The Sometimes Annual Snowfall Rant- SNOW REMOVAL

Hey there! You guys know me. You know I have some medical issues... chronic pain (fibro and rheumatoid arthritis), I've got some foot issues too (tendinitis and plantar fasciitis), there's tendinitis in my shoulder, and I've had both knees replaced (one almost eight years ago, the other about seven months ago). I even had carpal tunnel surgery in both hands! 

And I have weather-induced asthma.
I call this look "Stagecoach Robber Chic"

And if you know me like you do, you know that I have a huuuuge pet peeve. I really, really hate it when people don't clear the snow off their vehicles before driving them. Look, I understand if you're disabled. Heck, I'm very familiar with disabled people.

Well, this one anyway.

Unless you're disabled and without someone to help or recently injured or surgeried up, I get it. Clearing the snow is just hard work. But if you're at all mobile- like me, I still walk with a slight limp. If you can walk and stand, odds are that you can clear the damn snow off your car. Here... look at my vehicle. That's a 2012 Chevrolet Colorado.

His name is Blueberry.

And, in just about ten or fifteen minutes, I made him look like this!

His name is still Blueberry.

But wait! I can hear you say right now: "C'mon, Pahz, I don't have a fancy brush that can reach the top of my vehicle!" Sure, I get you- you live in an area that gets snow on a nearly annual basis. Multiple times a year. I get you, man. Those brushes are long and don't fit in your car very well. But I bet you own something else. Something magical. Something amazing!!

How amazing? This thing is so amazing that you can use it for different things! It sweeps! It pushes dirt around! It doesn't quite get all of that spilled sugar up onto the dustpan! But I guarantee you that it'll get the snow off your vehicle!

What is that item called?

BEHOLD!! THE MIGHTY BROOM!!

"Oh, yeah. I guess I do have one of those," you say, dejectedly.

I took this simple, humble tool. This common kitchen broom and I used it to take THIS:

His name is STILL Blueberry.

And turn it into THIS:

Lightly dusted Blueberry.

And just HOW did a gimpy, pain-filled, asthmatic, slightly bitchy short woman do this?

Well, it was easy, really. I went "outside" and I approached my truck with the broom in my hand and I started at the top of my truck and worked my way down. I know it might be a little scary at first, but trust me, you can do it. I did it. And there was over eight inches of snow on my truck. Even more than that on the parts where it was drifted. I used my hands and my arms to lift the broom and I walked around my vehicle.

I had feet when I started this.

When I was done, I was a little dusted with snow, but I survived it because it isn't a hard thing to do!! You have no excuse. You don't need fancy tools or implements! You can take a simple household broom to achieve the dream. I have faith in you! YOU CAN DO IT!! Go! Go and get your broom! Take it outside! Use it to brush that snow off your car or truck or minivan or full-size van.

If I could fly with this, I wouldn't
need it to clear the snow off my truck.

I don't want you to be alarmed, but you might get some of the snow ON you when you do this. So, dress appropriately for snow-work. Today, I was wearing jeans, shirt, scarf, jacket, my red Docs, and my awesome mittens.

Those mittens are available at the
Sheepskin Shop at the Bristol Renaissance Faire.
You thought I wouldn't mention it in a post about snow, did you?

"I don't think this is a problem," I hear you say. That means that you're part of the problem! You drive around with thick layers of snow all over your vehicle and you don't care that you can cause problems with that snow. It can affect another driver's visibility. It can literally fly off in chunks, hitting other cars. Maybe you'll get lucky and that huge bit of snow on your roof that has melted slightly will come off in one big sheet and hit the ground. That's great! Till the sun goes down and that humble slab of snow-ice freezes and now you have a road hazard. All because you didn't have the same strength and agility as a mildly gimpy, chronic pain-addled, asthmatic, short and fat chick. Or her stroke-disabled husband. Yeah, he can clear his full-sized truck off using a broom and he does it one-handed. I hope you feel bad about that... because all these people should. And, it turns out, in some places, this is against the law. THE LAW. AGAINST IT.

All photos were taken today, on the drive to/from the grocery store. At stop signs and in the parking lot(s) where I stopped my vehicle to get the photos. I get road rage, I don't cause it... I mean, at least I don't try to cause it.

If you click the picture, it'll get bigger.
That's what she said!
This time, she did say that.

Come on, people. Really? REALLY!?

ZOMBIE ARM!! I mean, the open Carpal Tunnel Release Surgery

I did a video since I'm only able to type one-handed and I think faster than I can type with one hand.  In the video, I mentioned some photos and I'm sharing them here.



 On the way to the hospital... not nervous at all!




At the hospital... still totally not nervous at all...



Snazzy jewelry!



Sexy hospital gown!!



The doctor laughed when I took this photo.



Super-sexy hat!!



ZOMBIE ARM!!

Ice and elevate, Chihuahua is optional. #surgery #carpaltunnel #chihuahua #dogsofinstagram #dog

A photo posted by Pahz (@pahz_on_instagram) on Jan 22, 2016 at 4:29pm PST

Ice, elevate, two chis- for extra healing power. #surgery #dogsofinstagram #dog #carpaltunnel #chihuahua

A photo posted by Pahz (@pahz_on_instagram) on Jan 23, 2016 at 12:20pm PST

The Tale of the Left Half of My Left Foot

Last weekend was Opening Weekend of the Bristol Renaissance Faire!

[wait for audience roar]

I KNOW! And it was just as awesome as I knew it would be, despite certain people not being there when they totally usually ARE there.
(yeah, I'm looking at you, Loki or, I guess I'm NOT looking at you right now. Dammit, Loki!)

The weather was hot and humid, so my asthma was SO NOT HAPPY, but that's why I carry an albuterol inhaler in my pouch. I'm not going to die of asthma for the sake of authenticity. Besides, have you see what I wear? I'm definitely NOT authentic. Well, that and the fact I whip out a DSLR at any given second.

Speaking of that DSLR, I chose to wear my cross-body strap on Saturday. I thought that by wearing the camera instead of basket-ing it, I'd take more photos. Well, I didn't. All it did was make BOTH my shoulders tired. See, I usually carry my basket on my right arm and I carry my mug in my left. If I get completely fatigued, I'll carry my basket in my left hand for a while. But mostly, it'll be on my right arm (crooked into my elbow). Well, by having the cross-body strap on, all I did was create drag on my other shoulder, so by mid-afternoon, my shoulders were just killing me. I went back to the basket-ing for Sunday.

Surprisingly, I didn't have any extra pain. My body wasn't in agony (I was a little itchy from the humidity, but no extra pain). And on Sunday, I even forgot to take my Vicodin before the final joust. (Just in case you don't remember or didn't know of this blog, this is what happened 3 years ago when I forgot to take my Vicodin before the final joust). I remembered about ten minutes after the joust ended, so I took it then (because I STILL had to walk up that damn hill). The only pain I was suffering from was in my left foot. That stupid, stupid left foot. Not even the whole left foot, just the left half of the left foot.

I finally figured out a way to describe the pain in the Left Half of My Left Foot. You know when you're sitting down and your foot falls asleep? And then you get up to stand and your leg crumples under you and suddenly your foot is on fire with a thousand white-hot sewing pins and knitting needles burning through your very bones? THAT. That's the feeling I have in the Left Half of My Left Foot almost all of the time. Right now, I'm seated at my desk with my foot resting on top of my man-sandals, so The Top Part of the Left Half of My Left Foot isn't so bad. But the second I slip into my man-sandals, that white-hot agony will be there.

The Monday and Tuesday that followed were normal days, except for the Left Half of My Left Foot. I wasn't in any extra pain like I've been for years after a faire day. Even my human knee didn't hurt. (my shoulders were a bit achy, but that's because of the camera/basket thing I talked about above). In fact, I wasn't in any real Not-Foot-Related pain till Wednesday, but that pain was the tendinitis in my shoulder letting me know that rain was a-comin'. Yes, "a-comin'" because that's how you say it when you have a body part alert you to its arrival.

So, I'm going to mark this up as another success for that Generic Cymbalta for fibro. So far, so good. I'm not going to be excited or overly complimentary. This is good. That's all I'm sayin'.

And now, let's talk about photography OPENING WEEKEND!! And there just so happens to be photos. As usual, ~here is the link~ to the entire album of Opening Weekend photos. And below are a whole bunch of them. Just take a look at whichever you want- the link or scroll down. How can I NOT love the faire? These people are awesome.

OH!! SIDE NOTE- I nagged convinced my son to come along to Bristol finally! He's going to come with me on Sunday!

Now, on to the photos!!

Sir Mauldron, Baron of Blackburn! (FACEBOOK)



Sir Maxmillian, the Jousting Earl of Braden! (FACEBOOK)



Duchess Anastasia of Warwick! (FACEBOOK)



Sir Edgeron of Aquataine! (FACEBOOK)



Don Vincenzo di Scicilia! (FACEBOOK)



Squire Archer!



Squire Freya!







Awwww, yeah... I missed this!



Squire Savvy and Squire Murley!



Dandelion fairy!



By the Sword!







The Royal Falconer (Flight of the Raptor)





On Sunday, Mauldron's horse had a bad hoof, so instead of "on with the show" and causing further harm, he opted not to ride in the joust. Instead, he sat in the stands with the audience, walked around to other areas, talked to kids, and was otherwise genuinely hilarious. This is my favorite shot from that whole thing.



This is Alexx, Sir Maxx's new horse. The Lady of Chivalry is riding him at Bristol while he continues his joust-horse training.

Some kind of update... (and the pun was intentional)

Hi there. I know it has been over a month since I updated. Not much has really been going on around here. I never did call my knee surgeon about my stupid knee. It started to feel better and now it only seems to bother me if I spend too much time standing or walking. The good thing about the faire is that I can absolutely go at my own pace and sit down a lot. (faire starts next weekend, by the way. July 11th is opening day).

I had a six-month followup at the VA hospital today. My blood tests look good and while a couple things are a little elevated, that'll change as soon as I get my ass moving next weekend. The Disabled Guy came home from his yearly Trip of Stupidity in May, then left again three weeks later. He got back on Monday (four days ago). On Tuesday, we had an extremely heated discussion (if by "heated discussion" means "all-out shouting match") about our central AC (heated discussion... AC... yeah). It seems that he's cold. I told him I can't have the house over 72° because the summer humidity sets off my asthma (which is mild) and exacerbates my fibro issues. And not even the pain issues, that's being pretty well controlled at the moment by the Generic Cymbalta. I'm talking about the under-the-skin itching, swelling, and general lack of sleep... that sort of stuff.

He kept yelling at me about how cold he was and I said that he could just put on a hoodie or something. He yelled again about how he was cold and I said- surprisingly not yelling- "You honestly cannot be mad at me for having a medical condition!" I had to repeat that a few times and added a few terse: "Fibromyalgia is a legitimate medical issue. So is asthma!" I get the feeling one of his less-than-reputable relatives (not naming names, but my kids would know who without me even saying) told him that fibro was fake.

Trust me- it isn't. And not just basing that on my own experiences, I say that because it is damn near impossible to get the VA to diagnose anything that is considered an "invisible illness" or even just a chronic illness (like, say, arthritis). So the fact that the goddamned VA hospital went through all that it has to actually diagnose me with it, well... that's a fucking legit thing. (I also found out today that my doctor had to jump through hoops, promise her firstborn, and sacrifice a small animal to get me on that Generic Cymbalta. Apparently, the VA is a dick to fibro patients *ding* (that's a CinemaSins joke)

Anyway, the I told the doctor about the conversation- minus the actual asshole behavior, because nobody really wants to hear about The Disabled Guy not being funny- and she said: "When it comes down to 'being cold' versus 'possible death', you win. When it comes down to 'being cold' versus 'severe physical discomfort', you still win." and we joked about it. Then she added: "Even though we're using a joking tone, even mild asthma isn't funny. Make sure he knows that."

I told him. He wasn't very responsive because he was watching old war movies and then eventually he was catching up on "Game of Thrones" episodes. (when he comes back from his visits to his family, he's cranky and extremely well... asshole-ish. There's a lot of extremes in living with a stroke person. Especially since his stroke is of the old-school variety. A few minutes after our blowup, he was back to normal and talking about me having two feet). I don't know if anything I said to him sank in through all the talk of dragons, random soft-core sex scenes, and whatever the hell else goes on in that show.

But, I did learn something good at my doctor appointment- the reason for my ridiculous amount of fatigue is that my thyroid has yet again gone a little wonky. So my Synthroid dosage is going to be tweaked a little. That's good news because it means that it can be fixed and it ISN'T the fibro! And that means that the Generic Cymbalta still seems to be working.

I am very awake right now- at 227 AM as I type this- because when I went to bed at 10 PM, my legs and lower back/abdomen area decided those millions of hairy-legged spiders wanted to set themselves on fire and crawl out through my skin. I'm pretty sure that was caused by the fact I had a fasting lab today (which meant no caffeine, no food, and no Vicodin in the daytime) and I had to speed-walk through the VA hospital. For some reason, I have to go in, walk halfway down one wing of the hospital to the lab, then trek all the way to the other end of a different wing to pick up a piece of red card stock with my name on it, and then go all the way back to where the lab was to the clinic where I see my doctor. Today, I said: "It'd be nice if you'd move this office, I dunno, a little closer to the clinics." They agreed, but of course, that's not going to happen.

I'd like to talk about photography, but all I got is the same old stuff. Macro flowers, raindrops on leaves. I've been adding text to photos from last season at Bristol and doing my "countdown" by uploading two to four photos at a time. If you'd like to see it, here's the link to the Facebook album. And since I don't have much else going on at the moment, here's some photos of bubbles I took last week. The pink-tinted blob in the bubble is a reflection (refraction?) of the extremely bright pink shirt I was wearing.












This is my 365 self-portrait from day 121 of Year 6. I'm blowing bubbles while being back-lit by my flash. It took a lot of attempts and a lot of dripping bubble solution on my shirt to get this shot.



And, for funsies, here's my 365 self-portrait from day 125 of Year 6. People were sharing the article about how zookeepers and such were "Pratting" with their animals. So, I did the same with mine.



And I did take some macro water drops, so here are a few...

I see what you did there, Fibro...

I've been doing that thing I do where I plan on updating the blog, but then I don't because I forget or I procrastinate till...  I forget.

I had a bit of a flare up on a perfectly wonderful, sunny, gorgeous day. It was 65° Fahrenheit and just lovely. But it was a weak-ass flareup. It was mostly fatigue with a bit of pain. The morning dose of Vicodin took the edge off the pain. The fatigue stuck around and got worse as the day wore on, like a normal bout of flareup fatigue.

And I didn't really know why, so I checked the weather forecast. Well, let me show you a photographic representation. I've been doing the 365 self-portrait project since 2010. I've recently started my sixth year. I'm in a group on Flickr that calls itself: "We're Here". We pick a theme for a day and then we "invade" a group with our photos of that theme. The theme for that day- Sunday, March 22nd, was "Lazy Photography" and the description was: "The great photographers venture out into the world, fearless and tireless. They search for opportunities, and even create opportunities. god bless 'em. But this group is for when you'd rather park yourself on the couch or on the porch and wait for an opportunity to come to you. and if it doesn't come...just take a picture of your foot." 

I'm a literal smartass, so that is exactly what I did- I took a photo of my foot on the swing on my back porch (which is a massive wooden deck, actually).



And, this photo is less than 24 hours later-



Is it any wonder I was having a flareup?!

Yesterday, I was having one of those low-grade flareup feelings. I felt like crap, but I could at least sit down and stand up when I needed to... And I had to go to the store. I managed to live through it, the fatigue kept trying to pull me down to the floor, but I managed to get home.

A few hours later, my son came home from whatever it is he does when he's not home and not at work. He had two of his friends with him and the girl he's dating- I'm not sure if we're calling her his girlfriend yet or not, but you know... Anyway- the kids- and by "kids", I mean "adults in their early 20s" wanted me to take some photos for them. My son rides a sport bike. You and I probably know them better as "crotch rockets", but they don't like it when you call them that. So, of course I said I'd do it and we left the house to do some photos on a newly constructed dead-end street in an industrial area (no traffic). The girl didn't want to be in any of the photos so she and I sort of hung out while the guys did their drive-bys so I could do panning shots and so on. During the course of our conversations, I told her this about my fibro- "I could either sit at home and feel like shit, or I can come out here, take some cool photos of you guys and still feel like shit. So, I'm here." (and I said that's how I survive the faire on flareup days. I can sit at home and feel bad or I can at least be somewhere fun with great people). I spent a couple hours on my feet, walking around this dead end street (it was a weird dead end, the long street gave way to a 90° turn and that part ended about a half mile up. But there were no buildings around it, just an open field on one side, a highway at the end, and a pheasant farm on the other side).

Then there's today. Today, at 4 AM, my body decided to wake me up. Wake me up out of a dead sleep. Because why the fuck not? I stayed in bed till 430, trying to trick myself into falling back to sleep, but it didn't work. Fibrofuckingmyalgia will not listen to reason. And when I tried to move, my body was quite sure that was a bad idea. It took me ten minutes to get out of bed and get downstairs. After I did my morning stuff (breakfast, reading news, catching up on Facebook, trash day, dogs out), I went back to bed to try and take a nap. It was a crappy, less-restful 90 minutes of semi-consciousness. And today is the first of the month, so I had bill-paying errands to do. I struggled for everything today. Showering, getting dressed, going outside, trying to get into the vehicle (mid-size pickup truck), standing at the bank, walking. Breathing. Blergh.

I took my usual morning dose of Vicodin. I did all those things and at 2 PM, I took two more Vicodin. And about 45 minutes later, I felt the edge slide off the pain. I was still in pain, but at least I didn't have to struggle to get up out of my chair. And here's why-

Tomorrow's got rain (a 90-goddamn-percent chance of rain), then we just drop all the warmth and go back to cold temps. For a freakin' day. The earlier weather (that I didn't screen cap) was predicting snow on Friday, so I suppose I should be glad that we're just getting rain tomorrow and cold on Friday.

So, the Generic Cymbalta isn't an all-out miracle, but damn, there are a lot more good days than bad now. I'm going to accept that. Because a little flareup that goes away after a couple of hours is doable. And today's shitty flareup? Well, it sucks, but it also has a clear reason (the weather) and I feel like there's an end to it. Compared to last Spring when I had a "flareup" that lasted for months- I'll take it. But I see what you did there, Fibrofuckingmyalgia... April 1st- haha, sucks to be you, human! BOOM. Flareup on April Fool's Day.

And because I know you're wondering, here are a few shots from yesterday with the guys.




This one is called "Girls on Instagram be like..."











This is yesterday's 365. I had Andrew (kid in red) hold the camera because he was the tallest. My son is in the black helmet behind me with the girl he's been seeing, and Reese is behind them. And I am woefully underdressed for this party.