I don't have the time or the energy for a Long, Thoughtful Post--even provided I had Long-Winded, Thoughtful things to say. So the quickie version:
My apartment looks like a moving van threw up in it. There are a ton of packed boxes, because I packed crap on Saturday until I ran out of tape and wrapping supplies--all of the books, and the summer and winter clothes, and some of the dishes, are packed and stacked in various locations in the apartment. But then I had to stop, and, until I can get to the store and get more supplies, I can't pack any more. If I put in a solid day on Saturday, I should be fine, but it's kind of whirlwindy right now, and it makes me a little crazy.
I'm trying to move in two weeks or so, even though I didn't manage to get out of my old lease early. They're not going to get the keys until the lease actually runs out unless they relent, but, hey, I'd rather leave someone else's property unattended than my own.
The closing is still scheduled for next Monday. Theoretically. Let me just say that, if, two years ago, the banks had been as particular about having every last fucking cent documented in four different ways before they agreed to a mortgage, then the fucking financial system would not have fucking melted down. Yes, I AM peevish; why do you ask? Of course I understand the golden rule--he who has the gold makes the rules--but it makes me roll my eyes because they already have a big wad of information showing that I am actually likely to pay my mortgage each month and they still want more. Apparently they are unfamiliar with people who live within their means, save money, don't have a wad of consumer debt, etc.
The first tile-making class was entertaining. I'm not going to be able to learn enough or get good enough in the ten weeks allotted for this class--not least because i won't be able to spend other time there (the studio allows you to go in whenever, not just when you have class)--but I can see that it's something that could entertain me for awhile. Turns out that I really like making things. Oh; wait; I already knew that. I've always had some kind of project going on, and, more often than not, it has involved learning a new skill of some kind. So, really, there are two parts to it--making something, which has usually but not always been a part of it, and learning (or teaching myself) something new, whether it's needlepoint, or knitting, or handball, or yoga, or drawing and painting, or baking, or whatever.
The child-molestation ring that is apparently the Catholic church disgusts me and angers me. If any other group of people had members who systematically abused children for years and other members who covered for the molesters, everyone would be up in arms. And the fact that the same group still feels free to pass judgment on the rest of us? Bite me. Two times.
Okay, that's not all of the news, but it's almost 5 am (yeah, I know; I woke up at 3:30 this morning and it became apparent that I wasn't going back to sleep, even though I have a long day ahead of me) so time to do some yoga, make some oatmeal, and head to work for a day of long meetings about budgets.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Crime Scenes
Nearly all of my entertainment is crime-related these days: I'm making my way through the Parker and Spenser novels, and my current Netflix choices are the Inspector Morse series and, this past week, the first season of "Hill Street Blues," which is still, IMHO, the best show ever broadcast. Unfortunately, only the first two seasons ever made it to DVD legitimately (I've seen some stuff for sale that I think isn't quite legit that claims to provide all seasons of the show), so I am destined to be left wanting more. Back in the day, when HSB was first broadcast, I made no plans for Thursday night that did not involve being in front of the TV, watching the latest installment. (This was long before VCRs, DVDs, TiVo, Television Without Pity, etc., and you either saw it or you didn't.)
The show hasn't been on television much since then, despite having produced enough episodes for syndication, because the stories overlapped and the threads often ran through multiple episodes, and they'd make no sense if you didn't watch them in order, which, I imagine, would make syndicated broadcast difficult. In the first five shows of the first season, for example, there's some question of whether one of the cops is on the take. If you saw those episodes out of order, they'd make no sense. In the first three or four episodes, the precinct is preparing for a visit from the president, which involves a gang truce that Furillo negotiates. (Most amusing cameo so far: a gap-toothed David Caruso, as the leader of the "Shamrocks," an Irish gang. Which, really? An Irish gang? In which city, in the 1980s?)
The creators of the show never specified what city it was, though I do remember Philadelphia's city hall making an appearance in a couple of shows. I later learned that the scenes of the outside of the precinct house were filmed in Chicago, at the Maxwell Street house. I realize now--now that I've seen the originals, as it were--several other of the opening scenes, most particularly one with an Old Style sign outside a bar, were also filmed in Chicago; I think most of the rest of it was filmed in L.A., even though the city has the weather and the grit of an old industrial city--Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Chicago, something like that.
Anyway, one of the things that has become glaring is how technology has changed in the last 30 to 40 years. In the Parker (and Dortmunder) novels, for example, Parker acts and talks like someone out of the 1950s, maybe early 60s. I think, as Robert Parker did with Spenser, the origins get blurred a little in the later novels, so that he can still be doing his thing in the 1990s and not have to be 85 years old to make the math work out. (In one of the early novels, Spenser says something about serving in Korea--which would have been in the early '50s, and would make him around the same age as my dad, who is 79. I remember reading that in later novels, it sounds as though he served in Vietnam, not Korea. Similarly, Parker has a dishonorable discharge somewhere in his past.) But in one of the later novels that I read out of turn, Parker observes that it's harder to find wads of cash these days, where so many transactions happen electronically rather than with piles of paper in hand.
I can't help wondering what would have happened if Parker and Spenser had crossed paths. The reality is, they likely would not have. Both of them operate on the principle that people do stupid shit, and they find ways to exploit that, Parker for his own benefit and Spenser for his clients' benefit, but neither of them does a lot of stupid shit of their own. Parker doesn't mind killing someone, at least not in the early novels (though Dortmunder and Kelp and their compatriots never resort to violence), but he doesn't do it out of pure malice. If someone gets in the way--typically by intruding in some way on Parker's activities, rather than by innocently stumbling into the path--Parker does not hesitate to kill him or her, but in general it's not his preference. He doesn't kill for fun, and he doesn't kill if he doesn't have to do so, which kind of sets him apart from the crime that hits our newspapers, and, most importantly for this what-if, he avoids making stupid mistakes himself; killing someone unnecessarily is stupid.
On HSB, all of the phone calls are on land lines--many even on public phones--because no one had cell phones in 1982. Thus, communication is actually a plot point in many ways: where is this person, where that conversation can be held, what kinds of tracing are possible. By way of contrast, I have conducted about 85% to 90% of the business of buying a condo via email, other than actually looking at the place. I have never met the lawyers in person, though I have spoken with the lawyer and her assistant several times (including twice today, as we finalized the papers that are going back to the sellers). I have met the mortgage guy once. I never met the appraiser, though I have paid them money. Except for some mortgage papers that I signed in person--in part so the mortgage guy could explain things to me in person--I've even submitted a lot of paperwork to him via email. The papers the lawyers have sent on my behalf, for example--i've only seen PDFs of them.
But being so immersed in crime (and hockey and racing) is a little weird, even if the crime is fictional and even if my reading and viewing is on both sides of the line, as it were. It also makes me wonder what it is that makes someone decide that theft is the way to make one's money, and it definitely makes me sure that I have little or no interest in making my living that way.
I haven't forgotten kstyle's comments, either, about baking and cooking, but it's time for bed, so those musings will have to wait.
The show hasn't been on television much since then, despite having produced enough episodes for syndication, because the stories overlapped and the threads often ran through multiple episodes, and they'd make no sense if you didn't watch them in order, which, I imagine, would make syndicated broadcast difficult. In the first five shows of the first season, for example, there's some question of whether one of the cops is on the take. If you saw those episodes out of order, they'd make no sense. In the first three or four episodes, the precinct is preparing for a visit from the president, which involves a gang truce that Furillo negotiates. (Most amusing cameo so far: a gap-toothed David Caruso, as the leader of the "Shamrocks," an Irish gang. Which, really? An Irish gang? In which city, in the 1980s?)
The creators of the show never specified what city it was, though I do remember Philadelphia's city hall making an appearance in a couple of shows. I later learned that the scenes of the outside of the precinct house were filmed in Chicago, at the Maxwell Street house. I realize now--now that I've seen the originals, as it were--several other of the opening scenes, most particularly one with an Old Style sign outside a bar, were also filmed in Chicago; I think most of the rest of it was filmed in L.A., even though the city has the weather and the grit of an old industrial city--Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Chicago, something like that.
Anyway, one of the things that has become glaring is how technology has changed in the last 30 to 40 years. In the Parker (and Dortmunder) novels, for example, Parker acts and talks like someone out of the 1950s, maybe early 60s. I think, as Robert Parker did with Spenser, the origins get blurred a little in the later novels, so that he can still be doing his thing in the 1990s and not have to be 85 years old to make the math work out. (In one of the early novels, Spenser says something about serving in Korea--which would have been in the early '50s, and would make him around the same age as my dad, who is 79. I remember reading that in later novels, it sounds as though he served in Vietnam, not Korea. Similarly, Parker has a dishonorable discharge somewhere in his past.) But in one of the later novels that I read out of turn, Parker observes that it's harder to find wads of cash these days, where so many transactions happen electronically rather than with piles of paper in hand.
I can't help wondering what would have happened if Parker and Spenser had crossed paths. The reality is, they likely would not have. Both of them operate on the principle that people do stupid shit, and they find ways to exploit that, Parker for his own benefit and Spenser for his clients' benefit, but neither of them does a lot of stupid shit of their own. Parker doesn't mind killing someone, at least not in the early novels (though Dortmunder and Kelp and their compatriots never resort to violence), but he doesn't do it out of pure malice. If someone gets in the way--typically by intruding in some way on Parker's activities, rather than by innocently stumbling into the path--Parker does not hesitate to kill him or her, but in general it's not his preference. He doesn't kill for fun, and he doesn't kill if he doesn't have to do so, which kind of sets him apart from the crime that hits our newspapers, and, most importantly for this what-if, he avoids making stupid mistakes himself; killing someone unnecessarily is stupid.
On HSB, all of the phone calls are on land lines--many even on public phones--because no one had cell phones in 1982. Thus, communication is actually a plot point in many ways: where is this person, where that conversation can be held, what kinds of tracing are possible. By way of contrast, I have conducted about 85% to 90% of the business of buying a condo via email, other than actually looking at the place. I have never met the lawyers in person, though I have spoken with the lawyer and her assistant several times (including twice today, as we finalized the papers that are going back to the sellers). I have met the mortgage guy once. I never met the appraiser, though I have paid them money. Except for some mortgage papers that I signed in person--in part so the mortgage guy could explain things to me in person--I've even submitted a lot of paperwork to him via email. The papers the lawyers have sent on my behalf, for example--i've only seen PDFs of them.
But being so immersed in crime (and hockey and racing) is a little weird, even if the crime is fictional and even if my reading and viewing is on both sides of the line, as it were. It also makes me wonder what it is that makes someone decide that theft is the way to make one's money, and it definitely makes me sure that I have little or no interest in making my living that way.
I haven't forgotten kstyle's comments, either, about baking and cooking, but it's time for bed, so those musings will have to wait.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Wait for It
As those of you who have purchased property know, there's a lot of hurry-up-and-wait, and I'm in the middle of one of those periods right now. The lawyers appear to have completed the backing and forthing; the appraisal is happening (or perhaps has already happened; they called me the other day to get money from me); the mortgage has been pre-approved, so I think the appraisal is the final step in that.
The one kink is that my parents very generously offered to throw in some cash for the down payment, and they sent it via certified mail. My mom chose that method because, according to the people at the post office, it's tracked and signed for at every step of the way. Except she mailed it three fucking weeks ago, and no one seems to know where it is. I don't think it's going to become an issue--the closing date is supposedly April 5th, so there are two weeks to get this figured out--but my parents and I will both feel a lot better when it's done, not to mention when the checks are found.
Meanwhile, I've started to contemplate packing, and Friend brought some boxes over today--the boxes I used four years ago, as a matter of fact. This is at least the third, and possibly the fourth, time they've been used for a move, as I got them from someone in my yoga class, and I think that someone Friend knows also used them. I'm just glad I don't have to buy boxes or kill trees to do this.
I'm contemplating packing a lot of the kitchen first, even though that's the area where I'm least likely to get rid of stuff. I have no plans to bake a bundt cake in the next two months, for example, or make lasagna, or use my ramekins, but I'm not going to get rid of that stuff, either. I have two coffee pots--a 12-cup Mr. Coffee, and a small three-ish (depending on the size of your cup or mug) pot, and I have used neither of them in four years, so it's probably safe to pack them, too, but, again, I'm not going to get rid of them. And so on. I'm not going to pack every last kitchen item, but there's no reason not to start cleaning and packing the stuff I know I'm not going to use. Same with the books.
So, yeah. I'll, uh, get right on that. Just not today.
Not that I did a whole lot. During my trip downtown to get my hair trimmed (can you stand the excitement that is my life??), I walked through one of the areas that has a bunch of bars with faux irish names. Perhaps needless to say, I saw drunk people. Many, many drunk people. In green-themed costumes. Standing in lines to pay a cover charge to get into a bar and pay exorbitantly to drink some abominable "lite" beer. And all of this was 1:15 in the afternoon, so there's no telling how drunk everyone is at this point; I'm just glad I'm not among them.
The one kink is that my parents very generously offered to throw in some cash for the down payment, and they sent it via certified mail. My mom chose that method because, according to the people at the post office, it's tracked and signed for at every step of the way. Except she mailed it three fucking weeks ago, and no one seems to know where it is. I don't think it's going to become an issue--the closing date is supposedly April 5th, so there are two weeks to get this figured out--but my parents and I will both feel a lot better when it's done, not to mention when the checks are found.
Meanwhile, I've started to contemplate packing, and Friend brought some boxes over today--the boxes I used four years ago, as a matter of fact. This is at least the third, and possibly the fourth, time they've been used for a move, as I got them from someone in my yoga class, and I think that someone Friend knows also used them. I'm just glad I don't have to buy boxes or kill trees to do this.
I'm contemplating packing a lot of the kitchen first, even though that's the area where I'm least likely to get rid of stuff. I have no plans to bake a bundt cake in the next two months, for example, or make lasagna, or use my ramekins, but I'm not going to get rid of that stuff, either. I have two coffee pots--a 12-cup Mr. Coffee, and a small three-ish (depending on the size of your cup or mug) pot, and I have used neither of them in four years, so it's probably safe to pack them, too, but, again, I'm not going to get rid of them. And so on. I'm not going to pack every last kitchen item, but there's no reason not to start cleaning and packing the stuff I know I'm not going to use. Same with the books.
So, yeah. I'll, uh, get right on that. Just not today.
Not that I did a whole lot. During my trip downtown to get my hair trimmed (can you stand the excitement that is my life??), I walked through one of the areas that has a bunch of bars with faux irish names. Perhaps needless to say, I saw drunk people. Many, many drunk people. In green-themed costumes. Standing in lines to pay a cover charge to get into a bar and pay exorbitantly to drink some abominable "lite" beer. And all of this was 1:15 in the afternoon, so there's no telling how drunk everyone is at this point; I'm just glad I'm not among them.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Wild Turkey Rag(u)
First, the inspection. By and large, it went fine. There are a couple of smallish things, mostly plumbing-related, but I hope they don't derail the thing. My understanding from others is that this isn't unusual; given my lack of experience, I will only be convinced when I take possession of the property. Or, rather, take residence therein; I won't take "possession," per se, until 2040, at which point I would be 81 years old. Which kind of freaks me out a little, so I'm not going to think about it.
I was further distracted/depressed on Sunday by news that a cousin was killed in a motorcycle accident this weekend--he was 54. His mother (who is my mother's first cousin, so i guess he's my second cousin?) and sister are favorites of mine (he lived on the west coast, so I haven't seen him in years and years), and it's just terribly sad. My parents are upset, too, not surprisingly.
Yesterday Friend and I hung out, watched hockey, played cribbage, and finally got around to doing some cooking. He had some wild turkey legs and thighs that he had cooked in his slow cooker last weekend; he has discovered that that method makes it easier to separate the meat from the tendony fibrous bits, and he likes to make gumbo with the meat. But he had more than he needed for the gumbo, so I got to use some of it.
I took two pieces of bacon and cooked them, mostly to render the fat. I removed nearly all of the rendered fat, as well as the cooked bacon, from the pan, and then sauteed a diced onion and several pressed cloves of garlic in the bacon grease. When they were done, I added some onions, shitakis, and wine sauce from last weekend's sauce for the venison steak, as well as the crumbled bacon. That cooked for awhile, then I added the shredded turkey, a drained and rinsed can of white beans, and a bag of frozen herbed slow-roasted tomatos from my freezer that I'd brought over there awhile ago. I added a splash of madeira and a splash of balsamic vinegar and I let it simmer away for a little while. I made some whole wheat fusilli, and, a minute or two before it was done, I added a bag of baby spinach (i.e., just long enough to barely cook the spinach). Sauce on top of the spinach/pasta mixture, with some grated cheese of some kind on top. (I have no idea what the cheese was; I'd brought it over, but quite awhile ago.) Extremely tasty, I must say. For dessert, last week's caramel plus bananas plus walnuts, except this time I had chocolate ice cream and Friend's freshly made banana bread over which to put everything, plus I fucked up the caramel sauce (crystallized the sugar instead of having a nice smooth caramel).
As i worked out yesterday morning in Friend's basement, I was listening to my iPod but also had the Food channel on for visuals (the sound was down). I was guessing that I was going to be able to follow along. One of the shows was something about five ingredients--I think no dish had more than five ingredients? In any case, yesterday's show featured:
1. oven-roasted grape tomatos, with garlic and olive oil
2. creamed spinach (with heavy cream)
3. beef filets stuffed and topped with a butter/stilton cheese mix
4. white chocolate mousse (egg yolks, cream, white chocolate, sugar)
All I could think was how much fat would be in that meal. My arteries ached just looking at it.
And it's not as though I never eat like that--Friend and I had French food Friday night. He had scallops with some kind of creamy mashed potatos and about a pound of butter, as well as a cream-based soup and a shared chocolate mousse for dessert, and I had coq a vin over black pepper noodles, and started with french lentils and carrots in endive, with some kind of wonderful sauce, as well as half of the mousse, and we both had plenty of bread with roasted garlic spread on it.
Both of us were stuffed as a result--I even took some home--despite not having had lunch that day. It was quite good, of course, but I truly don't want to eat like that more than once every couple of weeks. And that's what kind of irritated me about the TV show. It wasn't being presented as "special-occasion" food, it was being presented as everyday food--look, only five ingredients, so easy to whip up! Yes, i realize that grains and veggies and beans aren't all that exciting, at first glance, and don't make exciting television . . . or would they? Actually, I'd like to see that (I'd like to DO that): making quick, tasty meals that don't give you a heart attack. Even better--the leftovers heat for lunches, and/or can be combined to make whole new meals. Wouldn't that be a more useful cooking show?
I was further distracted/depressed on Sunday by news that a cousin was killed in a motorcycle accident this weekend--he was 54. His mother (who is my mother's first cousin, so i guess he's my second cousin?) and sister are favorites of mine (he lived on the west coast, so I haven't seen him in years and years), and it's just terribly sad. My parents are upset, too, not surprisingly.
Yesterday Friend and I hung out, watched hockey, played cribbage, and finally got around to doing some cooking. He had some wild turkey legs and thighs that he had cooked in his slow cooker last weekend; he has discovered that that method makes it easier to separate the meat from the tendony fibrous bits, and he likes to make gumbo with the meat. But he had more than he needed for the gumbo, so I got to use some of it.
I took two pieces of bacon and cooked them, mostly to render the fat. I removed nearly all of the rendered fat, as well as the cooked bacon, from the pan, and then sauteed a diced onion and several pressed cloves of garlic in the bacon grease. When they were done, I added some onions, shitakis, and wine sauce from last weekend's sauce for the venison steak, as well as the crumbled bacon. That cooked for awhile, then I added the shredded turkey, a drained and rinsed can of white beans, and a bag of frozen herbed slow-roasted tomatos from my freezer that I'd brought over there awhile ago. I added a splash of madeira and a splash of balsamic vinegar and I let it simmer away for a little while. I made some whole wheat fusilli, and, a minute or two before it was done, I added a bag of baby spinach (i.e., just long enough to barely cook the spinach). Sauce on top of the spinach/pasta mixture, with some grated cheese of some kind on top. (I have no idea what the cheese was; I'd brought it over, but quite awhile ago.) Extremely tasty, I must say. For dessert, last week's caramel plus bananas plus walnuts, except this time I had chocolate ice cream and Friend's freshly made banana bread over which to put everything, plus I fucked up the caramel sauce (crystallized the sugar instead of having a nice smooth caramel).
As i worked out yesterday morning in Friend's basement, I was listening to my iPod but also had the Food channel on for visuals (the sound was down). I was guessing that I was going to be able to follow along. One of the shows was something about five ingredients--I think no dish had more than five ingredients? In any case, yesterday's show featured:
1. oven-roasted grape tomatos, with garlic and olive oil
2. creamed spinach (with heavy cream)
3. beef filets stuffed and topped with a butter/stilton cheese mix
4. white chocolate mousse (egg yolks, cream, white chocolate, sugar)
All I could think was how much fat would be in that meal. My arteries ached just looking at it.
And it's not as though I never eat like that--Friend and I had French food Friday night. He had scallops with some kind of creamy mashed potatos and about a pound of butter, as well as a cream-based soup and a shared chocolate mousse for dessert, and I had coq a vin over black pepper noodles, and started with french lentils and carrots in endive, with some kind of wonderful sauce, as well as half of the mousse, and we both had plenty of bread with roasted garlic spread on it.
Both of us were stuffed as a result--I even took some home--despite not having had lunch that day. It was quite good, of course, but I truly don't want to eat like that more than once every couple of weeks. And that's what kind of irritated me about the TV show. It wasn't being presented as "special-occasion" food, it was being presented as everyday food--look, only five ingredients, so easy to whip up! Yes, i realize that grains and veggies and beans aren't all that exciting, at first glance, and don't make exciting television . . . or would they? Actually, I'd like to see that (I'd like to DO that): making quick, tasty meals that don't give you a heart attack. Even better--the leftovers heat for lunches, and/or can be combined to make whole new meals. Wouldn't that be a more useful cooking show?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Have a Cup
Things are proceeding, though not apace: the inspection was scheduled for this morning at 9:00 am, but the inspector called at 7:30 am, while I was in transit, to tell me that he had been up all night sick, he could usually work through being sick, but they were sticking an IV in him at the moment, and he was really really sorry. My agent said he was very apologetic with her, too. So, no big deal, we asked for an extension of the 5-day period, we rescheduled the inspection for Saturday morning, and I continue to take care of other bits (getting the last bits together for the mortgage; lining up homeowner's insurance; that kind of crap).
We may be looking at an early- or mid-April closing, which means my new place and my apartment lease would overlap for seven weeks or so, which is perhaps a little more than I'd like, but not enough to fuss about too much. Let's face it; I don't actually have a single thing packed yet, I don't have movers lined up (which I can't do until there's a closing anyway), and there may well be things I want to do in the new place that would be done more easily in an empty apartment. I'll take notes on that Saturday during the inspection, though offhand I can't think of much.
I am going to hire people to clean the place before I move in. I normally get squeamish at the thought of hiring people to clean my space--I've never done it, as a matter of fact--but I'm going to make an exception, I think. I may clean the carpet in the second bedroom (or tear it up). But I'm not going to do any painting or anything like that, and, even though I intend to replace the backsplash in the kitchen with handmade (by me) tiles, that's something that will have to happen over time, not something that can be done before I move in.
So, I'll try to ootch the closing date up a week or two--maybe mid-April or so--if it comes to that. The office people have already said it's unlikely the owners will let me out of my lease a month early, which means, fuck 'em, they'll get the keys at midnight on the last day, no matter when I move out. But none of this is all that important, in the long run.
For a complete change of subject, I had a new experience Tuesday: my acupuncturist treated me with cupping, rather than needles. The explanation of the supposed mechanism of action makes me roll my eyes--are you really going to claim that this procedure is drawing out unspecified toxins that are causing my back pain?--and it definitely looks weird. Did it "work"? Hard to say.
A year or more ago, I managed to figure out that I was most likely experiencing sacroiliac joint dysfunction, for which there are two treatments: (1) stab a needle full of novacaine into the joint, and, if it eliminates the pain, it confirms that it is a SI problem; repeat as necessary, because it won't stay pain-free, or (2) surgically bolt the spine to the pelvic bone. Neither of these necessarily works all that well, either. Needless to say, neither of these alternatives appealed to me at all, so I've been trying other strategies, mostly focusing on exercise and acupuncture. The January commitment to daily yoga was a part of that as well, and I was prepared to try physical therapy if none of these other strategies worked.
Back in September, my back pain was persistent, it often radiated down my leg, and I found myself taking ibuprofen nearly every day, sometimes multiple times a day. My initial exercise-plus-acupuncture effort at treatment (I resumed regular exercise after September, when my social life at the time kinda drew me away from it) definitely reduced the pain quite a bit, most of the time. Much as I personally liked the old acupuncturist, the one I started seeing in November/December seems to have done an even better job in further reducing or eliminating the pain. Since the beginning of this year, I've added a very small amount of yoga practice to the mix: I haven't stuck to the every-day part of the program, but I do it probably 4 or 5 days out of 7, and I've added some asanas to the original mix.
And I've gone from pain that sometimes shot up to a 6 (on a 10-point scale) and that was a least somewhat present at milder levels nearly all the time, to discomfort that mostly stays around the 2 range and often disappears completely. (The acupuncturist switched strategies/meridians a month or so ago, which made a noticeable difference.) I take ibuprofen or aspirin less often than once a week, maybe two or three times a month.
In other words, this strategy seems to be working. I rather doubt that any one part of it--yoga, exercise, acupuncture--would have done the trick completely, though of course there's no way to tell for sure. Frankly, I don't care. Sitting here right now, for example, I can "feel" my right hip--the whole joint, radiating very slightly down to my knee and around my back--but it's not stabbing pain, more of a very mild discomfort/awareness, mostly because I'm thinking about it, as opposed to the pain, which was unavoidable and intrusive. So did the cupping help? I have no fucking clue. On the other hand, if I go back to the acupuncturist and say, hey, this thing we're doing isn't working so well, he'll try something else, and it won't be any more intrusive than anything else we've tried, and it will be a fuckload less intrusive than a bolt in my hip, so, I say it's a win.
We may be looking at an early- or mid-April closing, which means my new place and my apartment lease would overlap for seven weeks or so, which is perhaps a little more than I'd like, but not enough to fuss about too much. Let's face it; I don't actually have a single thing packed yet, I don't have movers lined up (which I can't do until there's a closing anyway), and there may well be things I want to do in the new place that would be done more easily in an empty apartment. I'll take notes on that Saturday during the inspection, though offhand I can't think of much.
I am going to hire people to clean the place before I move in. I normally get squeamish at the thought of hiring people to clean my space--I've never done it, as a matter of fact--but I'm going to make an exception, I think. I may clean the carpet in the second bedroom (or tear it up). But I'm not going to do any painting or anything like that, and, even though I intend to replace the backsplash in the kitchen with handmade (by me) tiles, that's something that will have to happen over time, not something that can be done before I move in.
So, I'll try to ootch the closing date up a week or two--maybe mid-April or so--if it comes to that. The office people have already said it's unlikely the owners will let me out of my lease a month early, which means, fuck 'em, they'll get the keys at midnight on the last day, no matter when I move out. But none of this is all that important, in the long run.
For a complete change of subject, I had a new experience Tuesday: my acupuncturist treated me with cupping, rather than needles. The explanation of the supposed mechanism of action makes me roll my eyes--are you really going to claim that this procedure is drawing out unspecified toxins that are causing my back pain?--and it definitely looks weird. Did it "work"? Hard to say.
A year or more ago, I managed to figure out that I was most likely experiencing sacroiliac joint dysfunction, for which there are two treatments: (1) stab a needle full of novacaine into the joint, and, if it eliminates the pain, it confirms that it is a SI problem; repeat as necessary, because it won't stay pain-free, or (2) surgically bolt the spine to the pelvic bone. Neither of these necessarily works all that well, either. Needless to say, neither of these alternatives appealed to me at all, so I've been trying other strategies, mostly focusing on exercise and acupuncture. The January commitment to daily yoga was a part of that as well, and I was prepared to try physical therapy if none of these other strategies worked.
Back in September, my back pain was persistent, it often radiated down my leg, and I found myself taking ibuprofen nearly every day, sometimes multiple times a day. My initial exercise-plus-acupuncture effort at treatment (I resumed regular exercise after September, when my social life at the time kinda drew me away from it) definitely reduced the pain quite a bit, most of the time. Much as I personally liked the old acupuncturist, the one I started seeing in November/December seems to have done an even better job in further reducing or eliminating the pain. Since the beginning of this year, I've added a very small amount of yoga practice to the mix: I haven't stuck to the every-day part of the program, but I do it probably 4 or 5 days out of 7, and I've added some asanas to the original mix.
And I've gone from pain that sometimes shot up to a 6 (on a 10-point scale) and that was a least somewhat present at milder levels nearly all the time, to discomfort that mostly stays around the 2 range and often disappears completely. (The acupuncturist switched strategies/meridians a month or so ago, which made a noticeable difference.) I take ibuprofen or aspirin less often than once a week, maybe two or three times a month.
In other words, this strategy seems to be working. I rather doubt that any one part of it--yoga, exercise, acupuncture--would have done the trick completely, though of course there's no way to tell for sure. Frankly, I don't care. Sitting here right now, for example, I can "feel" my right hip--the whole joint, radiating very slightly down to my knee and around my back--but it's not stabbing pain, more of a very mild discomfort/awareness, mostly because I'm thinking about it, as opposed to the pain, which was unavoidable and intrusive. So did the cupping help? I have no fucking clue. On the other hand, if I go back to the acupuncturist and say, hey, this thing we're doing isn't working so well, he'll try something else, and it won't be any more intrusive than anything else we've tried, and it will be a fuckload less intrusive than a bolt in my hip, so, I say it's a win.
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