The results of my mother's tests are in, and everything looks great. There's still a slim possibility of cancer, but if so it's in the very early stages, and she's going to have her ovaries removed anyway just to be sure so if it's there it'll be gone.
Her surgery has been scheduled for March 31, and she'll be in the hospital for just a day. Unfortunately, the recovery time is going to be about two weeks (she's 70 and doesn't bounce back like she used to) so I am going to be very busy in about a month's time.
Still, at least this way my living at home is justified, because they'd be up shit creek if I wasn't here. Dad's the kind of person who thinks making a sandwich is cooking, and therefore woman's work. I don't think he could do the laundry if his life depended on it.
Big hugs and thank-yous to everyone who sent us thoughts and prayers and well-wishes.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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Monday, February 22, 2010
The D Belt
As you all are no doubt aware, I am a bit of a gadget nut and my preference for being prepared borders on fetishism. This tendency, when projected to its ultimately absurd end, culminates in my Z Kit, which is a fun little hobby for my idle hands, a hole for my disposable income, and the future People's Exhibit A in my eventual trial for mental competence.
(Your Auntie Palette is holding out for a ruling of "Tutti Frutti" and will be dreadfully disappointed with any other result.)
But be that as it may, at some points I actually manage to be prudent and sensible, and to that end I present you with my D Belt. The D is for Dog-walking, and I strap this assembly around my waist every afternoon when I take Heath and Henry for their walkies.
It all started (and I've lost track of how many ideas, both good and bad, have begun with that phrase) sometime last summer when I started taking a knife along with me during our walks. This was done not out of any sense of danger but because I had just acquired a Mora Clipper and it was still in the "new toy" phase where I wanted to take it everywhere and use it on everything.
In case you're curious, the blade itself is just under 4"
Brief aside: the Mora is perhaps the most awesome knife I have ever seen. The handle is so amazingly ergonomic it feels like it welds right to my hand, the fit is so natural. The blade itself is made from Sandvik 13C27 steel, which has many enthusiastic supporters among steel mavens and knife aficionados, and every single one I've bought has been x-acto sharp.
But I think the best part about the Clipper is the price. Mora of Sweden has found a way to mass-produce quality knives quickly, so the end result is a cheap knife ($12 US) that isn't cheap at all (quality-wise). In fact, I love this knife so much that I bought one for every member of my family at Christmas (except for my sister, who got the fishing version instead).
So anyway, I was in the habit of taking this very light and comfortable knife with me on our walks, and in so doing I realized that I would benefit from bringing other tools along as well. Before long I had bought a utility belt at the local hardware store and was outfitting it with things I either thought I might need, or had wished I had with me on previous walks.
On my left hip, from left to to right:
In the small of my back sits this cute little pouch from Best Glide. It's called the Personal Survival Kit Holder and I got it at Christmas. (It's supposed to be black, because that's what I asked for, but you know how parents and internet shopping mix poorly.) It's quietly adorable in a Batman-esque manner.
It holds a disposable poncho (in case I get caught in a sudden, unexpected Florida rainstorm), a pair of sealable sandwich bags for picking up doggie poop, and a handy little metal tin about the size and thickness of a pack of index cards that holds first aid supplies. Considering all the tramping about through the underbrush we do, this last one is a godsend, as it's good for treating scrapes and scratches and insect bites.
This last item is the one I've never had to use, and I hope I never do. (Yes, I've used the knife on the walk before; it's great for cutting through vines and other underbrush that have conspired to snag me by the socks or my dogs by the fur.) It's a Schrade 16-inch collapsible steel baton, and yes, it's perfectly legal for me to own and take with me on a walk, because Florida is an open-carry state.
Remember when I said it was important to know if there's a dog coming our way? As it turns out there's a dog (I hear it's at least part wolf, and it certainly looks the part) in our neighborhood that is both aggressive and poorly-controlled by its owners. I don't blame the dog, mind you, but I don't trust its owners. Case in point:
We were walking past their house with our dogs when their dog came racing through an open door at us, barking and growling and baring its teeth. Normally I would be okay with this, except that the dog left their property and confronted us in the street. I believe that their dog would have continued to charge and attack us or our dogs if I had not fixed it with my patented "You'd best back the FUCK OFF" eye-contact death glare. Instead, it just screeched to a halt, but then it held its position, growling and crouching as if to attack.
We called for the owners, but they didn't reply. My right hand was on my baton; it wasn't out yet, but I could have extended it if that dog charged us. (Yes, I am foolish enough to risk personal injury to protect my dogs. They're family, after all.) My left hand grabbed my storm whistle, and I blew that sucker for as loud and as long as I could.
I don't know if the noise hurt its ears, or scared it, or what, but apparently the dog decided that between the noise I was making and my not-backing-down posture, this was a battle it wouldn't win, and so it turned around and went back inside the house.
Everyone was very happy I had my D Belt that day, and as far as I'm concerned, that incident alone has justified its expense and existence.
(Your Auntie Palette is holding out for a ruling of "Tutti Frutti" and will be dreadfully disappointed with any other result.)
But be that as it may, at some points I actually manage to be prudent and sensible, and to that end I present you with my D Belt. The D is for Dog-walking, and I strap this assembly around my waist every afternoon when I take Heath and Henry for their walkies.
It all started (and I've lost track of how many ideas, both good and bad, have begun with that phrase) sometime last summer when I started taking a knife along with me during our walks. This was done not out of any sense of danger but because I had just acquired a Mora Clipper and it was still in the "new toy" phase where I wanted to take it everywhere and use it on everything.
In case you're curious, the blade itself is just under 4"Brief aside: the Mora is perhaps the most awesome knife I have ever seen. The handle is so amazingly ergonomic it feels like it welds right to my hand, the fit is so natural. The blade itself is made from Sandvik 13C27 steel, which has many enthusiastic supporters among steel mavens and knife aficionados, and every single one I've bought has been x-acto sharp.
But I think the best part about the Clipper is the price. Mora of Sweden has found a way to mass-produce quality knives quickly, so the end result is a cheap knife ($12 US) that isn't cheap at all (quality-wise). In fact, I love this knife so much that I bought one for every member of my family at Christmas (except for my sister, who got the fishing version instead).
So anyway, I was in the habit of taking this very light and comfortable knife with me on our walks, and in so doing I realized that I would benefit from bringing other tools along as well. Before long I had bought a utility belt at the local hardware store and was outfitting it with things I either thought I might need, or had wished I had with me on previous walks.
On my left hip, from left to to right:
- A key to the house, a storm whistle, and a compass/thermometer, lashed together with a rubber band and attached to a retractable keychain
- A mini-maglite
- Tasco 10x25 monocular
In the small of my back sits this cute little pouch from Best Glide. It's called the Personal Survival Kit Holder and I got it at Christmas. (It's supposed to be black, because that's what I asked for, but you know how parents and internet shopping mix poorly.) It's quietly adorable in a Batman-esque manner.
It holds a disposable poncho (in case I get caught in a sudden, unexpected Florida rainstorm), a pair of sealable sandwich bags for picking up doggie poop, and a handy little metal tin about the size and thickness of a pack of index cards that holds first aid supplies. Considering all the tramping about through the underbrush we do, this last one is a godsend, as it's good for treating scrapes and scratches and insect bites.
This last item is the one I've never had to use, and I hope I never do. (Yes, I've used the knife on the walk before; it's great for cutting through vines and other underbrush that have conspired to snag me by the socks or my dogs by the fur.) It's a Schrade 16-inch collapsible steel baton, and yes, it's perfectly legal for me to own and take with me on a walk, because Florida is an open-carry state.
Remember when I said it was important to know if there's a dog coming our way? As it turns out there's a dog (I hear it's at least part wolf, and it certainly looks the part) in our neighborhood that is both aggressive and poorly-controlled by its owners. I don't blame the dog, mind you, but I don't trust its owners. Case in point:
We were walking past their house with our dogs when their dog came racing through an open door at us, barking and growling and baring its teeth. Normally I would be okay with this, except that the dog left their property and confronted us in the street. I believe that their dog would have continued to charge and attack us or our dogs if I had not fixed it with my patented "You'd best back the FUCK OFF" eye-contact death glare. Instead, it just screeched to a halt, but then it held its position, growling and crouching as if to attack.
We called for the owners, but they didn't reply. My right hand was on my baton; it wasn't out yet, but I could have extended it if that dog charged us. (Yes, I am foolish enough to risk personal injury to protect my dogs. They're family, after all.) My left hand grabbed my storm whistle, and I blew that sucker for as loud and as long as I could.
I don't know if the noise hurt its ears, or scared it, or what, but apparently the dog decided that between the noise I was making and my not-backing-down posture, this was a battle it wouldn't win, and so it turned around and went back inside the house.
Everyone was very happy I had my D Belt that day, and as far as I'm concerned, that incident alone has justified its expense and existence.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Z-Kit Supplemental
It's been a while since I've talked about my Z-Kit, and that's a shame, because in the months since I last mentioned it I've upgraded it quite substantially.
And, well, the whole business with my mother possibly having cancer has made me start thinking about it again. I'm not sure what it says about my mental state when my first reaction to news that a loved one might have a fatal illness is to start looking at survival gear.
Especially guns. I know I had an initial "no guns" policy for the Z-Kit, but for some reason I got it into my head that I really, really wanted a .22 rifle for hunting.
There are several reasons why I picked a .22 instead of a bigger round, like a .30-06:
The U.S. Survival .22 is the most recent iteration of the AR-7, which a lot of you might recognize from the James Bond movie "From Russia with Love".
This has a lot of great features:
Regarding that last point: I know some people will say "But Palette, just because a gun is cheap doesn't mean you should get it!" And to that I reply, "This is what I can afford, and even then I'll still need to save up for 3-5 months. I figure a cheap gun is better than having no gun at all."
"Why not just buy the black version?" Strangely, the difference between silver and black is about $50. If I go with the silver version, I can buy it, plus a 4x32 scope for it, for the same price as a black one and still have enough money for camo tape.
"But Palette, why a scope?" Because I'm not that good a shot and need all the help I can get.
"Why not get a bigger rifle? Or a shotgun?" Because they're more than I can afford, and they're big and heavy, and so is their ammunition. This is a contingency weapon, not an every-weekend thing.
"Why not get a Scout M6?" I would love to. I think the over/under rifle-shotgun combo is unbeatable. But they aren't being manufactured right now, and scarcity has driven their prices up past what I can afford.
But whereas the Henry is very modern, the Marlin Model 60 is decidedly old-school. It's twice as heavy and doesn't disassemble, which is bad for portability but means it's a lot more durable. Reliability means a lot if I have to do subsistence hunting. It also has a longstanding reputation for being very accurate straight out of the box (and even more so with a sight) and has a 14-round magazine vs the Henry's 8-round. I'm also given to understand there are plenty of after-market conversions for it, so if I were inclined I could eventually swap out the stock, er, stock on it and replace it with something lighter.
Ironically, I think the biggest drawback this gun has is that it looks like a gun all the time, as opposed to the Henry which sometimes just looks like a plastic stock. Now if I were a weekend hunter, there's no debate which one I'd pick: I'd go with the Marlin every time, because I'm a big believer in form following function. But if my desired function is "small, light, looks innocuous" then this guy is right out. On the other hand, some folks have claimed that the Henry is awkward to fire and inaccurate, even with a scope. And the Marlin doesn't come in a nasty silver color.
Surprisingly, the Marlin 60 is also ~$150, so it's not a simple case of "buy whichever one costs less." In researching these rifles, I've found they're a lot like sports teams: some people say they are wonderfully wicked awesome, and others feel they're unreliable pieces of cheap junk.
So, I put it to you, my dear readers: Which one should I get?
And, well, the whole business with my mother possibly having cancer has made me start thinking about it again. I'm not sure what it says about my mental state when my first reaction to news that a loved one might have a fatal illness is to start looking at survival gear.
Especially guns. I know I had an initial "no guns" policy for the Z-Kit, but for some reason I got it into my head that I really, really wanted a .22 rifle for hunting.
There are several reasons why I picked a .22 instead of a bigger round, like a .30-06:
- .22 caliber is light, cheap, and plentiful; I can buy a box of a thousand rounds for about five bucks, they won't weigh me down like a heavier caliber will, and I can get them practically anywhere.
- A light round means a light rifle, and size/weight/portability are important.
- It's the perfect caliber for subsistence hunting (because I don't fool myself into thinking I can bring down a deer, but I know I can plink a squirrel or two if needed).
- Recoil and noise are minimal.
- When cops see a .22, they don't immediately go "OMG LETHAL WEAPON". Yes, I know it's possible to kill someone with a .22, but there's less stigma attached to it for some reason.
The U.S. Survival .22 is the most recent iteration of the AR-7, which a lot of you might recognize from the James Bond movie "From Russia with Love".
This has a lot of great features:
- It weighs 2.5 pounds
- It floats
- The receiver and barrel fit into the stock for compactness
- It's cheap (the silver version can be bought for ~$150)
Regarding that last point: I know some people will say "But Palette, just because a gun is cheap doesn't mean you should get it!" And to that I reply, "This is what I can afford, and even then I'll still need to save up for 3-5 months. I figure a cheap gun is better than having no gun at all."
"Why not just buy the black version?" Strangely, the difference between silver and black is about $50. If I go with the silver version, I can buy it, plus a 4x32 scope for it, for the same price as a black one and still have enough money for camo tape.
"But Palette, why a scope?" Because I'm not that good a shot and need all the help I can get.
"Why not get a bigger rifle? Or a shotgun?" Because they're more than I can afford, and they're big and heavy, and so is their ammunition. This is a contingency weapon, not an every-weekend thing.
"Why not get a Scout M6?" I would love to. I think the over/under rifle-shotgun combo is unbeatable. But they aren't being manufactured right now, and scarcity has driven their prices up past what I can afford.
But whereas the Henry is very modern, the Marlin Model 60 is decidedly old-school. It's twice as heavy and doesn't disassemble, which is bad for portability but means it's a lot more durable. Reliability means a lot if I have to do subsistence hunting. It also has a longstanding reputation for being very accurate straight out of the box (and even more so with a sight) and has a 14-round magazine vs the Henry's 8-round. I'm also given to understand there are plenty of after-market conversions for it, so if I were inclined I could eventually swap out the stock, er, stock on it and replace it with something lighter.Ironically, I think the biggest drawback this gun has is that it looks like a gun all the time, as opposed to the Henry which sometimes just looks like a plastic stock. Now if I were a weekend hunter, there's no debate which one I'd pick: I'd go with the Marlin every time, because I'm a big believer in form following function. But if my desired function is "small, light, looks innocuous" then this guy is right out. On the other hand, some folks have claimed that the Henry is awkward to fire and inaccurate, even with a scope. And the Marlin doesn't come in a nasty silver color.
Surprisingly, the Marlin 60 is also ~$150, so it's not a simple case of "buy whichever one costs less." In researching these rifles, I've found they're a lot like sports teams: some people say they are wonderfully wicked awesome, and others feel they're unreliable pieces of cheap junk.
So, I put it to you, my dear readers: Which one should I get?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Oh goddammit
There's about a 90% chance my mother has ovarian cancer. She had some tests today, and a CAT scan is scheduled for Thursday. We should know for sure next Monday.
Either way, she's scheduled to have her ovaries removed. The big question is if they're removed by a gynecologist or an oncologist.
The good news is that she's in her 70s, so losing her ovaries is no big whoop. And she's in great shape (2nd degree black belt in Shotokan Karate).
The bad news is that she's at that age where it takes people forever to recover from even minimally invasive procedures. It's a good thing I'm here to help around the house or things would really go to hell.
We are not thinking about the possibility of worse news.
Either way, she's scheduled to have her ovaries removed. The big question is if they're removed by a gynecologist or an oncologist.
The good news is that she's in her 70s, so losing her ovaries is no big whoop. And she's in great shape (2nd degree black belt in Shotokan Karate).
The bad news is that she's at that age where it takes people forever to recover from even minimally invasive procedures. It's a good thing I'm here to help around the house or things would really go to hell.
We are not thinking about the possibility of worse news.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The secret meaning of Pellatarrum
I have been reminded by a certain infernal lagomorph that I am a week late in revealing the true meaning of Pellatarrum, as I had promised earlier. I shall rectify that now, though I warn you, the truth is both boring and lame.
For the longest time, I had the concept of Pellatarrum worked out in my head but lacked a suitable name for, and instead referred to it as "my fantasy world," a name which got the job done but lacked a certain luster.
Attempts at freeform naming resulted in either gibberish or words which didn't feel properly fantastic. Naming, as we all know, is a very aesthetic endeavor.
Eventually I tired of the situation and resolved to finish it, even if it meant having to cheat. So I went online and looked up the Latin words for "Palette"(pala, which technically is a spade and therefore closer to palette knife than anything else, but it's the best I could do) and "World" (terrarum, from orbis terrarrum, meaning "the Earth"), picked a declension I liked, and messed with them a bit until they sounded right.
So, Pellatarrum is very sloppy Latin for "Palette's World". Isn't that thrilling?
For the longest time, I had the concept of Pellatarrum worked out in my head but lacked a suitable name for, and instead referred to it as "my fantasy world," a name which got the job done but lacked a certain luster.
Attempts at freeform naming resulted in either gibberish or words which didn't feel properly fantastic. Naming, as we all know, is a very aesthetic endeavor.
Eventually I tired of the situation and resolved to finish it, even if it meant having to cheat. So I went online and looked up the Latin words for "Palette"(pala, which technically is a spade and therefore closer to palette knife than anything else, but it's the best I could do) and "World" (terrarum, from orbis terrarrum, meaning "the Earth"), picked a declension I liked, and messed with them a bit until they sounded right.
So, Pellatarrum is very sloppy Latin for "Palette's World". Isn't that thrilling?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
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