Thunder of Wade

I signed up for the dollar shave club recently and got my first set of blades. They work pretty well – though the head is a little wide – and the price was good. I did notice two things:

1. I feel compelled to shave my face more frequently since I’ve got four blade heads in reserve and more on the way.

2. I’m never going to be able to keep up. Even shaving every other day is crazy frequent for me and the first blade head I’ve used looks brand new.

I guess I’ll just build up a stock pile and then cancel – and be set for years.

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The arm brace – aka “the rack” – has been helping with my mobility and I’m making good progress. The experience of actually using the device is still… well… miserable.

So, I took a bunch of pictures of the brace, annotated them, and put together some design suggestions.

Which is super-presumptuous. I’m not an engineer or a designer – I’m a computer guy. But I’ve got some experience in “user experience” and a flair for problem solving.

I converted the file to a PDF and emailed it to the company. That was yesterday and I haven’t heard back yet. And it’s likely that I won’t – after all, what do I know? But, I tried and that’s the important bit. Nothing that can be done about the rack I’ve got, but a new model might be able to incorporate some suggestions and someone else might not be so miserable.

I also took a copy of the notes to my physical therapist and she thought it was excellent – for whatever that’s worth. 🙂

I included my contact info in the email. At best, maybe they’ll have more questions. Or they’ll just ignore me. Eh. Again, I tried.
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I’m been kicking ass – so to speak – in the pool. I never “officially” race my co-worker since that’s not what it’s about. Unofficially, though, we race every damn time we get in the pool. Every. Time.

On Monday, I was hauling ass in the pool and doing great – right up until the halfway point on my last lap. I got a huge stabbing pain – it literally felt like I had been stabbed in my elbow. I slammed to a halt a couple yards from the end of the lane and treaded water for a moment while I clutched my elbow. I kicked my way to the end and contemplated the return trip to shallow end. Certain I didn’t have the power to haul myself out of the pool yet, I rolled to my side and kicked off.

I reached across my torso to clutch my rigth side with my left hand with my right arm I dragged myself through the water with a one-armed side stroke. I made it back and from the shallow end I was able to get out of the pool. Not using my arm helped as did the hot shower and by the time I was back at the office it was fine.  Ish.

On Wednesday, it hit me again in the pool. Not as bad and I recovered with a minute or two of rest. My PT said it’s not something to worry about as long as it doesn’t last.

But, still, a little scary.

I’ll be glad when I’m back to “normal” – or as close as I can expect to get.

I’ll also be glad when the rain stops around here and my basement stops flooding. But…. Ohio.

’nuff said.

On Saturday morning, I got up super early and drove to a campground to spend some time with my family. The GPS did a good job, right up until it decided I need to turn “RIGHT NOW” down a road that did not exist. It was fine with the next road, but started to freak out again and I turned it off and just followed the signs.

I got to the campground before anyone was awake and waited until folks started moving around a bit. We had breakfast, played with a giant bubble maker, and road bikes for a bit. I had a few small gifts for my Dad for an early father’s day – then off to the playground and ice cream on the way back.

We were sitting around and chatting for a bit, then the thunder started to sound. We got all the gear under cover as the rain started and then, curiously, it did not stop. So, dinner was under the canopy and so was dessert and also the clean up and the rain just kept coming down. We emptied the canopy a few times as pockets filled up with water.

My sister and brother-in-law cleared some space in their camper so we could get out of the rain and play games.

While were playing, there was a sudden crash from outside. Looking out the windows we saw an animal had pulled down the water-logged trash bag. Here’s what happened:

I rushed outside and confronted the beast. It was enormous, nearly as wide as the camper and filled with rage at being disturbed. I brandished my weapon – glowing with an eldrich light – and charged forward, shouting a war cry as I flung myself into battle.

The creature responded with a roar, fire and acid pouring from its fang-lined mouth in turn. I shouted again and it retreated a step, wary of my aggressive posture. Another step back and then it surged forward again – intent on my destruction.

But I would not be cowed. My family, nay, civilization depended on me and my next actions would shape the course of destiny. I raised my weapon and drove it back into the darkness, hissing and sputtering in impotent rage.

I stared into the darkness, into the abyss of its absence, and the abyss stared back into me.

From the perspective of my family, it looked to them like a raccoon got into the trash and I chased it off a couple of times while holding a glow stick.

But it was a big raccoon. Seriously.

With the rain stopped and the crisis averted, I brushed my teeth and went to bed in a tent.

I was up early the next morning – having not slept well and needing to use the bathroom – and waited until the rest of the crew was up. We hung out a bit, packed up the gear, and headed out.

Again, my GPS played games with me and sent me on a short, but extra wild, goose chase before settling down and directing me home.

A good trip, despite the rain and the wildlife. I think my Dad enjoyed the early father’s day celebration and I know my nieces had fun too.

Next time, I’ll try to document the raccoon if it comes back.

Seriously, it was huge.

I have developed allergies.

I don’t really know when it happened, but this spring/summer has been inconsistently terrible. I’ve been sneezing a lot and I think I’m about 23% mucus at the moment – trending upward.

And last night I was so miserable I took an allergy pill before I went to bed. Which I think would somewhat explain the dream I had.

Earth was being invaded by a hostile alien force. They had been hiding underwater and built a huge ship to transport human captives back to their homeworld. I figured out what they were doing and forced their timetable forward. While masters of the electromagnetic spectrum, their reliance on that technology was their undoing. I organized the disruption of their communications, led the attack on their main vessel, captured one of the scouts in my cell phone (it was really ticked off), and – when the transport ship rose above the water – I forced my way on board and got 20,000 people evacuated in 6 hours.

It was exhausting and I woke up more tired than when I went to bed. And the allergy pill? Well, as Marilyn Manson would say in his song, “I don’t like the drugs, but the drugs like me,”

That allergy pill wanted to pull me back into bed and cuddle. I fought my way out of its embrace and dragged my sorry ass into work.

I’m still a little hazy, but I’m hoping the diet coke and pop tarts – and a swim a little later – will wake me up enough to get me through the rest of the day.

Last weekend, I was running some errands and decided to grab a bite to eat. I considered Wendy’s since I like their food and it was on the way – but this Wendy’s has a terribly difficult exit – enough to make me skip it and find something else if the traffic was bad.

So, instead of pulling in, I drove on past and got stopped by traffic – inadvertently (and only partially) blocking the exit. This is the reason I don’t like to eat there – too easy to get stuck trying to leave. There was no one waiting to exit and I figured that the traffic would clear shortly.

Before it did, however, a jeep pulled through the drive through and tried to exit. I pulled up as far as I could, but even though it was enough for the driver to get past – it still wasn’t enough.

As he pulled out into traffic behind me – crossing three lanes as he did so – he sounded his horn and flipped me off.

I just shook my head. I didn’t deserve that, but if it made him feel better – so be it.

A few days later, I was headed into work and saw an ambulance coming up behind me. I dutifully pulled over – and so did everyone else on the road – to give way. It was important and we were patient. With the guy in the jeep it clearly wasn’t important (even if he was having a burger emergency he already had that by the time I encountered him), and he was completely impatient.

I don’t know what’s to be learned by those experiences – except that I try not to get stuck in that lane anymore.

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I’ve got a couple of “idle games” on my phone. This genre is about clicking or tapping a bit to earn the equivalent of money in the games – then using that to “buy” some kind of process to click/tap on your behalf. There are then multipliers and ever increasing “costs” to gain more automation and more multiplies. In short order, the game is playing itself with only minimal intervention from me. I like to imagine the furious amounts of math the device is churning through to reward me with a few hundred trillion of whatever.

I wonder if computers enjoy doing math? If there is some satisfaction from really getting a good compression out of a PDF or a delicious bit of encryption? If high speed internet tastes better than dial-up?

I hope so. I’d hate to be on the “wrong side” when the Robot Uprising begins…

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I had a physical therapy appointment today and found that I have learned something. If a physical therapist says, “Let’s try something,” it’s going to hurt in some new and interesting way.

Today was the use of hard plastic wedges to scrape at my bicep. The process helps restore proper blood flow to an area and will loosen up the muscle. You can tell it’s working when the skin turns a blotchy red and tiny capillaries begin to break under the skin. Bruising is not unusual.

It feels just about how you would expect it to – not a pleasant experience. I think the PT was showing off a bit for the intern that was on hand, but I guess it helped. I’ll use the “rack” later on and see how it goes.

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I noticed some water in my bathroom on the floor the other day. I had been leaving the window open and I figured I got some rain in there. I also noticed some water on the counter in my kitchen and thought initially it was the cold pack I’d left out. But then I mentally mapped out my house and realize the bathroom and the kitchen were lined up vertically. I got a definitive answer when I flushed the toilet and saw a little water pool under the bowl – then went downstairs to see the water dripping from the ceiling. After physical therapy this morning, I went to Home Depot and got a new wax ring. I’ve had this problem before and figured I needed to upgrade. This one proclaimed itself – “Better than Wax”.

From start to finish – including clean-up – was just under an hour to replace the existing ring. Not to shabby for a non-plumber. I didn’t have any leaks so we’ll see how it goes over time.

My most recent trip to physical therapy was somewhat less than stellar. I saw a new PT – this is the 5th person I’ve seen – and while he was quite pleasant, he wasn’t that effective. He did tell me to stop using the brace in the flexion mode since it appeared I have a physical limit there. Instead, I should spend time in extension mode since they think I can get a little more out of it.

So, I’ve been going for 40-45 minutes in a session with the brace and discovered something. With that extra bit of time and cranking, I can take the “rack” to the limit. My arm, then, is as straight as it will go. It hurt quite a bit and it doesn’t last, but it’s something. I’ve been trying to do more with heat first and cold after and I guess/hope that it’s helping. Sure don’t want 3 more months of this.

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I’m on my feet all day at work (by choice, I have a standing desk) and I walk around a lot when I’m not at work. As a consequence, I’m rough on my shoes and I had to get a new pair for work.

Now, I’m not a fan of shoes in general – I would much rather be barefoot or wear flip flops – and I freaking hate shopping for shoes.

Mostly because I don’t understand the subtle nuance of shoes that can make two virtually identical pairs cost vastly different amounts. I saw a pair that would have worked at Walmart – though they didn’t have my size, of course – for $30. At another store, nearly identical shoes were $80. Right next to the $70 flip flops. If I spent $10 on flip-flips, I expect them to be pre-bedazzled.

I ended up going to three different stores before I found a reasonable style, at reasonable price, in my size.  I am very thoroughly a size ten in shoes.

Why was that so difficult? Is it because I don’t buy into the shoe mystique? What I really need is a no-hype shoe store. I don’t really care abut the presumed features or the pedigree of the designer, I just don’t want to get in trouble at work for not wearing shoes.

I’m sure we have a rule about that.

So, tomorrow, I’m wearing my new shoes for the first day since I got them and I’ll be breaking them in.

And maybe planning a new career change in shoe sales.

“Anthony’s No Hype shoes”, maybe?
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Since I’m a compulsive folder, I always have little squares of paper in my pocket. It’s pretty much – keys, wallet, phone, paper and pen… when I head out the door.

When something happens or occurs to me while I’m out and about, I’ll jot down a note so I can write about it later. It’s usually just a word or two to help me remember what was going on or what I was thinking about. I’ll carry around the paper for a few days until I’m ready to blog, then I’ll use that as a reference. For example, the paper for today has:

Limit (as in, I took the brace to the limit)
Shoes (of my shoe shopping trip)
Finger (about getting flipped off while driving)
idle (about idle games on my phone)

I’ve covered two today and I’ll write about finger and idle some other day.

Also on that paper, though, is the word:

Suitable.

I have no idea what that’s about. Was it a pun? Was it ironic? It must have been significant at the time, but I don’t know what it’s about. I think I just created a mystery for myself and I suppose I could retrace my steps and figure out what it meant, but I suspect it’s not really that important.

Not that this blog is going to usher in a new age of civilization or anything, but I’m guessing this was even less important.

In any case, I’ve only got a few days to work it out before I start a new piece of paper – which will be right around the time I write about those other two items.

A few days ago, I decided to dismantle an old and broken DVD/VHS player.  I thought I might be able to salvage the circuit board in there for another project and set to work with a screwdriver.

I had a doctor’s appointment this morning for my elbow and while he was pleased with my progress, he thinks I need to give the rack and physical therapy more time.

3 months more time.

If I don’t improve by 30 degrees of motion (which is what I’m lacking now), then he would consider surgery. If I can get 15-20, but stop there, then surgery may not help much.

I was disappointed, but resigned to another 3 months on that accursed torture device and the once-a-week physical therapy.

After the appointment, I had a session with a different physical therapist than I’d had in the past. She was surprised at how much extra motion I got after she used a heating pad on my arm.

“Let’s try something,” she said, and proceeded to go after my arm like a squid trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Poked, prodded, twisted – and that was just the warm-up.

The therapist was apologetic at the pain she was causing – while also delighted at the progress.  She claimed to love elbows and loved a good challenge.

When she was done, I had nearly a full range of very painful – but encouraging – motion. It didn’t last, but it was promising.

She let me rest for a few minutes (and quietly dry my tears) before it was time for paperwork and departure. She promised to get the notes on what she worked on to my regular therapist and suggested I put ice on my arm right away as what she had done had caused some inflammation.

I stopped at home to get a cold pack and then on into work.

So, 3 months of the rack – but maybe less if the new physical therapy techniques can help. I’m willing to endure quite a lot of pain in the short term if we can avoid 3 months of the rack and possible surgery.

The “Monday lunchtime trip to the pool” conversation between my co-worker and I is usually about what we did over the weekend. Sounds a little grade-school when you say it like that, but it’s usually interesting. This time, my co-worker said that he had gone to a folk music concert and was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. Not enough to go out and buy folk albums, but enjoyable live.

It got me thinking about watching baseball. On TV, well, I’d almost rather watch golf – or watch paint dry – but in person, a baseball game can be a lot of fun.

What is it about the recorded version of these things – folk music and baseball – that detracted so much from the live version?

My theory is that the live versions allow us to be our own editors, instead of relying on someone else to filter the event and distill what they think is important.

When there’s a pause in a baseball game on TV, it gets filled with a commercial. When there’s a pause in an in-person game, there are people to watch and mascots to mock. There’s the 7th inning physical stretch and “beer heeeeeeeeere”. In the pause, there are things other than baseball – but maybe not any less engaging.

A live folk show has atmosphere and the sense of a unique moment. A recording – even a “live” recording – misses something special about the people around us and how we perceive  them.  There’s something in being present that adds to the experience.

From this, it would seem that a recording would always pale before a live event – but if the fault is in the editing then the right editor could improve on reality.

I went to a photography show this past weekend and the exhibit had photos of places I had almost surely driven past, but disregarded.

The photographer had captured something else – and sense of cheer in some cases, but mostly bleakness. Something I would have missed with my own filters applied as I drove past these places in the “live” view.  Being present in the real world didn’t automatically make me a better editor.

Every moment of our waking lives our brains are furiously editing out massive amounts of information from our senses – things that our internal editor decides we don’t need to remember or even consciously think about.

So, maybe the key to getting more out of our lives and our experiences is to try and be better editors and be more aware of our filters.

It seemed a little deeper and more profound earlier today, but there’s still maybe something useful here.