Chicken Butt

Is there a bar in this skum bucket town?

For years I've had the ghost of a chorus from a Jermaine Jackson song about rain drifting around in my head. I remembered that I liked it. I remembered it had something about falling rain in the chorus. I remembered liking the song, but not nearly enough to buy the album. (Yes, this was early college and vinyl was my favorite format.) What I did not remember was this totally 80s extravaganza. Over six minutes of West Side Story plot with crazy costumes, big hair, white leather and white motorcycles. 

The song is "When the Rain Begins to Fall." I can finally stop trying to figure out what that song was. I still think the chorus is catchy. Maybe in another 19 years I'll listen to this song again.

If you find the setup as painful as I did, skip to 2:33, that where the chorus starts. Oh, did I mention it's a duet with Pia Zadora?

Geeking out with my bad self

Now that I can wear normal sizes (yes, I call mens XXL normal) I've been buying t-shirts like a mad woman. I've had to slow myself down. I have more than enough geeky t-shirts for the weekends, but not enough to cover my upcoming vacation in Ashtabula. I fully expect these shirts to become too large within the year, so I am trying to save some of the super cool designs I've seen for later. I do need to find a nice Obama '08 shirt though.

Sticky, but not stinky

I love not having to wear socks to work. Love. It. It is hard for me to find non-sandal, non-athletic type shoes appropriate for work that have the right support for my injury-prone feet. I love my new Merrell blue suede mary-janes:

(Image modified because my cell phone camera sucks and the picture was blurry/grainy anyways, why not make it interesting.)

I just wish my feet weren’t so sweaty. If I don’t kick off my shoes while I’m at my desk I start squeaking when I walk. Or is it squelching? Whatever, tiny audible pit fart noises accompany me down the halls. Even as I turn into my mother, constantly putting on layers to keep the chill off, I still have my dad’s sweaty feet. Look for me in coordinated parka and flip flops (coming soon to a theater near you.)

I hope this post doesn’t bring the hoards of seekers that my toe tattoo pictures did. I hate to type those words, but the fetishists have already found me. I keep meaning to keep a list of some of the funny search terms that have brought people to Chicken Butt. When I do I’ll put them in an image so it doesn’t bring even more traffic. I do not like that I’m self-censoring now.

Blacksmithing Slideshow

I've finally figured out how people have been making these awesome slideshows:

The site is PictoBrowser, "Fast and Effortless photo galleries for your website or blog." It's free and you just need a Flickr account to use it. Very easy and fun.

This is the followup to my previous post about blacksmithing class. I had trouble logging into my Flickr account for a few days, but finally worked it out. Stupid yahoo account email address I never use. [grumble grumble]

I'm no Meg Langslow

 Blacksmithing class on Saturday was awful, interesting, exciting, hot, dirty, miserable, frustrating and awesome. It was so hard. I am not strong and tried to use a hammer too heavy for me on an anvil too high. By the time I figured out how it should be done I had no strength left at all. It was so hot; I didn't pee the whole time I was there (from 8:30am to 4:00pm). I drank about ten bottles of water, but I sweat it all out.

Chris, the main teacher, teaches like my dad. As a friend says, he doesn't use his words. When asked how something should be done, he just took over and did it without explanation. So not only did I still not know how to do it, I didn't get a chance because it had already been done. I was frustrated because that's what my dad does, so I brought my baggage with me. Once I prayed on it "Bless him, change me, damn it!" it went better. Still frustrating, but I didn’t feel like running away or breaking things.

I could not figure out why Chris was rushing us. At ten he was pushing me to stop on my practice piece and pick a project. The class was supposed to run until five so I wasn’t in a rush. Turns out he had to leave at 3:00. Luckily Kirk, the guy who runs the farm, is also a blacksmith. His teaching style is more compatible to my learning style. More patient and uses his words. He is the one who noticed I was too short for the anvil I started at. He also told me to use a smaller hammer. Once Chris left Kirk gave me some pointers on my stance and where my elbows should be. By that time I had no strength left, but at least I finally knew what my hammer should be doing.

I will take the course again. Hopefully they'll have learned some lessons from our class. We were the first; the guinea pigs. The two portable forges they set up outside didn’t work. It would be better to have more space instead of six people trying to use a fire designed for one. I really like the fireplace fork (marshmallow fork?) I assisted making. I banged the metal around, but most of the final shaping of each section was done by the teachers. I made the curly bit on the end though, that's all me baby. The twist is the simplest part. Just heat that section, put one end in a vise and then pull and twist the other end. I had help on that too. You only get one shot and I just didn’t have the strength left. It was one of the last things we did.

Did I mention how dirty it was? The fuel was coal. My shower water turned black. My legs were dark grey above my sock line even though I was wearing jeans. I could still smell the coal smoke in my hair after showering and then swimming. When green coal is first added to the fire it releases this funky greenish-yellow smoke. That’s the sulfur and other organics in the coal burning off. Then it becomes coke. It didn’t smell bad, just distinctive.

Hey, I learned what clinker is. I've read the word in stories, but never really got it. It's a waste product that builds up in the furnace and it absorbs all the heat. So it looks like the fire is going great, but your metal does get to the temp it needs to be. You have to pull the clinker out. I had trouble telling the difference between coke burning how it is supposed to and clinker. But when clinker is pulled out it glows red much longer. Just learning to tend the forge is a huge part of blacksmithing.

I didn't know metal can burn, but it can. Then the burnt part is useless and brittle. A lot of people lost a fork tine in the fire. It would just fall off. The top three inches of my practice piece fell off into the fire. How do you tell if it is burning? It sparks like a sparkler. Then it looks all pitted and crunchy. I burnt part of my piece where the tines split, but not bad enough to have to cut it off and start over.

I wish there was a second class this Saturday. It took all day to figure out how the fire should look and sound and what color the metal should be. I think I could do more of the work myself if I had another chance once my arm and hand muscles recover.

Diamonds and gray hair

So I got my diamond earrings and possibly my first gray hair. My jeweler friend Dave delivered my new diamond earrings last week. Yes, delivered them. I was in crisis mode at work and could not get free to come see them. He needed a decision quickly, so brought them to work for me. So nice to do business with friends. They are bigger than I expected for 3/4 caret each. I really like them, sparkly. I gave my friend the size and price I was willing to pay and I'm told these are very nice for the price. Each has an inclusion that Dave can see from a foot away, but I cannot find them even when told where to look. So I'm happy.

My sister is a bit jealous I think. Her 1 caret each are a smaller diameter than mine. I'm sure her quality is higher than mine and mine are shallower, but yesterday all she could focus on was that mine were much less expensive and yet were bigger. I told her I'd trade. She didn't take me up on it, but is seriously considering trading up. She covets a friend's 2 caret each earrings. I'd be afraid to leave the house with rocks like that.

She got even with me though. She pointed out a gray hair in my nose. She thought it was a booger, but it is a bright hair. I said it couldn't possibly be a gray hair, that it was blond. I saw it today though. I think she is right. Ack! Next I'll be sprouting long coarse hairs from my ears. Luckily I have friends and family comfortable pointing these things out.

If my call phone camera wasn't total crap I'd upload a picture of my new bling.

Little Brother - Meeting Cory

I went to a book discussion/signing tonight. Cory Doctorow is touring with his new YA novel Little Brother. It is really good. I'm about four/fifths into it.

I almost didn't go because of the commute and fear that it would be mobbed. I've never gone to a reading before. I plan to go again. He was exactly the way I expected he would be. I've been reading Boing Boing for years and he is my favorite contributor. Usually if I find a post really interesting the byline is Cory. I've only read one of his books before this. I really liked Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, but this is better.

A sign I'm loving a book is that when I put it down and go back to real life I have trouble remembering that the book isn't part of reality. I keep wanting to discuss events in the book as if the people around me are experiencing too. I think part of this is because this book pulls in bits and pieces of Cory's BB posts from the last few years. Maybe that's why I had an accurate picture in my head of him. Not just how he looks, but how he sounds, how he phrases things. It was weird to be browsing in a book store, look up and hey, isn't that Cory Doctorow? Even though I was expecting to see him, it was odd. I smiled and said hi. It must be odd to be recognized by so many strangers.

So the reading. He started out doing Q&A to let stragglers settle in. I didn't ask anything before the reading. I didn't show up with questions in my head. I just wanted to hear him talk about his work. It was funny to listen to the people who desperately wanted to impress him. I find that painful to witness. I see it at work functions too. Some people ask questions just to ask something, so the questions are generic and a bit pointless. Some people love to hear themselves talk and will ask a five-part question that requires so much backstory that the question takes as long to ask as to answer. The worst I ever saw was the last time I saw Colin Powell speak at work, those new senior executives are so full of themselves and eager to impress. I wanted to howl or crawl under the table.**

Where was I, the reading. He read a passage that I read today at lunch. Marcus and Ange's first date, pages 184 through 197. I spaced out a few times during the reading. I'm a visual processor. It's easier for me to read and absorb than listen and absorb. Often after time I can't remember if I've read something or seen it on TV. My mind does it's own visuals and soundtrack and as time goes by I often cannot remember the original source. Having read the section only hours before it was almost too familiar. But it was cool to hear him read it. I guess he does a podcast and had read this section a while ago. Again, more of a reader than a listener, so I was oblivious.

Then there was about 20 minutes of Q&A. This is when I started asking questions and was unable to stop. He had mentioned a company that he bought his LINUX laptops from fully loaded and with tech support. I had missed the name. It's Emperor Linux Linux is something I'm interested in, but not enough that I want to fart around with it. I like the idea, but my focus isn't on hardware/software right now. I want tools that do what I want. I get enough troubleshooting at work right now. Wow, I'm rambling tonight. I'm a bit hyper actually.

I also wanted to know what he thought was the youngest age his book was appropriate for. He said 12. My nephew is way too young, I knew that. I bought a copy for ksl's kids QNE and had him sign it. I wanted to support the store and I had already bought my book at a big chain. I love small book stores in principle, but in reality I get annoyed by the small selection. Especially if I don't match their target demographic.

Someone actually asked where he gets his ideas from. Seriously? What are you ten? But he answered and it was interesting. He confirmed what I thought. All the posts he writes for BB are little nuggets he writes that helps him remember interesting things. Like a nemonic, he said. Someone also asked for writing tips. Here is a paraphrase of what he said:*

1. Write everyday.
2. If you don't know what happens next, make it worse. Make the character try to fix things and fail.
3. Stop writing in the middle of a sentence. It will make it easier to pick it up the next day. Like the hint in knitting. (Okay, not sure I got that last part down right.)

I also asked if kids had taken up some of the more destructive jamming methods up in their own rebellions again authority. Instructables has been posting HOWTOs inspired by Little Brother. He said no, and that people make the mistake of thinking that reading or seeing rebellion or mischief causes kids to imitate. But that really it was kids will be kids. Okay, that is simplified from what he said. I wasn't taking notes and he went in a direction I wasn't anticipating. A little defensive maybe? He had an interesting quote from another YA writing, he thought it was Garth Nix, about adolescence being a series of one way gates. For example, one day they have never told a lie of consequence and the next day they have. No going back.

I would really like to have a conversation with Mr. Doctorow. I may have broken a rule of signing events by asking multiple questions. But I really wanted to know and I did wait for someone else to raise their hands before sticking mine up yet again. He did thank me for asking questions. Even if he was just being nice, it was nice. A woman asked me if I was a school or public librarian while waiting for the restroom. She assumed from my questions that I was a librarian. I told her I just read a lot. She is a librarian, so I guess I couldn't have been too out of line if she identified me as one of her own.

Wow, this has taken much longer to write than I planned. Past bedtime for me. I'm glad I went and I need to continue doing this kind of thing. I took down info from a poster at the bookshop to about a lecture at Fermi Lab on June 4. It looks interesting. I've never gone to any events there, but always meant to. Oh, and while most of the men at the reading tonight were too young or married, there was one handsome man who took the chair next to mine. I didn't notice whether he had a wedding ring though. I was busy trying to remember if I had put on anti-perspirant today (Alas, this was not the first time I questioned this today. I'm pretty sure the answer is no.) Then I could not find my signing number. I had number five and lost it. I spent several annoying minutes searching everything in my purse before giving up and getting another from the front desk. So, not only was fat and smelly, I was also annoying.*** Nice.

Oh, there was someone recording the whole thing and there was a guy taking pictures and another with his MacBook Pro possibly blogging or twittering it. He sat in front of me and his phone or some other gadget went off during Q&A and he didn't turn it off. I wasn't the only one in my row giving him the hairy eyeball. I'm glad I went right from work and therefore wasn't seriously tempted to wear my robot celebrity t-shirt that I found via BB. There were several people there with boing boing or Cory related gear on and he complemented each one, but it seemed a bit like wearing a concert t-shirt at the concert. But that's me over-analyzing the shit out of everything. If I wasn't so judgmental I'd more serene. Time for bed.

* Yes I did take notes. It helps me absorb information. So just take that Loser sign you are making on your forehead right now and cram it.

** I never posted the latest picture of Gen. Powell and me. I didn't like it, but at least this time my eyes were open.

*** I am allowed to call myself fat. You are not. I weigh 254 pounds. Don't tell me I'm not fat. I'm not being mean to myself. This is how I saw myself sitting next to the handsome man with a bit of gray in his hair and number one signing number. Sigh. Can't wait to meet the handsome charming man at my blacksmithing class where I will sweat like crazy working the forge and probably maim myself with hot iron.

Normal is good

Life is pretty undramatic when cancer isn't hanging over everything. No major events, no trauma, just life. I've gone to lunch with old friends, watched too much BBC TV on DVD, and tried not to shop too much. I started making some paper dogwood flowers from a Martha Stewart kit and got bored after two. I like how calm everything is. I just don't have a whole lot to write about.

Oh. My. God.

Yesterday at a big meeting of my organization I saw a woman wearing a blue and white seersucker puffy skirt. Yesterday. At work. At a big gathering of professional people. Seersucker. Puffy. Puffy skirt. I did at least a double-take and had to resist the urge to grab the nearest friend and point. I managed to avoid being an ass (at least in that moment) and survived my little flashback to the eighties.

I cannot stop doodling this image during phone meetings. I see it when I close my eyes

Benign

Results are in. Both biopsied nodules are benign. Hooray!

I'm surprised by my lack of joy at the news. I'm still angry that the radiologist would only biopsy the two largest. I'm pissed that the endocrinologist's staff told me yesterday at 3 pm that they had the results, but the doctor never called me until 6pm today. His staff told me around ten this morning that it was benign, but I needed to hear it from the doctor himself.

The follow-up plan is to get another ultrasound in six months. I'm still having trouble trusting that one of the tiny nodules isn't a mutated clump of cells that will slowly grow to malignancy.

Thank you to everyone for your positive vibes, prayers and good thoughts. I've had an amazing outpouring of love from friends since all this started.

Not Hashimoto's disease

I don't have the energy right now to start from scratch so I'll post part of the email I sent to the growing list of people I've promised to keep up to date about my thyroid situation. Here goes:

I don't have Hashimoto's disease. The test was negative for the anti-bodies.

Is this a good thing? If it had been Hashimoto's disease, then cancer could be pretty much ruled out.

Now I need to wait for the results of the biopsy. The test is Tuesday morning in Elmhurst, so I might have results by next Friday.

For the record, I hate the word goiter. It conjures images of sepia-toned ladies with bullfrog necks. That's what they are calling it though, a multi-nodular goiter. Gross.

Here is a brief summary so far:

• March 19 - Routine Physical - Dr. notices a lumpy thyroid. Orders an ultrasound.
• March 22 - Ultrasound at Delnor Hospital
• March 24 - Multiple nodules on each lobe of thyroid. Referred to Endocrinologist.
• March 31 - Initial consult with Dr. Z, adorable endocrinologist. He believes it is Hashimoto's disease. Orders blood test for antibodies and an Ultrasound Fine Needle Aspiration(FNA ) biopsy.
• April 3 - Results of antibody test shows it is not Hashimoto's disease.
• April 8 - Biopsy scheduled at Elmhurst Hospital

Thanks for all your kind words, thoughts and prayers. They are much appreciated.

I hate the word goiter

I saw the Endocrinologist on Monday. I liked him; he took time to explain what he thought and listened to my concerns. He thinks I have Hashimoto’s disease. If I do, it is statistically unlikely I have thyroid cancer. It’s an auto-immune disease, so to verify Hashimoto’s they test for auto-antibodies. I had blood drawn Monday afternoon to check for those. I am scheduled to go in next Tuesday April, 8 to have biopsies done on the nodules.

Jennifer had thyroid cancer last year, she said that biopsies are not fun and I’ll be sore, but they aren’t too bad. She recommends I take any pain drugs they offer. The doctor says my neck will be bruised. So that’s something to look forward too.

I’m doing okay overall. I’m back in a wait-and-see mode. Hashimoto’s disease has its own fun things, but from what I’ve read so far it mainly involves checking my thyroid function a lot and if my thyroid fails I get to go on hormones for the rest of my life. I skipped over Hashimoto’s when researching before my appointment because it is usually hereditary, causes hypothyroidism, and causes enlarged thyroid. No one in my family has thyroid disease that I know of (my mom was adopted, so there is some unknown). My thyroid hormone levels are practically perfect and what I appear to have is a multi-nodular goiter, not an enlarged thyroid.

If I don’t hear from the Doctor tomorrow morning I’m going to call. They should have the blood test results by then.

Not lopsided then

Nine nodules. All over the damn gland. I see an endocrinologist on Monday. The lab report is full of words I never saw before Monday. I've done some research. There are some things that point to benign and others that point to malignant. More tests will be run. Statistically what I have is a multi-nodular goiter. I'm really trying to take comfort in that. I sort of lost my mind this week. My hands are still shaky. I can't concentrate except when I'm reading about thyroid diseases and I went MIA from work. They say that if you had to pick a cancer, thyroid is a good bet. I've talked with two friends that had thyroid cancer. They were very reassuring and scared the crap out of me at the same time. I'm still waiting wake up from this nightmare. I'm trying not to be a drama queen. Especially because a goiter is a ridiculous, embarrassing, undramatic ailment. (Please, please let it be a goiter!)