The World Is Ending

I have just seen evidence that the world is ending. That’s right. I saw a commercial for high-fructose corn syrup.

Man complains of heat. Woman offers him a popsicle.
“No thanks,” says Man. “It has high-fructose corn syrup in it.”
“What’s wrong with that?” asks Woman, looking flirty and tempting.
“Well… um… hmm…” Man can’t think of the exact reason.
“What? That it’s made from corn? C’mon… it doesn’t have any more calories than honey.”

All of this was paid for the Corn Refiners Association… who aren’t biased at all…. who apparently feel that their beloved product needs some cultural rehabilitation.

On Politics

‘Tis the season to debate politics, or rather, I wish it were. Unfortunately, debate never seems to work out well. Even people who should know better end up making fun of which ever side is the Other Side, or assuming that supporters of the Other Side are stupid, or assuming that they know which side people are on (or that they’ve even picked a side) based on bits and pieces that they know about that person.

I hate this.

Four years ago somebody assumed he knew which side I was on, wouldn’t believe me when I explained why I was as yet undecided, got defensive when I wouldn’t listen to his hype and hyperbole, and hasn’t spoken to me since. That same election cycle, I spent a very confusing day visiting with two different groups of people, each of whom confidently talked about “our candidate” as if they knew which one I’d picked and, you guessed it, each group had me pegged for a different candidate.

I hate this.

Talking “the issues” is even more fraught because everyone assumes that if you support one position on one issue, they know which position of Every Other Issue Under The Sun will be. Which leads them directly to an assumption of which candidate you support. Which lands us all in the same kettle of fish.

I hate this.

You may wonder why I don’t just claim a side and proclaim it, sweeping aside unfounded assumptions with one swell foop. Well, first of all, this is because I’m not Republican or Democratic. I’ve voted almost exactly half and half. But more importantly, it’s because as soon as I choose and declare support for one side, people will immediately assume that I agree with that side’s stance on the major issues. And usually I don’t. I’ve never seen a candidate that I agreed with on all the major issues. And so here again I get socked by assumptions.

I hate this.

My coping strategy is to refrain from talking politics at all. Ever. With anyone but my immediate family (and even then only in extremely small doses). I just won’t. It’s not worth the angst.

It’s All Relative, or Adventures with Physical Therapists

So, um, yeah. Close to two years ago, I pulled a muscle in my inner thigh. Nothing too odd in that. I’ve done that many a time. I even expected that this one would take longer than usual to heal because back when I used to be a ballet dancer (many moons ago, let me tell you… especially in dancer years) I’d felt a similar explosion of white-hot pain when I tore a muscle in my calf. That had taken months to heal, so I settled in for the long haul.

I waited, stretched ever so carefully, waited, tried heat, waited, tried ice, waited, settled on careful stretching again, waited some more… nothing. Six months later I still couldn’t sit on the floor and move my leg more than about 10 degrees to the side of center. 10 degrees! But as long as I didn’t stretch that leg out to the side (and really, how often do you get the urge to stretch your leg to the side in a day) I felt no discomfort.

Fast forward to this spring. By this time I was kind of embarrassed to ask anyone about this becuase I knew all they’d do is scold me for not coming in earlier and then tell me that I’d irreparably damaged something. (If that last bit doesn’t sound entirely rational, just remember that I have a rather irrational fear of doctors and everything will make a little more sense.) But when I had my yearly physical, I mentioned to my doctor that this had been going on and she referred me to physical therapy (without any scolding).

This brings us all the way to today when the physical therapist spent over an hour trying to figure out what was wrong with my leg. I tell you, it takes some muscle to be a physical therapist! She stretched me and pulled on me and had me pull on her and stretched me some more, and determined that I had “full range of motion.” I almost laughed. How could that be? Thoughout the session I’d been frustrated by how stiff I was, but apparently she’d gone through the whole thing thinking I was flexible. She finally believed me when she measured the angles of stretch in the uninjured leg.

75 degrees to the side in the left leg (my historically less flexible leg, and the one I blew out when I was 12)… 40 degrees in my right leg. That’s when she ordered ultrasound therapy.

Flip-Flopping -or- The Food Saga Continues

What’s one of the most damning things one political candidate can say about another? (Get your minds out of the gutter, people… I mean things about the other candidates politics.) “He doesn’t understand foreign policy.” … “She thinks she can do all that and lower taxes?” … You know the stuff. But of all these accusations, the one they seem to trot out with the most regularity is the dreaded flip-flop. Nothing signals weakness of character like a changeable mind, or at least, that’s what they’d like us to think. It’s the ethics of constancy, and it reigns supreme in the land of politics.

Cats have no such code of ethics. You may remember the fits that mine threw when I changed his kibble last year. If you don’t remember and don’t feel like clicking the link, the short version is as follows: taste new food, puke, hunger strike, puke, taste new food again, yell at me, puke… for months. Three months, to be precise. This was an emphatic vote against the new kibble if I ever saw one.

A couple months later, I did some research and found out that cats really don’t do well on kibble at all (they don’t need any carbohydrates, and they don’t have a well-developed thirst instinct, so wet food that’s rich in protein is best for them). So I started feeding Pippin wet food at night, and I even diluted it with water to keep him from existing in that state of subclinical dehydration that I’d read so much about.

Well, at his vet visit a couple weeks ago, I talked about kitty diets with Dr. Calm, and she confirmed that he wouldn’t need any dry food at all. So the next morning, in place of his customary morning kibble, I gave him lovely, protein-rich wet food.

Bear in mind that this is the same wet food that he’s been eating every evening for at least 6 months. Also bear in mind the fit he threw over this kibble. Remember especially the emphasis he put on his message that this new kibble was unfit for catly consumption.

As it turns out, he is very attached to his newer kibble. He refuses to eat his wet food in the morning unless I tuck a few pieces of kibble into it. When I don’t, he leans longingly against the cupboard in which the desired kibble is stored, wails (truly, and with an angry edge to it, and with teeth showing), rubs against the cupboard, sniffs the cupboard, and then leans on it again while looking pathetic. When I don’t include a few kibbles with his wet food, he often refuses altogether, but only if it’s the morning meal. The evening meal is supposed to be wet, in his mind, so he eats it with good appetite and no complaints.

So is this the worst case of flip-flopping ever? Or is this an absolutely entrenched love of habit? And is it possible for it to be both? Only cats can tell. Meanwhile, I will watch in amusement as mine feigns starvation every morning.

I wasn’t crazy after all

I’d really begun to doubt myself. Surely I’d just forgotten other times when I was tired. Surely I’d just imagined that I used to have more energy. Surely I was getting myself all worked up over nothing at all.

Then this morning, I woke up. Really. What a difference! I went to work, walked across campus with a spring in my step, sat at my desk without slumping, and even ended up smiling for most of the day. My brain turned on and actually started functioning. And when I got home from work, I called home, made and ate dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and made a batch of iced tea. Notice the distinct lack of “took a 2 hour nap” in that line-up of activities.

I have no idea what caused today’s change, but now that I’ve felt it, I know that I’ve only had a few such days in the last few months. So not only was this a heavenly day just because of the joy of having energy and a brain, but it was also a huge relief to be reminded that a “normal” day can, in fact, include a springy step, good mood, and functional mind. Finally, I have proof that the other state of being is not the way it’s always been. Finally, I have the confidence to ask more questions and figure out what’s happening when I’m not feeling good.