January 30, 2003
TOO much kinesiology!
Four hours of hip flexors, extenders and their frickin' origins, insertions, actions, resistives, inhibitions and stretches has me brain dead.
I really like learning about muscles and how to massage them, I REALLY do! But, dang it sometimes I just can't wrap my overworked mind around another question.
Do I really care where my piriformis originates?
January 25, 2003
my dear housemates are leaving, so soon!
Terra and Yoni are off on a grand roadtrip in the fabulous Morgan Texas Hoffman. They will end up in upstate NY, where they will work at the Omega Institutefor the summer.
I have so enjoyed getting to know them. I had just gotten used to Terras amazing, beautiful, colorful veggie stir fry lunches filling the house with chipotle pepper fumes so thick and pungent the whole household sneezes and coughs for hours. I will also miss Yonis humus, snuggling up watching movies and having hyperanimated-FREAK ME OUT-get a little coffee in me and I'll talk about anything-conversations with Terra.
I wish them so much goodness and love in their new adventures. May Yoni do many healings and may there be blue kitchen counters in Terras future.
January 17, 2003
Personally, I'd rather go to the dentist-which isn't too funny considering I have to get a filling next week.
I had a mammogram yesterday. My doctor recommended it because I have 'lumpy' breasts(always have).
The anticipation was grim, I'd heard a lot about the horrendous breast-squashing mammograph machines.
First of all, on the way to the bus, I realized I had NO CHANGE! I rushed into Sudden Printing and Kris changed my $20 in a hurry, but as I raced towards the bus stop, the sinking feeling in my belly told me I wouldn't make it across the hellish Lake City Way traffic in time. Sure enough, I made it across just in time for the bus driver to look at me blankly as he slowly turned up Northgate Way. So, I had to walk from Lake City to NW hospital. It took me 43 minutes-I made it, out of breath, but precisely in time for my appointment.
The ultrasound wasn't TOO bad. The technician, Jennie, was nice, the gel was warm and I got to see cool video of the inside of my breasts. Then she took me to the mammography room.
The machine was formidable. It loomed at least 7 feet tall in an isolated corner of the room. Jennie adjusted the photoplate to the level of my breasts and proceeded to move my body into perhaps the most uncomfortable and hazardous position I have ever been in. Then she lowered the plastic squashing tray...
All I can say is, I've heard of flat-chested, and I would not even be TOO surprised to hear the term applied to my own humble endowment, but-sweet Lord above!-no breast should ever be THAT flat! I mean, we're literally talking PANCAKE here! Yeeouch!
So, she calmly explains to me that she will be taking two views of each breast. One horizontal, one vertical.
I made it through the first three with remarkable equanimity, considering that if anyone else tried to do that to my BREAST I'd smack them upside the head with the nearest hard metal object(of which there were quite a few)and run screaming bloody murder!
As she set me up for the last one, however, I began to feel strange... She extended and flexed my left arm, draped it up and over the plate, then moved my right arm down and forward in the favored position for complete breast exposure and victimization. My neck was bent and twisted over the plastic squasher tray(bear with me, this becomes more important in a moment). When she finished manhandling me(I remember weakly joking with her about objecting to the wretched positioning as a future massage therapist)she retreated to her position of safety behind the x-ray shielding on the other side of the room.
I recall listening for the beep of the x-ray, thinking: Hmmm... I feel a little dizzy...I hope it beeps soon... so I can go sit down... and have a drink of water-
I came to on the floor. I dimly heard someone yelling for help as I began to return from some sort of timeless alternate reality space where I'd been talking to a person who vanished as my brain began to reassemble the aspects of the situation at hand. It was very disorienting and seemed to take a long time. For a few moments I wondered why I was halfnaked on the floor...Then sense came back and I understood who all the people applying cold, wet cloths to my head and wrapping blankets around me were and what must have happened.
The doctor said: "It's a fairly common reaction to faint during breast compressions." My thought: Breast compressions, well then, that makes it all sound so reasonable! Apparently, times of shock and stress don't effect the part of my brain that is devoted to sarcastic remarks, albeit silent ones.
Then everyone except Jennie left. She was pretty flustered. She wanted to check my neck, saying she thought it had caught on the tray as I fell. I let her do so, noticing with some confusion the rather large crack in the plastic squasher tray as she did so. She announced that the cut on my neck wasn't serious, just a scratch.
I said, somewhat aghast: "So I BROKE the machine when I fell?!?" Meaning: YOU MEAN MY FACE HIT THE TRAY WITH ENOUGH FORCE TO BREAK THE GODDAMN THING!?!
She, obviously wrongly interpreting my concern, said soothingly: "Oh no, it's OK, the machine is fine. We have plenty of extra trays."
After a while, I felt like I might not fall over again if I attempted to get up off the floor. I was right. After I got dressed, Jennie returned to ask if I was OK and to tell me the film came out so I could now leave.
Having gone through all that, I wasn't about to leave without seeing the damn x-rays and I -politely- told her so. So the doctor showed me the pictures and even bothered to explain that there was no sign of anything wrong with my normal, lumpy breasts. Grrreat!
So I wandered out to the bus stop, feeling rather shocky. I had half-a-freezing-cold hour to wait for the next 302, so I ate my sandwich, noticing as I did so that my jaw hurt. Then I called D. for some much needed sympathy.
Two buses later, I was home.
Kind of makes you wonder about hospitals, doesn't it? Do they keep extra trays around just in case women accidentally break them with their FACES? And, If that is the case, why the fuck don't they warn you of the likelyhood of passing out from 'breast compression' and just be prepared to catch you?
January 11, 2003
This is actually my moms dimple, I inherited it along with her chipmunk cheeks, but I think it looks cutest of all on Sammy.
My sweet shy boy.
Here comes Sam!
Samadhi Benjamin Zamarin Edson-Pasley just leapt into his fifth year!
Is the world ready for this much wild sweetness?
January 04, 2003
New Years Angel pics
I added pictures of my angel sculpture to my New Years Ceremony post.
This was so cool! As I burst out of my dream this morning I just had to blurt it all out to D. He was halfasleep, but was very, very sweet as I babbled it all out to him.
I find it's much easier to remember them later if I tell someone all about them ASAP.
First, I should give a little background. At my old house, we had this across-the-street neighbor, Erik. He looked like a total mountain man, kinda burly, with bushy red hair and beard. When Sam and I went out for walks we'd often see him hanging out in mechanics coveralls, working on an old truck, or gardening. He was friendly in a pretty laidback, somewhat gruff manner. He loved to see Sam, but never pushed for more interaction from him. I really liked him and we often lingered to play by his driveway.
Anyway, in my dream, I was getting ready to go out, when someone said: "Look, smoke-something is on fire!" Sure enough, I looked out over the neighborhood and there was Erik's house-burning up!
Half the roof was gone, there were lots of people running about, pulling books and shelves and miscellaneous junk(his house was full of stuff-his wife was a Christian Mary Kay saleswoman and collected lots of things)out of the house. Erik was up on what was left of the roof, making a mighty effort to put out the fire. I ran down to help. I began to organise the stuff that was strewn about, piling things into baskets and boxes and delegating people to carry them away from the smoke and ashes.
Sometime later, the fire was out and the community gathered around. They were talking about raising money to help the family. I stepped up to the front of the group, to offer my house in case they needed a place to stay the night. A very beautiful and gracious woman, representing the family, thanked me and I gave her my number with some difficulty due to the blotchiness of the pen I had to write with.
Back at home, I told everyone-as often happens at my house there were quite a few folks staying there already-that we may have guests. Terra, Yoni, Daniel and a few other friends welcomed the idea, Sam was a little nervous, and Ben was a bit chagrined when I told him he might have to go home.
We were all getting ready to go somewhere on a big ol' hippiemobile schoolbus. We'd all loaded in, when I saw a bunch of people coming over to the door. Ben said: "Let's just go, they won't see us." But I got off the bus immediately and Daniel came with me.
Eriks family had decided to stay in their old house, I guess the bedrooms hadn't burned through. But the old grandmother needed a place to sleep that night.
She was an extraordinary person. There was a lot of folksy grandmotherliness about her, but there was more, too. She radiated a presence, like a priestess of some old pagan religion. Her long grey hair was coiled in a bun and fastened up with a huge knife-rather like a butcher knife. I was instantly captivated by her. Clearly this was a person of great wisdom. She sat on a folded cloth on the grass in her flowery old woman outfit, presiding over my yard with all the potency of a buddha about to deliver a teaching.
I was so excited that she was going to come into my home and stay the night. I knelt by her to tell her I had to leave, that all the people on the bus were waiting for me and I asked her what time she would be coming back and told her that I was greatly looking forward to listening to her stories that night. I also told her that if the spare futon on the floor would be difficult for her to rise from, she was welcome to sleep in my bed and D and I would happily take the futon. He nodded, squatting and reaching out his hands in offering.
She took our hands, accepting the offer. As she thanked us, she brushed her hand back over her face and hair and the knife fell out, slashing across her face. I gasped and reached towards her again-but there was no blood, no cut.
She smiled mischieviously as her hair fell smoothly around her face.
I woke, startled and joyous. I rolled over into Ds arms and proceeded to spill it out all over him, as he told me he loved me with great and sleepy fervor.
It was a lovely way to begin the day.
back to school
Everybody goes back to school on Monday. Sam, me AND Daniel! Not to mention our friends, Jess, and even Cara is going back to school.
It was a nice long break for me. A little too long...I don't feel quite ready to hit anatomy/physiology/kinesthesiology and massage theory yet. Can't I just rub people?
Naw. It's really pretty damn cool learning how our bodies are put together and how massage can effect all that. I'm excited to go back. I'm just not really ready for the upcoming test-yikes!
Guess I'd better hit the books...
At least I don't have to get up as early as D! He's got technical writing first thing in the morning-poor lad. Maybe we'll finally start going to bed at a decent hour.
Prolly not. I'd better get him a LOT of coffee.