September 13, 2005

A week of long hours and cameraderie and barbecue. I lost some pounds at a KC Weigh-in (probably a different screen calibration) and narrowly missed obligatory Karaoke while ordering beef stew chow fon for takeout. I was a good girl and took all my antibiotic since I developed fluid in my lungs the week before my trip.

My final night in Kansas City was interesting. Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan was on some HBO spinoff channel. Then a third evening of thunderstorms. Except this one took two hours. The Weather Channel was watching KC closely. It seems that instead of crossing the city, the length of the front traveled through it at an angle.

It was horrendous and constant. Then, the fire alarm went off. I thought it was a tornado warning and freaked. With jellied knees and a pounding heart, I went for my pants. I turned on the TV. "Trying to establish signal." I had the presence of mind to dial the front desk. They assured me that the fire alarm sometimes triggers when thunder is close. It was tough going to bed after that. It must have been two or three hours of sleep total when the clock went off at 5am. Finishing off my packing and grabbing a leftover rib dinner from the hotel staff freezer, my ride was ready to take me to Union Station.

Once there at 6:15am, there was news that the train was delayed by an hour. When the ticket counter opened at half past six, I found that for a fraction of the cost, I could upgrade to a sleeper on the Southwest Chief. I went for it. [more]

DD 3:47pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

They buckled. They caved. After successful training sessions by phone, they agreed to send me to the Kansas City office by train...

On the east coast Amtrak trains, there is an outlet beneath every window. Clearly half of the riders took advantage of this, with laptops and DVD players everywhere. It's likely that several were going off to college.

Everything started off okay. We arrived and left stations to the minute. We were past Albany, where we were allowed to get out and stretch while baggage was unloaded and loaded (they call these "smoking stops").

Over the course of the evening, I got to know my "roomate" who shared our seats. He was a photographer from Edgewater New Jersey, originally from Seoul Korea. He was planning to stay with friends in Chicago, then go on to Washington State via the Empire Builder. A row ahead and the aisle opposite was a tall Black man into old movies, and a very kind but tolerant. She was a good listener though, even if it was apparent (to me from where I sat) that she didn't know anywhere near as many old movies to keep up.

Viewliner coach car 25100 during "smoke stop"

We slowed down at some point and thought it was Rochester. Another hour and a half or so would be Buffalo. Then we'd head west...

...There are two routes Amtrak runs from NYC to Chicago. One first goes down to Washington D.C. and the other up to Buffalo. There is no direct route to Kansas City. The route I took runs daily nonstop to Chicago and is called the Lakeshore Limited... [more]

DD 2:14pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

I love the way your phone brings out your abs.

Aheh... Well, it was a cyst, and about 11 years to the week, the same hand specialist who removed one from another finger on the other hand performed the procedure on my thumb. For hours it felt like the size of a house LOL. Now the skin on my thumb is tight. Does that make sense?

DD 1:15pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

When I started the year, I was resigned to the prospects of dying by 50. By the middle of the year I decided to fight back. I've lost 30 lbs so far, with over three times that to go by goal. Before then in September 2005 I may attend a Cybertown reunion in Atlanta. Health permitting. It would certainly be interesting to see how that affects my life in cyberspace...

The predatory women would despise me if they carried any unprovoked notions. The ones who treated me like crap and rejected proposals automatically because I was male would have their own reckoning.

The community lotharios will be dumb enough to throw me lines. Who are they kidding?

There would be casualties. There always are. Someone who from out of the blue once confided in me about a prostate condition... a buddy from the UK would be no less thrown. As friendly as he is to anyone on an equal basis, I know the latter's culture dictates a buddy bond which simply would not otherwise exist. Violating the buddy bond is beyond a secret social offence. Running afoul of the buddy bond is that which I fear the most. I've been through both scenarios before; I know.

This factor is just as important as my physical condition by that time in determining whether I attend.

But I digress...

In August after an apparently deadly mix of Diet Sprite and honeydew melon I developed symptoms each time I ate anything with fruit and many raw vegetables. In time I've been able to reintroduce 99% of lost vegetables, but fruit remains on my forbidden list.

A recent visit to a throat specialist revealed unusual symptoms during the onset of bronchitis - and a definite decline in my singing ability - were evidence of reflux. I had plenty of it in early 2001 after having gotten off a 7-month stint of Naprosyn, as well as any time I failed to refill certain supplements. It came back in full force in August for a few weeks with the onset of fruit problems. But this doctor - who's majorly handsome (which got me through his exam of numbing my pharynx to slip a little tube into my throat by way of a nostril) - suggests that reflux during sleep might be the culprit here. As one of my CT friends would say: "Eck!"

More about that and an ominous lump at the base of my thumb in a future entry.

DD 1:12pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

Mount Ararat Cemetery was easy enough to get to - we attended an unveiling.

For those of you who live either under a rock or in a part of the USA which makes you think no other culture or faith exists: one year after an observant Jew's death, the headstone is unveiled in a ceremony on site.

Since I never attend the family Thanksgiving, here was a prime opportunity to see my mom's side of the family. Following the ceremony we were to meet at a nearby diner; for me it meant catching up on old times.

Well, it was partly our faults. Dad and I have this punctuality-efficiency thing happening. With the simple directions, we were among the first out of the cemetery gate. We drove a few miles and realized we weren't running into Sunrise Highway. I suggested stopping in a service station, but you know males; Dad conveniently didn't hear those times I suggested it.

We went around the area a great deal. Thing is the map seldom resembled the actual junction of roads and landmarks in places. It also didn't help that at times when we were going north and away from Sunrise Highway, Dad insisted we were going south.

I told him I could get us to Sunrise Highway, but not via the roads we were told. With map in hand, I instructed Dad onto a never-mentioned Straight Path Road and we did it. At the intersection - where we were initially told to make a right, I looked left briefly just in case and saw no diner. We made our right turn and naturally there was no diner along our side either. We decided to go to one called The Omega on Lakeville Road instead.

We were heading west, but Dad thought we had to turn around. A brief maneuver up a ramp confirmed that to keep moving towards Queens we had to re-enter the same side of Sunrise Highway in order to continue on our way and catch the Wantaugh Parkway.

After putting on her best behavior for Dad's successful 80th birthday party last week, Mom was back to her old tricks at the Omega: complaining about the food, mouthing off conspicuously, etc. I was too tired and hungry to care.

DD 1:07pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

New offensive type.

This time the guy is Black. He pulled the same shit those little old ladies do by stuffing himselfinto a seat too small for him. Here I am on the day I celebrated losing 25 pounds and this jerkoffis barely keeping me from falling off. Yes I know 100 years ago men couldn't sit on trains and ladies had priority seating. But this guy with the little old lady habits... Psst: I think he either hates those which were not born with dicks or a racist - or BOTH!

Welp - karma will hit him between the eyes when he least expects it. Probably blame it on White people or women and he'll never think back on his tyrannical and cowardly behavior (he's oppressing some one at least a head shorter than himself the fucking bully). Also I think he's drunk. Also he tried to fall asleep against me.

Should I get a picture?

Woo I'm feeling lucky!

DD 12:58pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

Oh great - I have a big fat perve standing near me on a crowded train.

The LIRR is not running to or from Penn Station due to some sort of tunnel fire so the Long Island trash is riding the trains.

Wait lemme get some shots...

DD 12:48pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

This morning was interesting to say the least. I hadn't eaten a thing since 8pm last night and didn't wake up early enough to justify a liquid breakfast. The place must have taken me in for the test at noon. A year ago I couldn't move or position myself the way I was asked to here. Got royal treatment too: both a technician and a doctor resided and the stuff didn't taste half bad.

Ohhhh here we go again. Some guy practically sitting on me. Lemme take a pic. And he reeks! What's this about guys reeking and crowding women on trains?!

Anyway I was going to eat out some brunch, but I think I'll pick up the Milk of Magnesia as advised and go right home. As it is I have to pee and it's not liable to subside since l'll be downing lots of fluids.

I can't believe it's taken this long to get tested...

DD 12:46pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

I'm sitting in City Coffee on the first autumn-cool morning we've had. It's windy courtesy of Ivan and 52 F.

The past three months have been interesting to say the least. The office started its own weight loss meetings and so far I've lost 18 pounds and a clothing size. It's easier to walk and slowly I am regaining my agility.

But you know me; there's always something else to add to the list as soon as a problem is crossed off.

It started on Sunday August 22. Our sites relaunched with a revision of our subscription plans. In an executive move which we all knew would cripple us, we were downgraded to a new, inferior version of our message handling system earlier in the week. Emails were piling up and here I was at the office on a Sunday to do last minute beta testing, delete leaks from the boards, and answer as much backlogged correspondence for two countries as possible.

There was free food in the kitchen. Most of the breakfast food was gone, so I grabbed some melon and a Diet Sprite. My stomach bubbled and gurgled for like an hour from that combination!

And from then on, things changed.

I've since pinpointed the aggravating foods. When I eat most raw or undercooked vegetables, ANY kind of fruit or juice or even fruit flavored thing, I feel a pain in my back above my left kidney shortly after swallowing. The symptoms don't make sense. An initial sonogram is negative. I saw a gastroenterologist last week who was thoroughly rude and made an unabashed smirk when I gave him my medical history and mentioned "alternative."

Considering he was on the South Beach Diet, he wasn't in a position to put on airs.

DD 12:38pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

I should add that June 12th was also my Grandmother's would-be 100th birthday.

Granma was something else. She ran her own hat shop in the 1920's in Strasbourg France. The bulk of Mom's side is from that area: Alsace Lorraine. She and Mom have referred to it as either "The Side of France," which makes sense as Strasbourg borders the Rhine, or "The South of France," for reasons I can't figure. I just couldn't tell which they were saying. I was surprised to see that Granma's birth certificate had her born in Strasbourg, Germany.

Anyway, many years later, as one would expect from such a potentially disputed region, the Nazis came. Granma by then was a widow with two kids. Traversing the Alsatian countryside with the kids and a sick mother, a widow steered them clear of German Shepherds and soldiers and kept them fed.

Most of the family went back to Strasbourg once the war ended. But Granma's brother was already in the U.S. (he came during the 1920's) and sponsored them to come on over. I've always known her to be a rather pompous woman, but she was more than entitled.

When she died about six years ago, it affected me more than I expected. I had been more the magick practitioner at the time and for one year - until her unveiling - I could not visualize colors during my relaxation exercises.

So on Sunday the 13th, Dad indulged me by taking us to Granma's favorite jernt, the Flagship restaurant in Jamaica. Its my belief to be in a place the departed one enjoyed and reminisce. Between Mom's predictably childish complaints, Dad told me the story of how he met them in the Catskills back in the 50's. It was a nice time considering.

DD 12:31pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005

They've been around for almost three years.

Those pointy, Wicked Witch of the West things.

Why?

They defy human anatomy. Women jam their feet into them and their toes are still half out; you can usually see the beginning of their toes. So support wise they're useless, since half the foot isnt even covered. Please don't tell me this is a fashion statement because I don't buy it.

DD 12:27pm EST on Tuesday, Sep 13, 2005