I don't cook. At least I try not to. At best, I do what my friend Dennis describes as "heating." You know, throwing a steak on the grill or steaming some green beans or artichokes. That's not really "cooking" like you see of the Food Network. It's just heating.
Apologies to mom (and at least one grandmom, for that matter); the cooking gene just didn't come my way. But when dad took a liking to my chilli last week, I knew that I had a winner! Mind you, there's a recipe involved, but the process is really just an elaborate exercise in "heating."
Fairfield County--which is located in "New England" (please, where are the cows?) but disguises itself as a New York City suburb(closer...)--could arguably be labeled the eye of the Super Bowl hurricane that's about to pass through this weekend. So what better time to let the cat out of the bag on my "top secret" recipe? Sorry. Don't read anything into that...the recipe calls for beef, no feline.
One more disclaimer...I don't cook. I know I already mentioned that, but I don't want you to forget. This recipe comes from my dear, dear southern friend (Bud, where the heck are ya?) from Arkansas: Go Hogs! Sou-weeee! She first served it to us on 1.1.2000. We were at their house in Athens, Georgia watching the Rose Bowl after ringing in the new Millennium the night before. It's the best chili I've ever had. So here goes:
Award Winning Chili (I made that up)
from the Kitchen of Miss Amy Davis Parker...an excellent cook and my dear, dear friend
In a big ol' (her words) stock pot:
Brown 2 lb. of ground beef and drain
Then add to brown:
1 bag of frozen chopped onions (cheating, but who cares)
1 bag of frozen chopped green peppers
2 cans of pinto beans, drained (I only use 1 can, and pinto beans are better than kidney)
Dump in (a technical cooking term):
1 48 oz can Vegetable juice (I was thinking of trying the "spicy" kind, but haven't)
1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes (do NOT use the kind with garlic, basil, or anything else)
1 4 oz. can chopped green chillies
4 Tablespoons of Chili Powder (I use more)
pepper, salt, garlic and cumin to taste (see, it's not technical)
and here's the kicker...
1 bottle of beer or ale (I've tried all different kinds and Bass or Sam Adams works best. The most recent batch, I used TWO bottles and just let it cook off a little longer to thicken up).
HA! That's all there is to it. Let it simmer for several hours (at least three), until it has thickened up. Stir occasionally.
This recipe makes a pretty good-sized batch, enough for about a dozen people.
We serve it with garnishes:
sour cream
shredded cheddar cheese
chopped red onion
Miss Amy served it with homemade corn bread, but that involved more than just heating...
What's your favorite Super Bowl recipe?
1.31.2008
1.29.2008
Feel Like 'Walking in Memphis'?
OK...here's your reward for faithfully logging into this continuing babel.
My thoughtful husband--with only the most sentimental and romantic intentions--gave me (er,us) two tickets for Marc Cohn (Feb.15th at Tarrytown) as a Christmas gift. We LOVE Marc Cohn (like the rest of the world, we played "True Companion" at our wedding) and have been to at least eight concerts in the last few years. This one is especially special (is that a word?) b.c. Marc FINALLY (after only about 4 years waiting) has a new album out...and it's brilliant. What a GREAT Christmas gift...and so thoughtful.
Here's the problem...I'm not as thoughtful, and I didn't know what to get Todd for Christmas. So, I checked his trial calendar at work and went ahead and booked a long weekend (Feb. 14 - 18th) in the Wine Country of California. There's the problem...we can't do both.
Since I'm unwilling to "give away" our trip, and Todd--when given a choice--picked the trip, then I'm very willing to GIVE AWAY the concert tickets. That's right, you don't have to go backwards and re-read ... it says GIVE AWAY. Quite frankly, the "cheapie" in me tried to sell them on line. I logged on the Marc Cohn fan site (where I've been a member for the last six years), and posted a notice that I'd be selling the tix on eBay. Then I posted a 7-day auction on eBay with narry a nibble.
Marc Cohn is a little bit obscure (many years ago he won the grammy as "best new artist," and "best song" with "Walking in Memphis;" otherwise, people know him because so many people in the 90s used "True Companion" as their wedding song) and we want to give them to someone who would really appreciate them. The concert is the day after Valentine's Day, so it will make a nice "date night" for whomever wants them. And I'll even throw in a "free" copy of the new CD, which comprises his set list for this tour. As a junkie, I've been following the posts on the fan site to see what he's been playing at other venues. At one venue, Bonnie Raitt showed up and sang along with one of his new songs... hmmm... cool. One bit of bad news...there's lots of grumbling on the posts that he's not been playing "True Companion" at these shows. So, as a consolation, I'll put it on the CD for you!!! In any case, I guarantee an amazing evening of soulful singer/songwriter stuff.
And I figure, if you're reading this blog, then you're a close enough friend to justify the FREE giveaway!!
Check your calendar and respond immediately...I'll get the tickets right to you!
BTW, the seats are "medium"...not front and center, but not the cheap seats, either. It's a real small venue, so no matter where you sit, it will be intimate.
My thoughtful husband--with only the most sentimental and romantic intentions--gave me (er,us) two tickets for Marc Cohn (Feb.15th at Tarrytown) as a Christmas gift. We LOVE Marc Cohn (like the rest of the world, we played "True Companion" at our wedding) and have been to at least eight concerts in the last few years. This one is especially special (is that a word?) b.c. Marc FINALLY (after only about 4 years waiting) has a new album out...and it's brilliant. What a GREAT Christmas gift...and so thoughtful.
Here's the problem...I'm not as thoughtful, and I didn't know what to get Todd for Christmas. So, I checked his trial calendar at work and went ahead and booked a long weekend (Feb. 14 - 18th) in the Wine Country of California. There's the problem...we can't do both.
Since I'm unwilling to "give away" our trip, and Todd--when given a choice--picked the trip, then I'm very willing to GIVE AWAY the concert tickets. That's right, you don't have to go backwards and re-read ... it says GIVE AWAY. Quite frankly, the "cheapie" in me tried to sell them on line. I logged on the Marc Cohn fan site (where I've been a member for the last six years), and posted a notice that I'd be selling the tix on eBay. Then I posted a 7-day auction on eBay with narry a nibble.
Marc Cohn is a little bit obscure (many years ago he won the grammy as "best new artist," and "best song" with "Walking in Memphis;" otherwise, people know him because so many people in the 90s used "True Companion" as their wedding song) and we want to give them to someone who would really appreciate them. The concert is the day after Valentine's Day, so it will make a nice "date night" for whomever wants them. And I'll even throw in a "free" copy of the new CD, which comprises his set list for this tour. As a junkie, I've been following the posts on the fan site to see what he's been playing at other venues. At one venue, Bonnie Raitt showed up and sang along with one of his new songs... hmmm... cool. One bit of bad news...there's lots of grumbling on the posts that he's not been playing "True Companion" at these shows. So, as a consolation, I'll put it on the CD for you!!! In any case, I guarantee an amazing evening of soulful singer/songwriter stuff.
And I figure, if you're reading this blog, then you're a close enough friend to justify the FREE giveaway!!
Check your calendar and respond immediately...I'll get the tickets right to you!
BTW, the seats are "medium"...not front and center, but not the cheap seats, either. It's a real small venue, so no matter where you sit, it will be intimate.
1.28.2008
FOR SALE
1.27.2008
Why I Don't Complain
I thought I’d suck you in with that headline. It’s not completely true. But I didn’t know if anyone would read a post that says, Sometimes I Complain, and I Really Shouldn’t. Okay, I complain, but I really try not to. And here’s why…
Earlier today, I decided to get out of the house for a couple hours before the Orange come on the tube. I committed to take it easy for several days--this has been incredibly difficult--and I just couldn’t take the "relaxing" anymore. So I went to get a manicure.
I have a pretty good sized bruise on the back of my right hand. If you’ve been reading all along, you’ll recall that I had issues with the IV in the hospital. Jee, the adorable manicurist, noticed it right away and let out a little squeal. Not being sure how much she’d understand, I said…”hospital” and “I had surgery.” The woman next to me perked up from her fill-job and said, “Wow! They really did a number on you!” then said, “I hope you’re okay now.” I gave a brief overview of my last few days, trying to keep my phrases short and take breaths between sentences. This is how the therapist wants me to talk. Then the fill-job lady says…
now pay attention, because this is the reason that I try not to complain
“I had thyroid cancer and had surgery on my throat, too.” She continued by telling me how long it took her to recuperate and how difficult it is to move when you can’t use the muscles in your neck. She said her voice changed for several weeks (it’s back to normal now), and she showed me the pencil-sized zipper scar on her neck.
I can’t complain. And I’m going to continue to try not to.
Earlier today, I decided to get out of the house for a couple hours before the Orange come on the tube. I committed to take it easy for several days--this has been incredibly difficult--and I just couldn’t take the "relaxing" anymore. So I went to get a manicure.
I have a pretty good sized bruise on the back of my right hand. If you’ve been reading all along, you’ll recall that I had issues with the IV in the hospital. Jee, the adorable manicurist, noticed it right away and let out a little squeal. Not being sure how much she’d understand, I said…”hospital” and “I had surgery.” The woman next to me perked up from her fill-job and said, “Wow! They really did a number on you!” then said, “I hope you’re okay now.” I gave a brief overview of my last few days, trying to keep my phrases short and take breaths between sentences. This is how the therapist wants me to talk. Then the fill-job lady says…
now pay attention, because this is the reason that I try not to complain
“I had thyroid cancer and had surgery on my throat, too.” She continued by telling me how long it took her to recuperate and how difficult it is to move when you can’t use the muscles in your neck. She said her voice changed for several weeks (it’s back to normal now), and she showed me the pencil-sized zipper scar on her neck.
I can’t complain. And I’m going to continue to try not to.
I can SING!
Well, that's a matter of opinion...
Let's establish that there's a distinction between ability and skill. I have the former.
Saturday, I talked for the first time in five days. I have to take it REAL easy...no phone conversations, no noisy restaurants, no yelling at sports on TV. But at least I have my voice back. I think that Todd was starting to get used to the hand signals and whiteboard...and the silence, of course.
We went out for dinner on Saturday night. On the way home we were blaring some rockin' 80s station in the A4 that we had for a test drive for the day. I sang along with Duran, Duran. I couldn't help myself for two reasons: 1) it's 80s music and, 2)I can sing again.
Todd has a different opinion.
Let's establish that there's a distinction between ability and skill. I have the former.
Saturday, I talked for the first time in five days. I have to take it REAL easy...no phone conversations, no noisy restaurants, no yelling at sports on TV. But at least I have my voice back. I think that Todd was starting to get used to the hand signals and whiteboard...and the silence, of course.
We went out for dinner on Saturday night. On the way home we were blaring some rockin' 80s station in the A4 that we had for a test drive for the day. I sang along with Duran, Duran. I couldn't help myself for two reasons: 1) it's 80s music and, 2)I can sing again.
Todd has a different opinion.
1.23.2008
Surgery...and a Complete Lack of Communication
SURGERY
Good News: Everything went as expected. We had an easy trip into the city (less than an hour mid-day) and arrived at the hospital almost an hour early. They took me in right away. Why not make me get dressed in the flimsy gown and paper shower cap and sit around for 2 hours?
At least they put me in a holding area where I could watch other patients come and go from recovery. Dad stayed with me the whole time. We watched the weather on the East River, told stories of surgeries and hospital experiences past, and made a few phone calls—just to let everyone know that things were tracking perfectly.
I had a brief chat with Dr. Amin (while I still could). I had two major concerns: First, When can I eat? It’s now almost 3 o’clock and I’ve had to fast since midnight the night before. Since I’m not one to midnight snack, I really hadn’t eaten anything since 9 p.m. the night before (Todd, Dad and I went to Inn at Newtown for my birthday dinner, so I loaded up on protein, carbs and comfort food). Still, by 3.p.m. the next day, I was feeling a bit weak! He said I could eat real food right away (and within reason). Apparently my swallowing won't be affected at all. Good thing, I was envisioning a week of popsicles and chicken broth!
Second, I was scared about my Dick Vitale research (3 ½ weeks no talking at all). So I asked, When, realistically, can I speak? Dr. Amin explained there are two schools of thought on healing. Traditional doctors (I don’t think he called them old-school, but it’s what I heard) want you to get plenty of rest after any surgery. He used the example of knee surgeons who tell you to stay off it for the first three weeks. But nowadays, progressive doctors want you to get right back at it. Gently, of course, at first. So he said only 3 or 4 days. I’m sure Dick Vitale’s surgeon is among the best there is, but I prefer Dr. Amin’s approach to recovery! Hooray!
As we waited, at least nine different people asked for my name, my doctor’s name and the type of surgery I was having. Fortunately, they didn’t give me an accidental appendectomy. Also fortunate: they didn’t stick me with anything until I was completely prone on the operating table. Always a good thing. And I kept my “needle” track record consistent. Read on...
The official documented time of my entry into the O.R.: 3:24 p.m. The nurse swabbed my hand and asked for a fist to get a vein for the IV. I was trying not to think about it and paying as little attention as humanly possible. She was sticking me with all kinds of things. Somewhere between “Small pinch!” and “Bee sting!”, I opened my fist. Big mistake. I feel this warm squirt coming out of the top of my hand, then I see the nurse grabbing for anything to swab it. Mantra kicks in: “not blood, not blood, not blood”! I remember nothing after that.
Dr. Amin reported to Dad immediately after surgery. Everything went perfect! “Textbook,” he called it. The cyst was small and its removal was quite routine. He said I can expect a normal recovery period and wants to see me in his office next week. It’s that simple. About talking: Absolutely no whispering…it is much harder on the vocal cords than you might think. Try to speak aloud on Saturday (five days after surgery), but don’t push it. Resume normal speaking, within reason and with great care, on Sunday. Eat whatever doesn't cause reflux (which damages the throat). So much for that huge pot of chilli I made on Monday.
I remember waking up briefly in recovery, just as they were removing my breathing tube. There were probably 4 or 5 people around my bed and they told me I was all done. I heard someone say, “It’s 4:25 p.m.,” so it was exactly an hour in the operating room. I dozed off, and my hair itched like CRAZY!
... AND A COMPLETE LACK OF COMMUNICATION
I’m laying there in la-la land thinking two things: I’m cold. And my darned head itches! Again, like CRAZY! I can’t emphasize this enough!
When I finally woke up, there was a nurse (for shame, I either never got his name or it didn’t register) standing over me. He asked me how I felt. I said, “cold,” then he reminded me not to talk. “Well, what they hey? You asked! Sheesh!” So he wraps me up like a cocoon in these incredibly warm blankets. Yummy! After being scolded for uttering “cold” and now that I’m completely wrapped in these blankets, I didn’t know the eye-blinking symbol for “ITCH MY DARNED HEAD…I’M DYING, HERE!” So I suffered it out.
Now, more questions from Mr. Nurse: “Who is here with you?” “Is he in the waiting room?” “Do you want me to go get him?” “Are you thirsty.” Fortunately, all of these require a simple nod of the head or an easy-to-lip-read word. So he gives me a glorious sip of ice water and goes to get Dad.
While I’m waiting, I manage to half-way free myself from my Houdini-worthy straightjacket. My left hand has the pulse thingy on my finger and my right hand has the IV that feels like a bendy straw (that wide) with duct tape. Both with wires or tubes attached to something I can't see at the head of my bed. Ouch. n.b. None of these are the proper medical terms.
Dad arrives and I manage to signal with my “pulse-thingy” finger that I have a pad and pen in my bag. Being a man, he can’t find it; so I reach right in (with my IV hand) and pull both out. Now, stay tuned, if you ever have this surgery, ask them to put the IV in your non-writing hand. I try to grip the pen and the bendy straw digs even further into my vein (tho’ it feels like it’s stuck into my bone). My first written words: “ITCH MY HEAD.” I think dad thought I was joking. He gave me a quick scratch, but not nearly enough. Hmph. Does no one here feel my pain??? I gave up.
Then I scribble: “Let’s call Todd.” I’m positive that Dad has just spoken to him no less than 20 minutes ago. But I find comfort in knowing that he’s on the other end of the line and I’m laying there. So, I assume, he repeats the whole conversation again. This time with me laying there. OK. I’m starting to feel better now. Somehow, I think Todd would have scratched my head properly, had he been there. Oh well.
At 6:32 p.m. (not that I was counting), Mr. Nurse finally removed the I.V. Ouch! “You take a lot of aspirin?" he asked. Apparently, there was another fountain of blood--not quite like the one in the operating room--but another one requiring a supply of gauze. Fun. By 6:45, I was dressed and sitting up. They rolled over a wheelchair and I was out of there.
We’re using a whiteboard to communicate. Thanks to TomTom, Dad found his way out of NYC without needing too much help from the whiteboard. Plus, I think faster than I can write. The speed of this type of communication is frustrating me!!!
One more funny anecdote…
We stop at CVS to fill my prescription. I take in the white board, just in case. I hand over my script and insurance card to the clerk. He starts typing away in the computer, asks no questions, interacts not. Meanwhile, I’m making gestures to dad that we should pick up a couple other things while we’re there, so it’s obvious to the kid that I can’t talk. Then he gives me a “ten” hand signal and then mouths: “ten minutes!” I’m laughing inside: “Hey buddy, I’m the one that can’t talk…you can! Hello?” Is this what I’m going to have to face for the next five days??? Way too funny.
And on a serious note as I sign off...
There are several things I am grateful for:
1) I’m grateful for all the kind words, thoughts, prayers, e-mails and texts from so many of my friends, family and colleagues. I even know that total strangers were praying for me and I’m certain that their prayers were effective. I’m touched and grateful.
2) I’m grateful for my amazing father, who braved driving in a lake effect snow storm to get here when his flight was cancelled. Then he sat by my side in a completely uncomfortable chair for more than two hours – neither of us with a thing to do but wait. It was, indeed, quality time. And I’m grateful for it.
3) I’m grateful for those who sent flowers, and for remembering that tulips are my favorite!
4) I’m grateful for the hot bowl of chicken soup that Todd had waiting when we arrived home. By then, it was a full 24 hours since our birthday dinner at the Inn at Newtown…my last intake of any sort. Chicken soup never tasted so good.
5) I’m grateful for being reminded, once again, that I am fortunate, and blessed, and incredibly healthy. As dramatic as I tried to make all of this sound, it was nothing compared to the toddler who was in the recovery bed next to me, surrounded by his family and a team of doctors. He was in surgery for more than eight hours, having a cleft palette removed. He has a long road ahead. Times like this keep me humble. ..and grateful in a way that I am unable to communicate.
Good News: Everything went as expected. We had an easy trip into the city (less than an hour mid-day) and arrived at the hospital almost an hour early. They took me in right away. Why not make me get dressed in the flimsy gown and paper shower cap and sit around for 2 hours?
At least they put me in a holding area where I could watch other patients come and go from recovery. Dad stayed with me the whole time. We watched the weather on the East River, told stories of surgeries and hospital experiences past, and made a few phone calls—just to let everyone know that things were tracking perfectly.
I had a brief chat with Dr. Amin (while I still could). I had two major concerns: First, When can I eat? It’s now almost 3 o’clock and I’ve had to fast since midnight the night before. Since I’m not one to midnight snack, I really hadn’t eaten anything since 9 p.m. the night before (Todd, Dad and I went to Inn at Newtown for my birthday dinner, so I loaded up on protein, carbs and comfort food). Still, by 3.p.m. the next day, I was feeling a bit weak! He said I could eat real food right away (and within reason). Apparently my swallowing won't be affected at all. Good thing, I was envisioning a week of popsicles and chicken broth!
Second, I was scared about my Dick Vitale research (3 ½ weeks no talking at all). So I asked, When, realistically, can I speak? Dr. Amin explained there are two schools of thought on healing. Traditional doctors (I don’t think he called them old-school, but it’s what I heard) want you to get plenty of rest after any surgery. He used the example of knee surgeons who tell you to stay off it for the first three weeks. But nowadays, progressive doctors want you to get right back at it. Gently, of course, at first. So he said only 3 or 4 days. I’m sure Dick Vitale’s surgeon is among the best there is, but I prefer Dr. Amin’s approach to recovery! Hooray!
As we waited, at least nine different people asked for my name, my doctor’s name and the type of surgery I was having. Fortunately, they didn’t give me an accidental appendectomy. Also fortunate: they didn’t stick me with anything until I was completely prone on the operating table. Always a good thing. And I kept my “needle” track record consistent. Read on...
The official documented time of my entry into the O.R.: 3:24 p.m. The nurse swabbed my hand and asked for a fist to get a vein for the IV. I was trying not to think about it and paying as little attention as humanly possible. She was sticking me with all kinds of things. Somewhere between “Small pinch!” and “Bee sting!”, I opened my fist. Big mistake. I feel this warm squirt coming out of the top of my hand, then I see the nurse grabbing for anything to swab it. Mantra kicks in: “not blood, not blood, not blood”! I remember nothing after that.
Dr. Amin reported to Dad immediately after surgery. Everything went perfect! “Textbook,” he called it. The cyst was small and its removal was quite routine. He said I can expect a normal recovery period and wants to see me in his office next week. It’s that simple. About talking: Absolutely no whispering…it is much harder on the vocal cords than you might think. Try to speak aloud on Saturday (five days after surgery), but don’t push it. Resume normal speaking, within reason and with great care, on Sunday. Eat whatever doesn't cause reflux (which damages the throat). So much for that huge pot of chilli I made on Monday.
I remember waking up briefly in recovery, just as they were removing my breathing tube. There were probably 4 or 5 people around my bed and they told me I was all done. I heard someone say, “It’s 4:25 p.m.,” so it was exactly an hour in the operating room. I dozed off, and my hair itched like CRAZY!
... AND A COMPLETE LACK OF COMMUNICATION
I’m laying there in la-la land thinking two things: I’m cold. And my darned head itches! Again, like CRAZY! I can’t emphasize this enough!
When I finally woke up, there was a nurse (for shame, I either never got his name or it didn’t register) standing over me. He asked me how I felt. I said, “cold,” then he reminded me not to talk. “Well, what they hey? You asked! Sheesh!” So he wraps me up like a cocoon in these incredibly warm blankets. Yummy! After being scolded for uttering “cold” and now that I’m completely wrapped in these blankets, I didn’t know the eye-blinking symbol for “ITCH MY DARNED HEAD…I’M DYING, HERE!” So I suffered it out.
Now, more questions from Mr. Nurse: “Who is here with you?” “Is he in the waiting room?” “Do you want me to go get him?” “Are you thirsty.” Fortunately, all of these require a simple nod of the head or an easy-to-lip-read word. So he gives me a glorious sip of ice water and goes to get Dad.
While I’m waiting, I manage to half-way free myself from my Houdini-worthy straightjacket. My left hand has the pulse thingy on my finger and my right hand has the IV that feels like a bendy straw (that wide) with duct tape. Both with wires or tubes attached to something I can't see at the head of my bed. Ouch. n.b. None of these are the proper medical terms.
Dad arrives and I manage to signal with my “pulse-thingy” finger that I have a pad and pen in my bag. Being a man, he can’t find it; so I reach right in (with my IV hand) and pull both out. Now, stay tuned, if you ever have this surgery, ask them to put the IV in your non-writing hand. I try to grip the pen and the bendy straw digs even further into my vein (tho’ it feels like it’s stuck into my bone). My first written words: “ITCH MY HEAD.” I think dad thought I was joking. He gave me a quick scratch, but not nearly enough. Hmph. Does no one here feel my pain??? I gave up.
Then I scribble: “Let’s call Todd.” I’m positive that Dad has just spoken to him no less than 20 minutes ago. But I find comfort in knowing that he’s on the other end of the line and I’m laying there. So, I assume, he repeats the whole conversation again. This time with me laying there. OK. I’m starting to feel better now. Somehow, I think Todd would have scratched my head properly, had he been there. Oh well.
At 6:32 p.m. (not that I was counting), Mr. Nurse finally removed the I.V. Ouch! “You take a lot of aspirin?" he asked. Apparently, there was another fountain of blood--not quite like the one in the operating room--but another one requiring a supply of gauze. Fun. By 6:45, I was dressed and sitting up. They rolled over a wheelchair and I was out of there.
We’re using a whiteboard to communicate. Thanks to TomTom, Dad found his way out of NYC without needing too much help from the whiteboard. Plus, I think faster than I can write. The speed of this type of communication is frustrating me!!!
One more funny anecdote…
We stop at CVS to fill my prescription. I take in the white board, just in case. I hand over my script and insurance card to the clerk. He starts typing away in the computer, asks no questions, interacts not. Meanwhile, I’m making gestures to dad that we should pick up a couple other things while we’re there, so it’s obvious to the kid that I can’t talk. Then he gives me a “ten” hand signal and then mouths: “ten minutes!” I’m laughing inside: “Hey buddy, I’m the one that can’t talk…you can! Hello?” Is this what I’m going to have to face for the next five days??? Way too funny.
And on a serious note as I sign off...
There are several things I am grateful for:
1) I’m grateful for all the kind words, thoughts, prayers, e-mails and texts from so many of my friends, family and colleagues. I even know that total strangers were praying for me and I’m certain that their prayers were effective. I’m touched and grateful.
2) I’m grateful for my amazing father, who braved driving in a lake effect snow storm to get here when his flight was cancelled. Then he sat by my side in a completely uncomfortable chair for more than two hours – neither of us with a thing to do but wait. It was, indeed, quality time. And I’m grateful for it.
3) I’m grateful for those who sent flowers, and for remembering that tulips are my favorite!
4) I’m grateful for the hot bowl of chicken soup that Todd had waiting when we arrived home. By then, it was a full 24 hours since our birthday dinner at the Inn at Newtown…my last intake of any sort. Chicken soup never tasted so good.
5) I’m grateful for being reminded, once again, that I am fortunate, and blessed, and incredibly healthy. As dramatic as I tried to make all of this sound, it was nothing compared to the toddler who was in the recovery bed next to me, surrounded by his family and a team of doctors. He was in surgery for more than eight hours, having a cleft palette removed. He has a long road ahead. Times like this keep me humble. ..and grateful in a way that I am unable to communicate.
1.21.2008
Awesome, Baby! Just Like Dickie V!
Just finished watching ESPN: the Orange lost to G'town in OT. Bummer. And on my birthday, too!
Hey baby, Dick Vitale had the same surgery that I'm about to undergo. His was at Mass General. They call it an ulcer (I don't know if that's a different condition), but his was also on the left vocal cord. Read more: http://www.usatoday.com/sports/columnist/hiestand-tv/2008-01-15-hiestand-vitale_N.htm
Now for the big news. Dickie V went under the knife on Dec. 18th. On his webiste letter to fans, he says he didn't utter a single word for 3-1/2 weeks. Yup. First words spoken: January 13th.
Todd likes the idea of this.
Hey! Can someone get me a bigger whiteboard, baby???
Planes, Trains, Automobiles
Sunday night, 6p.m. I get an automated phone message from Northwest Airlines. Dad's flight from Erie to Detroit is cancelled due to lake effect snow in Erie. They've rescheduled him on flights that put him in LaGuardia at noon on TUESDAY!!! That doesn't work, since I have to be at the hospital at 2:00 on Tuesday. PANIC!!!
Quick phone call to Erie. They're completely buried in snow. Panic again(me, not them). We start running different scenarios...what about Amtrak...dad can drive to Detroit and pick up his connecting flight...why not try Jet Blue out of Buffalo...take the Tuesday flights and just meet up with me in the recovery room after surgery...all these options stink!
Then Dad does what only Dad would do..."I'll get up at 5:30 a.m. and drive!" he proclaims. Dad...it's lake effect snow. Several feet. Three consecutive days worth.
So I go online and look at driving conditions down I-86 (NY 17). No snow. Roads perfectly dry.
So he drove. 520 miles. From the lake effect snow.
"What you do for others comes back to you ten-fold." That's what he always tells me. If that's case, he's a very rich man!
Quick phone call to Erie. They're completely buried in snow. Panic again(me, not them). We start running different scenarios...what about Amtrak...dad can drive to Detroit and pick up his connecting flight...why not try Jet Blue out of Buffalo...take the Tuesday flights and just meet up with me in the recovery room after surgery...all these options stink!
Then Dad does what only Dad would do..."I'll get up at 5:30 a.m. and drive!" he proclaims. Dad...it's lake effect snow. Several feet. Three consecutive days worth.
So I go online and look at driving conditions down I-86 (NY 17). No snow. Roads perfectly dry.
So he drove. 520 miles. From the lake effect snow.
"What you do for others comes back to you ten-fold." That's what he always tells me. If that's case, he's a very rich man!
1.17.2008
Ugg Update
They sold for $53.00!
One of the bidders said she was excited about my "vintage" Uggs. Me too!
Let's see...what else is in the back of the closet?
One of the bidders said she was excited about my "vintage" Uggs. Me too!
Let's see...what else is in the back of the closet?
1.16.2008
Completely unrelated...but amusing
More than 15 years ago (I know this b.c. I have pictures), everyone in our family -- mom, dad, cousins, etc. -- bought these really ugly, but very warm and cozy winter boots at Kinney Shoe Store in the Millcreek Mall. My cousin was the store manager and she let us in on her employee discount.
They were called UGGs.
Yup, it's true. Long b4 Lindsay Lohan was wearing them in the summer with a mini, all of the Lopers wore them around Erie...mostly to navigate the four-feet-of-snow-but school's-not-cancelled winters and definitely NOT as a fashion statement.
I still have those UGGs on the floor in my front closet. It seems it never snows quite hard enough to justify their clumsiness. I prefer my shoe boots which I think are much more fashionable, albeit perhaps less practical.
Earlier this week, I tried the UGGs on. For whatever reason, my feet have grown in the last couple years and, sure enough, they were at least a full size too small. So I cleaned them up and put them for sale on eBay for 99 cents.
Darn it if the auction isn't up to almost 30 dollars and it still has a day to go!! I honestly think that's about what we paid for them. 15 years ago. At the Millcreek Mall. At Kinney Shoes.
They were called UGGs.
Yup, it's true. Long b4 Lindsay Lohan was wearing them in the summer with a mini, all of the Lopers wore them around Erie...mostly to navigate the four-feet-of-snow-but school's-not-cancelled winters and definitely NOT as a fashion statement.
I still have those UGGs on the floor in my front closet. It seems it never snows quite hard enough to justify their clumsiness. I prefer my shoe boots which I think are much more fashionable, albeit perhaps less practical.
Earlier this week, I tried the UGGs on. For whatever reason, my feet have grown in the last couple years and, sure enough, they were at least a full size too small. So I cleaned them up and put them for sale on eBay for 99 cents.
Darn it if the auction isn't up to almost 30 dollars and it still has a day to go!! I honestly think that's about what we paid for them. 15 years ago. At the Millcreek Mall. At Kinney Shoes.
1.14.2008
Jan. 8 at the NYU Voice Center
First, I had vocal therapy with Dr. Lazarus. It was my first "official" therapy session, since our first meeting was an evaluation. I had been practicing some sounds (like hums) since our December appointment, but it turns out I was doing the wrong sounds.
Our visit consisted of me learning to make the right humming sound, then practicing it over and over. Sounds pretty simple, but I can only seem to get it right about half the time. It's amazing how much I have to concentrate to make this one simple sound come out of my mouth. Now I know what I put my Presentation Skills students through when they're speaking in front of the group! "So much to think about!!!" I have to practice this one sound several times a day until my next visit. That's it.
After therapy, I went down the hall for Dr. Amin. One thing I have to say about this place...I've never waited for anything more than 3 or 4 minutes in their waiting room. And I was even about 40 minutes early for my appointment!! Regardless, he took me right away. (One other aside...I've had to call the office on three or four occasions with questions. Each time, I'd start to leave a detailed explanation with the receptionist and each time she either a) put me right through to speak directly with Dr. Amin, or b) had him call me right back. And he did! I find this mind-boggling in this day-and-age of impersonal health care.)
We went right into the laryngoscopy (see my earlier post) with the tube through my nose. This time, instead of improvement, we saw the opposite. The swelling had gone down significantly, but the cyst had at least doubled in size. The reduced swelling is likely explained because I haven't been teaching for several weeks. In fact, I haven't worked at all since the last week of November, except for one 5-hour class on Dec. 11th. So it has been almost a month of rest and my voice is sounding worse than ever. Now we can see why. The cyst is now almost constantly bumping against the right vocal chord, causing irritation and making it even more difficult than ever for me to produce sound. The right vocal chord is irritated and is in danger of being damaged due to the size of the cyst on the other side. Here's the video from the laryngoscopy:
Side Comment: OK. I'm sharing this in case anyone out there stumbles upon this blog and wants more information about problems like mine. It's how I got the help I got...by reading about others' experiences on the internet. That said, these pictures ain't so pretty.
What you'll see here, if you're brave enough to click the video, is a picture of my vocal cords from early January...the day that Dr. Amin told me the cyst had doubled in size. You can see it VERY clearly (I didn't try to add red arrows to show you). And you can hear in the audio exactly where the cyst would interrupt my ability to produce sound. It's pretty cool, if not too gross for you to take in. It's a great demonstration of my lack of range, and how the cyst was causing it. Also, in these pictures, you should be able to see some swelling on the right cord (on your left) that came about because of the size of the cyst. This condition is different from "nodules" another common voice problem that comes from overuse/abuse and is common in performers. Nodules are bilateral (on both sides) and symmetrical. They also impact the sound of the voice, but differently. Treatment options are different, too. That's the extent of my expertise, but this page offers a simplistic distinction between the conditions.
Just to remind you, this is done with a tiny scope that's on the end of a very narrow tube that's inserted through the nasal passages. The procedure is called an laryngoscopy. They spray a numbing agent into your nostrils before getting underway. It doesn't hurt if you don't think too much about it. And what you get to see afterward makes it worthwhile. If you like that kind of stuff...
Dr. Amin is acutely aware that I depend on my voice for my profession, as do a large percentage of the patients he sees due to his NYC location--singers, performers, etc. So he is sensitive to the fact that I need a solution. He told me that considering all of the changes since our last visit, and considering that I need my voice to earn a paycheck, he would lean more toward treating me with surgery than he did in our initial consult.
He spent about 20 minutes with me, answering questions and explaining my options. I continue to be impressed with his availability and personal interest in my case, despite the fact that he told me he sees numerous patients with the same problems on a day-to-day basis.
My choices are to continue with vocal therapy for several weeks, and then check to see how the cyst is behaving. Dr. Lazarus has already assured me that I have several vocal issues to work through and that she can help improve the quality of my voice through therapy. And I trust that she can. If I can learn to "talk around" the cyst (and it doesn't grow any more), we might not need to do surgery at all. The other choice is to operate now (an out-patient procedure) and pick up with the therapy later, after I have healed from surgery.
Other than stopping the annoyance in my throat, my biggest concern is my schedule and my business. If I wait until March or April and the problem persists, I will have to do some serious juggling to move the multiple jobs that I already have booked. I'll lose a lot of work and potentially damage relationships with clients who are depending on me. In the mean time, I'll have to keep working extra hard to produce sound and I'll have a constant sore throat. On the other hand, I can do the surgery now and take the next few weeks off, then hit the ground running in March.
I sat down with my calendar and pondered the options. The schedule was very light in January and February. I have a few meetings and only two scheduled days of teaching. To me is just made sense to squeeze it in now, since I knew that I wouldn't be "losing" any work...I just won't take any new work on for this period.
So surgery is scheduled for Jan. 22 (Hogan's birthday and the day after my birthday) at the NYU Medical Center in Manhattan. Coincidentally, Todd is in court that date, so I am flying my dad in from Erie. He'll take me to the hospital and then stay at home with me for a few days. He likes doing that kind of stuff. Plus, I did it for him when he went to UPMC for his prostate cancer surgery in 2000!
More to follow...
Our visit consisted of me learning to make the right humming sound, then practicing it over and over. Sounds pretty simple, but I can only seem to get it right about half the time. It's amazing how much I have to concentrate to make this one simple sound come out of my mouth. Now I know what I put my Presentation Skills students through when they're speaking in front of the group! "So much to think about!!!" I have to practice this one sound several times a day until my next visit. That's it.
After therapy, I went down the hall for Dr. Amin. One thing I have to say about this place...I've never waited for anything more than 3 or 4 minutes in their waiting room. And I was even about 40 minutes early for my appointment!! Regardless, he took me right away. (One other aside...I've had to call the office on three or four occasions with questions. Each time, I'd start to leave a detailed explanation with the receptionist and each time she either a) put me right through to speak directly with Dr. Amin, or b) had him call me right back. And he did! I find this mind-boggling in this day-and-age of impersonal health care.)
We went right into the laryngoscopy (see my earlier post) with the tube through my nose. This time, instead of improvement, we saw the opposite. The swelling had gone down significantly, but the cyst had at least doubled in size. The reduced swelling is likely explained because I haven't been teaching for several weeks. In fact, I haven't worked at all since the last week of November, except for one 5-hour class on Dec. 11th. So it has been almost a month of rest and my voice is sounding worse than ever. Now we can see why. The cyst is now almost constantly bumping against the right vocal chord, causing irritation and making it even more difficult than ever for me to produce sound. The right vocal chord is irritated and is in danger of being damaged due to the size of the cyst on the other side. Here's the video from the laryngoscopy:
Side Comment: OK. I'm sharing this in case anyone out there stumbles upon this blog and wants more information about problems like mine. It's how I got the help I got...by reading about others' experiences on the internet. That said, these pictures ain't so pretty.
What you'll see here, if you're brave enough to click the video, is a picture of my vocal cords from early January...the day that Dr. Amin told me the cyst had doubled in size. You can see it VERY clearly (I didn't try to add red arrows to show you). And you can hear in the audio exactly where the cyst would interrupt my ability to produce sound. It's pretty cool, if not too gross for you to take in. It's a great demonstration of my lack of range, and how the cyst was causing it. Also, in these pictures, you should be able to see some swelling on the right cord (on your left) that came about because of the size of the cyst. This condition is different from "nodules" another common voice problem that comes from overuse/abuse and is common in performers. Nodules are bilateral (on both sides) and symmetrical. They also impact the sound of the voice, but differently. Treatment options are different, too. That's the extent of my expertise, but this page offers a simplistic distinction between the conditions.
Just to remind you, this is done with a tiny scope that's on the end of a very narrow tube that's inserted through the nasal passages. The procedure is called an laryngoscopy. They spray a numbing agent into your nostrils before getting underway. It doesn't hurt if you don't think too much about it. And what you get to see afterward makes it worthwhile. If you like that kind of stuff...
Dr. Amin is acutely aware that I depend on my voice for my profession, as do a large percentage of the patients he sees due to his NYC location--singers, performers, etc. So he is sensitive to the fact that I need a solution. He told me that considering all of the changes since our last visit, and considering that I need my voice to earn a paycheck, he would lean more toward treating me with surgery than he did in our initial consult.
He spent about 20 minutes with me, answering questions and explaining my options. I continue to be impressed with his availability and personal interest in my case, despite the fact that he told me he sees numerous patients with the same problems on a day-to-day basis.
My choices are to continue with vocal therapy for several weeks, and then check to see how the cyst is behaving. Dr. Lazarus has already assured me that I have several vocal issues to work through and that she can help improve the quality of my voice through therapy. And I trust that she can. If I can learn to "talk around" the cyst (and it doesn't grow any more), we might not need to do surgery at all. The other choice is to operate now (an out-patient procedure) and pick up with the therapy later, after I have healed from surgery.
Other than stopping the annoyance in my throat, my biggest concern is my schedule and my business. If I wait until March or April and the problem persists, I will have to do some serious juggling to move the multiple jobs that I already have booked. I'll lose a lot of work and potentially damage relationships with clients who are depending on me. In the mean time, I'll have to keep working extra hard to produce sound and I'll have a constant sore throat. On the other hand, I can do the surgery now and take the next few weeks off, then hit the ground running in March.
I sat down with my calendar and pondered the options. The schedule was very light in January and February. I have a few meetings and only two scheduled days of teaching. To me is just made sense to squeeze it in now, since I knew that I wouldn't be "losing" any work...I just won't take any new work on for this period.
So surgery is scheduled for Jan. 22 (Hogan's birthday and the day after my birthday) at the NYU Medical Center in Manhattan. Coincidentally, Todd is in court that date, so I am flying my dad in from Erie. He'll take me to the hospital and then stay at home with me for a few days. He likes doing that kind of stuff. Plus, I did it for him when he went to UPMC for his prostate cancer surgery in 2000!
More to follow...
1.12.2008
Vocal Evaluation with Dr. Lazarus
Don't try to do this during the holiday season! Crazy schedules caused us to lose some time in this process, but I finally had a chance to meet with Dr. Lazarus for voice evaluation.
The day I went into the city was crazy! A train had jumped the tracks in Norwalk and the entire New Haven line was disrupted. I had to drive to South Norwalk station to catch a train and arrived at GCT just minutes before my scheduled appointment at NYU. Meanwhile, the forecast was for severe ice and sleet later in the day. In all, a real fun day in New York!
In any case, it was a pleasure to meet Dr. Lazarus. She had me do a number of vocal exercises and it turns out, I have a couple of speech problems. First, I speak way too fast and try to squeeze too much in before taking a breath. And second, I do not breathe deep enough.
We went through a battery of tests where the doctor asked me to speak into a microphone and the results came up on a screen in front of us.
She was very positive and assured me that my voice problems could definitely be cured through good speech therapy. I felt very positive when I left the appointment, knowing that there was always hope that I could learn to speak around my cyst.
I did not, however, feel positive about the sleet storm that was bearing down on the city.
The day I went into the city was crazy! A train had jumped the tracks in Norwalk and the entire New Haven line was disrupted. I had to drive to South Norwalk station to catch a train and arrived at GCT just minutes before my scheduled appointment at NYU. Meanwhile, the forecast was for severe ice and sleet later in the day. In all, a real fun day in New York!
In any case, it was a pleasure to meet Dr. Lazarus. She had me do a number of vocal exercises and it turns out, I have a couple of speech problems. First, I speak way too fast and try to squeeze too much in before taking a breath. And second, I do not breathe deep enough.
We went through a battery of tests where the doctor asked me to speak into a microphone and the results came up on a screen in front of us.
She was very positive and assured me that my voice problems could definitely be cured through good speech therapy. I felt very positive when I left the appointment, knowing that there was always hope that I could learn to speak around my cyst.
I did not, however, feel positive about the sleet storm that was bearing down on the city.
Dr. Amin: My Voice Evaluation
On November 20th, I went to the NYU Voice Center in Manhattan to be evaluated by Dr. Milan Amin, the director of the center. It was a very positive experience. Dr. Amin (he's Indian) was very thorough and took a lot of time to answer all of my questions. In addition to a thorough "work up," he performed a Flexible Fiberoptic Laryngoscopy. Flexible fiberoptic laryngoscopy is the most common type of examination used to visualize the areas of the throat and voice box. The exam utilizes a thin flexible endoscope containing fiberoptic cable that can be manipulated to examine areas not normally seen by traditional examination techniques. (I copied this from the website.) Put simply, he stuck a tube in my nose and was able to take a video of my throat. Then, he showed me the whole thing and "freeze framed" a few of the key pictures.
Bottom line, right away, he noticed a cyst on my left vocal chord and a lot of swelling in my throat. First and foremost, the cyst is NOT cancerous and does not otherwise pose a threat to my overall health. However, it does get in the way of my voice functioning properly and is definitely the cause of my hoarseness/raspiness and my diminished range. He said that it is very possible that it has been there for a long, long time (see my earlier post). But all of my recent overuse has put a lot of strain on my voice.
He perscribed two therapies: first, Prilosec to reduce swelling in my throat (though this confuses me, since I have no gastro-intestinal issues). The second was vocal therapy with Dr. Kathy Lazarus, also at the NYU Voice Center.
1.11.2008
My Vocal Odyssey: History
Those who know me well won't be surprised to know that I was a cheerleder in junior high. During those years, I was also a child actress, landing the pivitol role of Cathy Cratchitt (Tiny Tim's sister) in the Erie Playhouse 1978 production of A Christmas Carol. My singing/acting career was cut short by several bouts of laryngitis that seemed to co-incide with varsity football or basketball games. Though the memories are vague, my mom reminds me that we once went to an ENT (ear, nose throat doctor) who told me that I "probably" had nodules on my vocal chords from over use singing, acting, cheering ... and sometimes just "being myself." I was not treated, other than being told to "take it easy", drink tea with honey, and get plenty of rest when I needed to use my voice.
During high school, I found new ways to abuse my voice. I was, proudly, the first coxswain (ever) for the Mercyhurst Prep Crew team. The father of one of my classmates decided to bring the sport to our school. A number of us went out for the team, and the coxswain job was a perfect outlet for my louder-than-average voice. We were a start-up team, with improvised and unsophisiticated equipment. Our first boat trailer was a cattle truck...definitely unsophisticated. I used a megaphone, but we had no technology to assist from the stern. I'd lose my voice after almost every race. I did this all four years of high school...summers, too.
Since that time, I'd lose my voice quite frequently: when Syracuse beat Nebraska in football in 1984, and during the 1987 Final Four, most notably. Syracuse lost the championship game and I lost my voice for about a week! Fortunately, I was only the "back up" speaker at my SU graduation. It's a good thing that Tom Lewandowski showed up that day, because I'd have crackled and squeaked my way through it.
Over the years, I've been more and more conscious about how I use my voice. For example, I now choose quieter restaurants over noisy pubs, or opt out of "networking" events at GE's White House -- the place where program attendees go to unwind after spending hours and hours in the classroom. I've realized that the extra strain required in these environments was starting to take a toll on my voice.
FLASH FORWARD: 2007 was a very, very good year for both my businesses. I worked a record 85 days teaching and more than 25 days at various types of craft shows. Recognize that both these jobs require me to be talking at an elevated level for several hours straight. By October, I began struggling to get through a two-day program. I would rest for several days (if I could) before and after every teaching engagement. I started "sharing" work with my colleagues whenever I could, just to take care of myself. It didn't take much to recognize that the problem with my voice was no longer just an annoyance, it was impacting my livelihood and my businesses.
I started to research my options on line. It's amazing what I learned. The best site I found was www.voiceproblem.org . Go here to learn anything and everything about how your vocal chords function. I also found quite a bit of good self-diagnose information on www.voicedoctor.net (follow the link called "diagnose"). Much reading led me to conclude that my problem is, in fact, significant and that I should see a specialist.
Again, back to the internet to find a doctor who specializes in the voice. That let me to the NYU Voice Center: http://www.med.nyu.edu/voicecenter/. I needed to find someone who treats patients that depend on the voice for their livelihood, so what better place than New York with its singers and actors, etc. I had my first appointment in mid-December.
During high school, I found new ways to abuse my voice. I was, proudly, the first coxswain (ever) for the Mercyhurst Prep Crew team. The father of one of my classmates decided to bring the sport to our school. A number of us went out for the team, and the coxswain job was a perfect outlet for my louder-than-average voice. We were a start-up team, with improvised and unsophisiticated equipment. Our first boat trailer was a cattle truck...definitely unsophisticated. I used a megaphone, but we had no technology to assist from the stern. I'd lose my voice after almost every race. I did this all four years of high school...summers, too.
Since that time, I'd lose my voice quite frequently: when Syracuse beat Nebraska in football in 1984, and during the 1987 Final Four, most notably. Syracuse lost the championship game and I lost my voice for about a week! Fortunately, I was only the "back up" speaker at my SU graduation. It's a good thing that Tom Lewandowski showed up that day, because I'd have crackled and squeaked my way through it.
Over the years, I've been more and more conscious about how I use my voice. For example, I now choose quieter restaurants over noisy pubs, or opt out of "networking" events at GE's White House -- the place where program attendees go to unwind after spending hours and hours in the classroom. I've realized that the extra strain required in these environments was starting to take a toll on my voice.
FLASH FORWARD: 2007 was a very, very good year for both my businesses. I worked a record 85 days teaching and more than 25 days at various types of craft shows. Recognize that both these jobs require me to be talking at an elevated level for several hours straight. By October, I began struggling to get through a two-day program. I would rest for several days (if I could) before and after every teaching engagement. I started "sharing" work with my colleagues whenever I could, just to take care of myself. It didn't take much to recognize that the problem with my voice was no longer just an annoyance, it was impacting my livelihood and my businesses.
I started to research my options on line. It's amazing what I learned. The best site I found was www.voiceproblem.org . Go here to learn anything and everything about how your vocal chords function. I also found quite a bit of good self-diagnose information on www.voicedoctor.net (follow the link called "diagnose"). Much reading led me to conclude that my problem is, in fact, significant and that I should see a specialist.
Again, back to the internet to find a doctor who specializes in the voice. That let me to the NYU Voice Center: http://www.med.nyu.edu/voicecenter/. I needed to find someone who treats patients that depend on the voice for their livelihood, so what better place than New York with its singers and actors, etc. I had my first appointment in mid-December.
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