Memery

I have been tagged with memes!  Yikes!  I've never been tagged with memes before.

In my usual way, I have not responded to these things promptly.  The esteemed correspondents who tagged me (Ron, then Blue Lily) have probably forgotten they tagged me already.  Sorry, ladies.  I was out on a really long walk.  I will answer both here, now, in the order they were received.

Meme the first, from Ron :

Five Weird Things About Myself

Oh, how this made me laugh.  "Five?  You want me to limit this to five?" giggled one side of my brain.

The other side replied, "I don't get it.  There is nothing weird about me whatsoever."

"I do have an amputated limb," proposed the first side.

"Yeah, me and six percent of all Americans.  That's not weird.  It's not everybody, but it's also not nobody.  Not weird.  What else ya got?"

"Well the sides of my brain have conversations with each other as though they are separate entities, and I don't seem to feel at all hesitant about publishing these conversations."

"Oh, I don't know.  I think other people do this, too."

I will spare you the rest of the conversation.  I shall simply share with you the five weird things my brain finally hit upon after considerable discussion with itself:

1.  I can roll my eyes in opposite directions simultaneously. 

Yes, I do sometimes worry that my face will get stuck this way, but it's sooooooooo cool that I do it anyway, every once in awhile, just to impress children and other young people of my acquaintance.  Of course, they will be really impressed if my eyes ever do get stuck

I am also ambidexterous and mildly dyslexic, and I have often wondered if these three things are related.  Isn't that weird?  Don't you wonder, too?

2.  I do not like marijuana!  Not at all!

In my experience, marijuana makes people stupid.  (Personally, I find I can easily get stupid all on my own, without any help, so you can see how this drug would have little to offer me.)  Pot smokers of my acquaintance often seem to develop a cruel and stupid sense of humor which is, of course, especially obvious when they are stoned.  If they use pot often enough, I have observed that the cruel and stupid sense of humor, not to mention chronic memory loss and irritability over said memory loss, can even persist when they are not stoned. 

No, no, I don't care if you smoke it -- away from me.  And please don't try to converse with me while you're stoned either, 'k? (Been there, done that; so bored.  So very bored.)  And, of course, I don't think it should be illegal, certainly not while alcohol and cigarettes aren't.  And yes, I smoked it socially quite often as a young partying woman in the '80s, but I never ever liked it (except that one time in Santa Cruz; you know the one if you were there). The Woody Allen of pot-smokers*, I once -- accidentally, I swear! -- dropped a lighted joint into a hot tub full of other people eagerly awaiting their turn to toke on it.  Whoops. Such a klutz.  Really.

And guess what?  I have a crappy memory, and it makes me irritable.

3.  There is no North American beer I enjoy that wasn't made in Mexico.  Period.

All beer from north of the Mexican border tastes like diluted cat pee to me, or some kind of sewage or very bitter compost tea.  Yeah, the artisan ones, too.  Seriously.  Don't ask me if I've tried "X."  I have.  XX, IMO, is way, way better.  The stuff in the green bottle, not the amber.  Sometimes I like Bohemia even better than that.

4.  I don't understand rabid fandom for professional team sports.  At all. 

The way I see it, a local professional team is mostly comprised of people who aren't even from here (anywhere) getting paid more money than most people will ever see, just to play a game while wearing a shirt with some city's name on it.  Their loyalty goes with their paycheck.  Except in rare instances, they are not your kid or the kid next door.  They do not play on behalf of your neighborhood's high school or college, for their friends, your friends, and your friends' children, because they don't know them personally, love them, and want them to feel proud of them.  They do not love you or care about you except insofar as their paycheck derives from a city near you.

So.  Except when one or another of these individuals performs with particularly glorious grace, or when a team of people -- any people, anywhere -- comes together and functions beautifully as a unit, why does anyone care what they do?  Why does that care break down into rabid tribal affiliations?  What does it have to do with any of us, really?  And how is it that people get so fierce about their chosen affiliation?

I don't get it.  I know; I'm weird.  I've heard.

5.  I like vegetables better than desserts.

And I really, really like desserts.  There is no question.  Just look at me.  But if I found myself in the absurd situation -- heaven forbid! -- of having to choose, for my life, between giving up chocolate forever or giving up broccoli forever, I'd give up chocolate. 

Do you see how weird I am?  And that's just five weird things about me!  There are more.

No there aren't.

Yes there are.

Shut up.

You shut up.

Tag five more bloggerpeople.

Oooooooh, okay.

I have to tag Blue Lily to "get even" with her for tagging me with the next meme I'll answer here.  (And listen, missy, no fair mentioning the eelchair-whay or your anties-pay, y'hear?  Not weird at all!  No!) 

I think I'll also tag Sugared Harpy, AmpuTeeHee, and Pickleness because I don't think they have enough to do. (A HA HA HA HA -- kidding.  Take your time, ladies.  Or ignore it altogether.  Whatever.)

I'm also tagging Alphabitch because I really, really want to know what she thinks is weird.  (I'll be willing to bet you have as much trouble with this as Ron and I did.  Of course, you should feel free to ignore it if you want, too.)

Meme the second, from Blue Lily:

Why do you blog?

I'll tell you why I started blogging.  I started blogging because one winter, about a year after the transfemoral amputation of my right leg due to cancer, I checked in on a certain amputee community online and heard all these people whining.  "I can't [fill in the blank] because it's winter and I'm an amputeeeeeeeeeeeee."  It really freaked me out.

And then I started thinking about all the things they were complaining that they couldn't or wouldn't happily do -- like walk icy and snowy streets -- and how routine they were for me, and how the only reason they were routine for me, besides the great good fortune of having a rocking great physical therapist who came to my house for a few weeks while I was newly amputated, plus having secured in advance of all this a rocking great prosthetist who is also a transfemoral amputee and went through all this and more long before I came along, was because I'd worked really hard to make them routine, starting out when they were really difficult and I had no clue and, terrified out of my mind, needed help with every little bit, but starting at all because they were things I wanted, even needed to have in my life.  And I thought of all the stupid little tricks and details I'd learned, and all the weird little tidbits I'd shared with other amputees that they'd never heard before but which were either gleaned as part of my research preparatory to undergoing amputation -- itself a luxury -- or told me because I'd asked, specifically, or discovered by me along the way because of how my mind works, what kinds of friends I have, and who I live with.  And I thought I'd like to make a central place to put all that stuff, and maybe attract or link to other stuff like that which other people had gathered or learned for themselves and wanted to share here or elsewhere.

That's still the main reason I keep this blog.  Another huge reason is to let people know that there really is life -- real life, full life, life that often has nothing to do with amputation at all, really, or cancer, or car accidents, or war -- after amputation.  One of the things I kept reading before my surgery was how many people didn't know this, and I must confess:  I didn't really know it myself.  I kept telling doctors I'd rather die than have my leg off, and I meant it sincerely, but after doing research which led me to sites like I hope this one manages to be for someone else, sites which not only prove it's possible but spell out exactly how possible, I changed my mind and let a really good surgeon save my life -- at least, for a little while. 

People who don't get to choose, who have their limbs hacked off or blown off in some terrible incident for which they were given no opportunity to prepare, are faced with this deeply changed life all at once, and it can be a horrifying and profoundly saddening prospect.  I read one story in my pre-surgery research of a kid who woke up in a hospital in just this kind of situation, not only sad, but completely terrified that he would never ever be able to walk again -- until a peer counselor who was also a transfemoral amputee walked into his room and so proved the kid would walk again, too, before even saying a word.  People really don't know what's possible for them, often.  I'm here to help them see -- sometimes even as I discover it for myself -- just how much really is, even without necessarily the best, most expensive, high-tech equipment -- or the most cinematographic of goals -- but just desire and intelligence.

I'm also here to kvell about all my little victories.  And to rant and whine.  Duh.

Oh, and I also like to show off pictures of my sweet old cat. 

How long have you been blogging?

Since March 2005.

Self-portrait:

Well, they're all over this blog, of course, though mostly I've been showing my feet lately.  You can see others from many years ago here.  And then there's this, a photo of me harvesting my first Massachusetts crop, which became my first PhotoShop project, ever:

See that crazy gleam in my eye?  That's, like, so me.

Wow.  That was all such a long time ago.  All of it.

Why do readers read your blog?

I don't know.  Maybe they'll tell me.

I know that most readers come to my blog looking for answers to specific questions, e.g., how to wrap a transfemoral stump, what to do about sweat in a socket, or, yes, how to walk down a hill wearing a prosthetic leg.  A striking number of idle visitors are merely interested in TUK shoes (which I mention here, and which you'll be able to see me wearing in my next post; stay tuned), the three-legged pig joke, or to look at this picture. 

I'm not kidding!  More hits on this site seem to happen via searches for those items than anything else -- you know, besides porn.  And I do suspect that many of the people who like the gardening picture -- mostly Germans, apparently -- are pornsick** gits, but especially since I took trouble to make it as bland and unalluring an image as possible it nauseates me even to think about that.  Some people degrade everything they look at, you know?  And I am powerless to change that, so I prefer to imagine that it's a bunch of amputees in a military hospital overseas who look at this silly, friendly picture and see that it's possible to be normal and happy no matter what happened to land them there.  Probably not, I know, but leave me my fantasy, will ya?

And I assume my friends and correspondents who are not amputees read this for the same reason(s) I read their blogs, if they have blogs, because it diverts them in some way, or in some instances just because they like me and this is a way for them to check in with me from far away and take some part in my life a little bit.  And believe it or not, some people just like my writing, in spite of the often poor editing. 

(And I find all that rather nice, actually.)

What was the last search phrase someone used to get to your site?

"Three+Legged+Pig" at 10:30 p.m.

What did I tell you?

Which of your entries unjustly gets little attention?

All of them and none of them.  I figure people will find them when and if they need to. 

On the other hand, maybe this one.  People seriously need to be warned not to eat at this place.

Your current favorite blog:

See the sidebars.  Really.  (Yes, even the one on the righthand side of the page has a couple of blogs, but they're there and not on the left because they are more resources than literature -- though that's really such a tough call that I might change my mind at some point and move them left.) 

This is not a cop-out.  Most of the ones that are still going I check at least once a week, though some of them -- usually the beautiful, beautiful poetry sites -- are too challenging when I'm tired.  The ones that have been abandoned but are still up are still just like all the others, gorgeous, funny, pissy, loving -- totally worth reading.  All of them enrich(ed) my life.  All of them.

What blog did you read most recently?

I Blame the Patriarchy (radical feminism with a twist, and food pictures)

What feeds do you subscribe to?

None.  I prefer to experience blogs in situ.

What four blogs are you tagging with this meme and why?

I have to tag Toad in the Hole, because Ron tagged me with the one before this.  (Sorry, Ron; it's only fair.  If you already did this one, please forgive my having missed it.  And if you're too busy, don't worry; I won't be offended.)

As for three more, well, hmmmm....  I already tagged a bunch of busy people.  I guess I'll choose some different ones for this. 

I'll start with 3rd House Journal, even though I know she doesn't have time for this, because once upon a time when I was a lot newer at this and more uptight, I answered a question on her blog about why we blog saying personally I never did memes and that this was all quite the Serious Undertaking for me, etc., etc.  (I thought you'd enjoy the irony, Leslee, if you found a minute, but if you don't, no harm done.  I know you've answered at least one of these questions already.)

Ummmm, who else?  Who else?  Okay, Eggbeater because I really want to know her answers to some of these questions.  She doesn't know me from gruyère cheese, though, even though I drool all over her site quite often, so she probably won't pick this up.  Worth a shot though.

Finally, Fluid Pudding.  Angela doesn't really know me, either, but she says she has resolved to shut down her hilarious blog in two weeks for good and all.  Maybe if we each give her something to do (please don't hit me, Angela) she won't be able to. 

Again, no offense will be taken if this tag is ignored.  None.  Really.  It's supposed to be fun, right?

Fun.

_____
* Rent Annie Hall if you don't understand the reference. (back to top)

** As far as I know, the etymology of this adjective rests with Twisty.  If you think it might apply to you, (a) you are in the wrong place and need to leave now, and (b) please go read up and learn something at Twisty's site, though I wouldn't advise commenting there until you're over your sickness. (back to top).

Comments

[Ron Sullivan]

I can roll my eyes in opposite directions simultaneously. 

I am so impressed I could just plotz. No, seriously. I can cross and uncross my eyes so it looks like eyeball calisthenics, but ot makes me seasick. But wow.

Um, and Marty Feldman was one of my cinema idols. Maybe that was a side effect of the crush I still have on Gene Wilder.

It's going to take me a while to come up with a self-portrait, so be patient, but I will pick up that meme.

[Sara]

See? It is cool, isn't it?

When I was a little girl, I fully expected to marry Gene Wilder someday. (So fetching in the Willy Wonka purple coat, drinking out of a candy daffodil! Swoon!) But then Gilda came along before we could meet, and he didn't wait for me. I can't blame him.

Also, it may please you to know that while I worked at Whole Foods, whenever I had to show a customer where to find something, I always made a point of saying, "Walk this way." Only a select few caught the reference and snorted, guffawed or, very rarely, actually attempted to mimic my somewhat lurching gait. They, of course, are among my very favorite customers, ever.

[melissa b.]

I'm it!

Dear god, you ARE weird. Deliciously weird. I want to see those eyes some day.

And Number 4? Yes. What the hell?

I'm going to do this for you, darling. Only because you are fantastic and are quite adored over here.

[Sara]

Ah, Melissa, I can't wait to discover what you think is weird about yourself! I'm sure we will all be enchanted.

On the other hand, I also know that you are spread a bit thin right now, so please feel under no obligation to hurry.

Cheers!

[patry]

I'm with you on a couple of points: pot is absolutely no fun, and veggies are the best!

[Sara]

Yes! Veggies are the best! Remember, there would be no carrot cake if there were no carrots. (I'm sure that's meaningful if one doesn't think about it too hard.)

What I find most delightful about this particular meme, everywhere I see it, is the number of ways people's various assertions, affirmations, and denials about themselves and their vision of the rest of the world do and don't intersect. It really serves to deepen my confusion (and support my hypothesis) about what is odd in the first place.

To butcher the far more cogent thoughts of poor ol' Will yet again --

There is nothing either weird or normal but thinking makes it so.

[Ron Sullivan]

It's obviously going to take me forever to answer the second meme, but I'll tell you why I read here: personal liking aside, you post some of the damnedest (by which I mean good) technical writing I've ever seen. That last series on hillwalking is a keeper. It's a pleasure to read even when it doesn't (so far) apply directly to me.

Speaking of publishing: ! !

Ya know, my favorite grammy lost both her legs, I suppose to undiagnosed diabetes, and it depressed the bejeezus out of her. I've often wondered how different the last ten years of her life might have been if she'd had decent and enlightened medical care, and more mobility after she lost the first one. And whether she'd've lived longer, though almost no one on either side of my line lasts past 70, and most don't make it that far. Still, it would have been nice to have had her longer; she died when I was about eight. Part of it was the times (1950s) and part was that she was poor and lived in a Coal Region backwater. That means a lack of knowledge about what's possible, as well as a lack of money to pay for it.

I keep meaning to ask why you quit the Whole Foods job. (MYOB and/or email cheerfully accepted, of course.)

[Angela]

I will be doing this. I definitely will! (Argh! I only have three more days!!)

[Sara]

Ron, I am having a seriously crappy weekend. My sweet little old cat, probably my last cat ever, is more obviously terminally ill than usual, and the boyfriend is cranky for diverse reasons including this. Thus I cannot tell you how well-timed were your kind remarks. I read them yesterday morning just as I was finishing a fit of sobbing my face off over what an incredibly bad and worthless pet caretaker (and by extension human) I am, and because of this, reading them felt very much like someone patting me on the head and telling me, "There, there. You're not a complete F-up. You're not."

I started the Whole Foods post two weeks ago, but there've been complications with my complications, so I've had to set it aside temporarily. I will get back to it, and the many other exciting posts I have planned, as soon as my head clears a little.

And I'm sorry your granny suffered so. That's a whole other post, a specific look at the way things have changed over the last fifty years and why, and how to get the best out of what we have now. I'm officially adding it to the list.

Angela, I'm delighted that you dropped by, and I look forward to seeing what you write. Please don't stress out over this, though. You have a lot going on, what with all the Skittles and snot controversies, not to mention changing the entire format of your blog that you originally planned to punt altogether. I understand. And meanwhile, you can blame Ms. Melissa B. for the fact that I ever found you in the first place.

Cheers, ladies!

[leslee]

Oh my, I missed this too! And you're right, I hardly have time for a meme. I'll bookmark it in Bloglines for when I have time to kill, posts to write and not a thing to write about!

I prefer Pacifico myself, when I can get it. I do like Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, though.

I caught the Brazil reference! Love love love that movie. Sorry your complication had a little complication - hope things are better now.

[Sara]

Hey, Leslee --

Seriously, no pressure re the meme. Gad, I think it took me something like a month to answer this one.

Sadly, things are truly terrible at my house right now. While strenuously reassuring me that I have not failed and it is not my fault, the vet has also confirmed that my dear, sweet little kitty is now definitely, irreversibly, terminally ill and should die before too long -- should, as in if he doesn't on his own fairly quickly, we will need to call someone on the list she gave me of vets who make house calls to come and put him down to prevent his further suffering. She said not to wait.

A beer of any kind would be good right now, but I've been crying so much I think I'd just vomit it up.

Honestly, giving up part of a leg is nothing -- NOTHING -- compared to this. And this isn't even the first time I've been through it. And I am handling it with zero grace. And I don't care who knows.

[Ron Sullivan]

Ow.

Poor cat, and poor you. I myself cried like a damfool when I took Bernie to the vet the last time, and she wasn't even technically my cat. Fortunately we had a good friend who knew enough about losing critters to insist on driving us both there and sitting with Joe and me and some good whiskey that night. I still miss Bernie, and that was 15 - 20 years ago. She was such a sarcastic ol bitch; just my type.

And never mind the "grace" stuff, you get to handle the shit life throws at you any way you want -- or can. You can take the vet's word that it's none of your doing, right? For what that's worth.

Damn, though.

[Sara]

Thanks, Ron.

Yes, we can both accept what the vet told me about it not being my fault. We are not ready to put him down yet, though, not while the days are so heartbreakingly beautiful, filling the house with gentle breezes and birdsong, not while he can still sit in a square of sunlight on my studio carpet embracing it with his whole frail body and purring, not while he can still sit alert and entranced by mice rooting through dirty dishes on the stove in the middle of the night or daring to attempt forays into his own dishes only to have to break and retreat with the discovery that the enemy is not yet quite as weak as they thought, and certainly not while he can still ask me for things like a hug or a ride to a different part of the house. He's going to lose each of these attachments, though, maybe one by one, preferably all at once, but either way it's going to suck. It already sucks. But we just can't bring ourselves to deny him any of them just because it hurts us to see him so weak. We don't think he's in pain, just very, very tired. We still hope he will just slip away on his own.

Heck of a thing to have to hope for on behalf of your best friend.

I always hoped my cats would all die in their sleep five minutes before I did. No such luck, apparently.

[leslee]

I went through that with my little best friend, my dog who died a few years ago. She was sick a long time and would have good days and bad. I'd leave the house worried sick that I'd come home and she'd have died and when I'd get back she'd be wagging her tail and wanting to play. Then she'd be sick again and I'd be wondering when I might have to take her in to the vet the last time. God love her, she died at home peacefully with me there one morning. And by then I was happy to see her struggles end. But I don't regret caring for her over those last months and all it took out of me. She went when she was ready.

[Sara]

Thank you, Leslee. This is the kind of outcome we are hoping for as well. Meanwhile, our house is like a cat hospice.

And you know, it's okay. We don't really have anything better to do than this right now, and goodness knows he deserves it. The pain of losing him is a killer, but we are trying to make it as easy, natural, and loving for him as possible.

It's what we would want for ourselves, or for anyone else we loved.