned about option 3, as I don't like smelly animals and I do love me some indoor plumbing. Yet it holds a strange appeal right now.

Maybe I need an option 4. Steal daughter's prescription for benzodiazapans. Drug spouse once I decide if my suspicions of impending mania are correct. Cause denial is going to fail epically, and I'm guessing my yak herding skills would make me unemployed in Mongolia.

Flaming ass cups

My son has a hip problem. He's had an MRI and 2 x-rays, but no diagnosis, so naturally my husband took him to accupuncture.

I've done some reading about accupuncture - about its true history, not the myth that it's been practiced in China for 6,000 years therefore must be right. About results of clinical trials looking at how effective it is for various conditions. About the total absence of evidence for meridians or qi or whatever you want to call the hypothesis behind the accupuncture points.

My distillation of this reading is that accupuncture has a powerful placebo effect, and needling can have some beneficial impact on pain perception. But it doesn't have a curative effect. I don't expect it to help with my son's very real and very debilitating hip pain - either time will, or the physicians will diagnose the cause and fix it. I refuse to believe that this debility will be permanent.

Where do flaming ass cups fit into this? Well, his second accupuncturist - the first one's in China - applied flaming cups to his ass. I think the idea behind cupping is that it draws toxins out. Yeah, in the same way a hickey does - it doesn't, it causes bruising. So I am now doubly skeptical of this particular mode of treatment, as my opinion is that applying flaming cups to a 14 year old boy's bare butt is closer to pedophelia than medicine. Git yer flamin' cups off my kid's ass, quack!

Flaming ass cups would be an awesome name for a band.

...and another thing that irritates me about religion

I'm an atheist. This means I don't believe in any of the gods humankind has proposed to explain the world. None of 'em.

In all honesty, I'm trying to be all liberal and accomodating about religion, but really I think if you're religious, you aren't thinking hard enough. I think I'm right, and if you disagree, well, you must be wrong. One of my favourite bloggers, slacktivist, is religious. But his non-religious thinking is brilliant (mostly), and I love reading his blog. It's helped me understand that you can be religious, and think profoundly about your religion, and not be a bigot, and be a most excellent person. But I still think religion has some major issues and not enough religious people are willing to discuss them.

My point? I do have one. I just can't segue into it nicely. I dislike the conservatism of religion. I dislike the misogyny that goes along with that conservatism. The current pope, Benedict, has said it's sinful to rape kids and to ordain women, and they are in the same level of sin. Being ignorant of the finer points of Catholic dogma, I don't know if he really means they are equally wrong, but he did make it clear both are seriously bad.

So he runs an institution that says women can't have employment equity. That this is wrong, a sin, and a big one. Yet the church gets charitable status, so we are, with our tax dollars, supporting an institution that says it doesn't have to follow the law. This is wrong. If an organization wants to apply for tax-exempt status, it should be required to follow all laws. If it does not wish to follow these laws, it should have to file tax returns and pay tax, if there is income after expenses, on that income.

Our wimpy politicians are afraid of insulting religion. Asking people who claim to be moral authorities to follow the law doesn't seem insulting to me. Failing to do so? I'm insulted. Enough that it makes me suspicious of all religous people. Even though I'm trying to be tolerant.

Thoughts about colons

There are 2 kinds of colons. That I know of. One is a punctuation mark, and the other one ends in an orifice that kind of ressembles a punctuation mark.

This post is about the latter type of colon. Specifically, about the delights of ensuring your colon remains cancer-free.

I have a family history of colon cancer, on both sides. We've been diligent at getting screened, and the only person to die of colon cancer was 91 at the time - as they generally stop screening around age 80 on the theory that a colon cancer starting then won't have time to kill you before something else does, this should in no way reflect on said relative,s screening diligence. Although I have no idea if they screened or not!

Few things induce the ick more than the thought of a long anal probe. Really - admit it - you have to think for at least 2 minutes before you can come up with something that doesn't involve eating horrible things on Fear Factor. Maybe getting uncontrollable diarhea while in a toilet-free zone. That would be pretty bad.

So I'd like to blog my experience with said long anal probe. Because it wasn't that bad. Maybe I was expecting far worse, based on a couple of episodes of House, which as we all know is 100% medically accurate at all times.

The prep starts a couple of days in advance, with some dietary restrictions. I think it was seeds and nuts - they don't want them clogging the instrument. Neither do I. I'd like any probing to be as, um, smooth as possible. So I avoided seeds and nuts.

The next step is having a tiny breakfast before 8am the day before the procedure. This is your last solid food, and, for me far more sinister, your last hit of caffeine. So I got up early and had my normal bowl of cereal and 2 lovely cups of coffee. Fresh ground beans, French press coffeemaker - the usual.

Then I got to drink my first of 2 doses of Peco-Salex. I may be spelling that wrong. It's a fizzy orange drink, made from some powder. It draws liquid into the colon, thus inducing frequent bowel movements. So you can't go anywhere that is toilet-free, unless the scenario above with uncontrolled diarhea actually appealed to you. In that case, you don't need a colon inspection, you need psychiatric help. Good luck with that.

So the frequent liquid BM is actually not that bad. I mean, there is a finite quantity of crap in your colon, and even if you are a politician, it doesn't impact the shit in your head.

What is bad is hunger. We aren't used to hunger. OK, I'm not. Except in the gee I'm hungry let me get food kind of way. But hunger in the I can't eat until 2:00pm tomorrow is outside my experience, and I don't like it. This is coming from someone who frequently forgets to eat. Substitute a worse or better ability to tolerate hunger based on your own fasting experience, assuming you have any.

The second dose is not a big deal. You're pretty much empty. It's insurance for the gastro enterologist, who has no interest in, um, muddying their view with a poorly cleaned colon. I have no interest in a muddy view - I want a nice clean effective scope, so I was keen on following the instructions to the letter, so as to avoid a repeat procedure.

The next morning I woke up hungry. Wah, wah, millions of kids are used to that, but I'm a spoiled first world middle class type, so I am not. At least not waking up hungry and then not being able to eat. Spousal unit drove me to the clinic, I brought a book which had far too many food references (avoid Donna Leon if you're fasting), and eventually got to put on that delightful gown I'm sure was designed by Armani. Then a nurse stuck an IV into my hand - clearly highly experienced, it was not as painful as the ones I got when having my first child. The sedatives were lovely.

I was wheeled into the room with a monitor, doctor and nurse/aide of some sort. I wasn't about to start interviewing them. The monitor was positioned so I could watch, and I did. The drowsiness from the sedative lifted immediately upon insertion of the probe. But it didn't hurt, it's just that I could feel it. I felt full. But there was no pain, not even any real discomfort, it didn't last very long, and I was complemented twice on the quality of my "prep".

Oh, and if all you need to do is fecal occult blood testing, I used the technique where you collect the sample from the toilet paper. Googling techniques for stool samples is an, um, interesting insight into the ingenuity of humanity.

To sum up: colon cleansing makes you hungry, colon scoping is more boring than anything else, and the internet is full of odd ideas.

Bicycle gear

I've been cycling to work since I last blogged. It's been great.

Cycling involves a fair bit of delusion. I pretend I am saving money by riding in. True, I am no longer paying bus fare, and we are down to 1 car.

But that ignores a key part of the equation. Bike gear. There is an astonishing array of items cyclists can spend money on. I've been restrained since mother's day, when I caved in and bought clipless pedals and shoes. They are amazing.

Now I have a dilemma. For my birthday I got a new to me bicycle, picked up cheap at a garage sale, that I tested by riding in today. I wasn't sure what I was hoping - that it would be so much better I could justify spending money on it? That it would be so much worse I could let my daughter use it? It turns out to be a very decent little commuter bike, surprisingly fast, with great brakes and the noisiest gearing I've ever used.

So here is the dilemma. To make the bike suit me, it needs a new seat ($23), new pedals ($44), new tires ($46) and of course a spare tube ($3). Not a huge amount of money. But the bike itself cost $85, which is an amazing deal for a mid range Bianchi, but spending nearly double fixing it up when it's virtually unridden seems frivolous.

I also thought about the gear I have.

3 pairs of cycling shoes, ranging in age from 2 months to 20 years.
2 cycling jackets
1 pair of cycling shorts
Many t-shirts
4 panniers - maybe 6
Several lights, bells, reflectors not including those already on bicycles
2 pairs cycling tights, both over 20 years old and in excellent shape if you ignore the hole
Helmet - only 1, the old ones get tossed
Gloves

I haven't got cycling jerseys or other cycle-specific tops - really, how much lycra can a middle aged woman wear? And I am considering getting baggier shorts, the lycra ones, while comfortable, are, well, lycra. Tight shorts with a padded butt may not be my best look. Although I like to think I speed by so quickly no-one can tell.

Like I said, cycling involves delusion.

Spring cycling

Spring is really early this year. Really early - normally, our highs are still below freezing until well into March, but it's been above freezing every single day since February 26th.

That means the snow has melted, and it's rained so the dog poo of winter has washed away. Time for cycling!

When I last saw my bicycle, it had brand new slick tires and tubes to match - all set to go. And go we did.

First, the good things about the ride. It was sunny. There was minimal traffic, including other cyclists. No dog walkers. Few runners. Not that I mind either - but the paths can get crowded, and a small minority of dog walkers have trouble with the leash concept.

Now, a couple of mediocre things. I didn't wear warm enough gloves, and my hands froze to the point that it hurt when they warmed up. Chalk that up to idiocy - it's still below freezing at sunrise. This I know. Yet I grabbed thin gloves meant for the SUV driver, not the cyclist. One section of the path had a fair bit of snow, which my lovely new tires handled quite nicely. One had ice and slush, which I cautiously rode/hopped over - you know, you're on your bike, but pushing with a foot instead of pedaling. They actually had a "road under water" sign up - very cool, as it's pretty much a bike-only road. And, last but definitely not least, a good 4km of the bike path is under construction, so I had to ride on the road. A very nice road, but at this time of year the sides of the roads are covered in gravel and winter ick, so you need to ride closer to traffic than normal.

And, to end, a few more good things! I saw a street sweeper, so the road ick will soon be gone. My back tire held up well, despite being wobbly - I think the tube is bulging. And my helmet doesn't hurt the sore spot on my head where I bashed it when I fainted on Sunday. I'm really looking forward to the ride home - it's going up to 16!

I'm very happy I rode in. It is so awesome to be on a bicycle. There is nothing else like it. For me, it's the closest I get to flying, and who hasn't dreamed of flying?