Aside from the usual newsfeeds and promotional emails from Macy’s, Coldwater Creek, Target, Borders, and Pettags.com, my inbox is full of back and forth emails between the committee members for next weekend’s 11th Northern Nevada Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. It’s definitely crunch time, and the emails are flying fast and furious, but I can breathe a little today as I am caught up on all the paper entries we’ve received.
For those of you in the area who wish to participate, online registration is open until midnight on Monday, and In Person registration begins on Thursday, October 1st at the Macy’s Furniture Store at 6011 S. Virginia. Hours: Th/Fri: 12:00-7:00 pm, Sat: 10:00 am – 3:00 pm. You can also register on Race Day at the quad at UNR, from 7:00-9:00 am. Not in the area but still want to help? Here’s a link to my donation page, if you can find a couple of extra dollars.
Gardeners in northern Nevada have learned to work with a very short growing season, and more often than not, false starts on spring. So every year we wait with bated breath after our fruit trees blossom to see whether our blooms will be wiped out by a killing frost, or if it will stay warm enough for our trees to produce fruit. This year was one of those years and northern Nevadans are chock full of all kinds of backyard fruit. Maven mentions in her Friday Fish Wrap that she’s got a ton of wonderful nectarines but that her tomatoes don’t seem to want to ripen.
Nectarines are my all-time favorite summer fruit and I was so excited when our tree started growing bunches of them. I kept my eye on them, waiting for them to grow and ripen, my mouth watering in anticipation, but I soon noticed that they did not appear be growing very well. For weeks they just seemed to stay small and hard, but were starting to turn a ripened color. Something was wrong! So I mentioned it to Sweetie and after checking it out, it turns out that the fruit trees were not getting watered by our drip, and though he fixed it and the trees began to get their fair share of H2O, it was too little too late and our nectarines never really got much bigger and though they did ripen were never really edible.
Our Granny Smith apples, on the other hand…bumper crop. I’ve finally turned into one of those people that has to take take a bag of home grown produce to work in order to get rid share with her less blessed co-workers. Fortunately, it’s a big company and there were enough hungry souls. And I need to do it again. Seriously.
The heart monitor. I’m seven days in to my 21 day monitoring. It’s not so bad. I’ve got to keep the cell phone in the charger as much as I can, replace the batteries in the monitor every couple of days and replace the electrode patches daily, but all-in-all, it’s not too bothersome. Coolness: the monitor itself has a little button on the back that fits the electrode patch, so that I can add a fifth one and just attach it to my chest. For work days, this is marvelous because a loose shirt hides the monitor and wires. Nice not to have a lanyard hanging around my neck. Here’s what the company’s press release says about the model I’m wearing.
With up to 21-days of real-time ECG monitoring and the provision of ST deviation analysis, the ACT III provides more sensitive and specific data for initial or early detection of arrhythmia in patients that have limited or atypical symptoms.
The device has 6 hours of memory in the sensor and a flash memory of up to 21 days of data on the ACT Cell phone monitor. This ensures that no valuable data is lost if a patient is disconnected from the cellular phone.
That “limited or atypical” would be me. My symptoms are so weird, they nearly defy explanation. The 24-hour Holter monitor picked up a few weirdnesses, but not enough for my cardiologist to really get the full picture. I do have an arrhythmia – sometimes my heart beats fast, sometimes skip beats, but my doctor isn’t sure if the misfire is coming from the bottom of my heart or the top. One is okay, the other, not so much. My resting heart rate is already slow (about 45 bpm) and I’m not an elite athlete. When I went for my echocardiogram, the tech told me I went as low as 35 bpm. I’m thinking that’s not so good.
In the real world shit keeps happening.
I read about the census worker who got lynched in Kentucky and I have no words. Surely, Michelle Bachmann (crazy Congresswoman from Minnesota) has blood on her hands. I mean, yeah, Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh are paid to be ignorant, but she’s a fucking congresswoman fer cryin’ out loud.
Here’s a plan. Let’s let all those rightwing reactionaries NOT fill out their census forms. Do they have any idea of the impact that will have on their allocation of federal funds for roads, schools, health and emergency services, not to mention representation in D.C. as well as their state legislature? They want to be anonymous? Let ‘em. Jeebus on a triscuit, their ignorance is stunning.
Furthermore, where the hell were all these people while the government has been secretly listening to our phone conversations, monitoring our library use, internet, email? IN SECRET – no warrants, no letters, no nothing. But these idjits are stoking fear about a process that is (A) mandated by the U.S. Constitution, (B) has been going on since the country was founded, and (C) is probably one of the most transparent things our goverment does.
Mission Statement of the U.S. Census Bureau:
The Census Bureau serves as the leading source of quality data about the nation’s people and economy. We honor privacy, protect confidentiality, share our expertise globally, and conduct our work openly. We are guided on this mission by our strong and capable workforce, our readiness to innovate, and our abiding commitment to our customers.
And Michelle Bachmann’s query as to why the questionnaire doesn’t ask if the person filling it out is a citizen or not is ridiculous. Either she has no clue what a census is, or she is being disingenous. Me thinks the former. Every time that woman opens her mouth I wonder about her I.Q. The census is a count of how many bodies live in a particular area and the demographics about those bodies. All those bodies use public roads, schools, emergency services, etc. Furthermore, there are many, many people who are in this country legally, but are not citizens. My son-in-law is one of them. But to hear Beck and Bachmann speak, he’s a dangerous “illegal.” Fuck Them. He loves his wife (my beautiful girl), is a hard worker, has a real job and actually makes a contribution to society. Which is more than I can say for Bachmann and Beck. (/rant)
And finally, for something completely different, my favorite scene from my favorite movie. If you haven’t seen this little gem, rent it. Today.
And Tom Waits with a cautionary tale.