Another Old Lang Syne

Happy birthday bud. :p X

:Ping:

Diagram of what fashion (in this case the corset) does to a woman's spine...

I was sitting in my boss's office on a conference call when the caller asked- "Can you 'ping' her?" My boss was puzzled but she explained "Does your company intranet have instant messaging?" She hoped we could IM someone in another office, interrupt her for a moment with a quick question.

I had never heard ping used that way. I had learned about pinging from a system admin at my last job. Back then it wasn't an instant message situation- As an offsite consultant the admin could, and I don't know the technical jargon for it- he could simply walk in the back door my little computer citadel and take over- see my screen and system as I did and move things around. I could tell Greg was in there because my cursor was moving without any help from me. It always creeped me out. I felt like a digital handpuppet, my pixels were not my own. But Greg could usually suss out the problem and fix it without leaning over me. I must admit to a sense of relief when he was gone but more than once I moved my mouse- wriggling it a bit to make sure that he was gone and I was once again the master of my monitor.

After a month of running with my new company's 30 day long promotional extravaganza I got the ping. Foolishness manifested itself because instead of running with scissor I was running with- or should I say IN stilettos. Truly a fan of shoes making the outfit complete I ran in nothing shorter than 4" heels for the last four weeks and...found myself sitting up in absolute agony unable to walk , with an excruciating pain in my hip.

I called a cab and headed to the chiropractor's office. I have to say, the chiropractor has more toys than a spoiled kid at Christmas. Nice guy but the touchy feely geek factor came heavily into play- Questions about everything from changes in eating habits, relationships, work, somehow had some bearing on my pain in the tush. I answered honestly- I was happier than I have been in my life- worries were at a minimum- was I busy-you bet- Stressed? I live for it. Drinking a lot of coffee- I didn't understand the question.

The good doctor smiled- we're both from Brooklyn he said (yes- I even told him where I was born- if this had some bearing I wasn't seeing it) Nothing stops us (OK I was with him on that) Then he pulled out a plastic spinal cord and hips. This is your spine (I knew my spine was out of wack but was pretty sure MY spine wasn't so far gone that it had made it across the room) He turned the model so the model spine had its back to me and placed his hand on the model's left hip and said this bone here- he gripped the bone tighter and twisted in towards the tailbone with a "CCCCCCRRRRKKKK" sound I felt in my own sacroiliac- and not in a good way. "Your pelvic bone is impinging on your sacral nerves- that's where the pain is coming from". Ah, and right there in the center of that fifteen cent word was the answer. I had been"pinged".

We talked about treatment. Chiropractors are big on listening to your pain- not masking ailments with shots or ripping into a body with a knife- which is why I was there. But here the diagnosis was worse. He asked me to be patient. To lie still on an ice pack and swallow anti-inflammatory drugs like Advil and REST. I believe in listening to your body- YOUR body that is- mine is full of stuff and nonsense. I had never encountered a pain that wouldn't cringe and slink away in the face of that determination- ever a fan of the fifteen hour day, the extremely unsensible shoes and long walks- I decided I would certainly ice and advil and even don the back belt ($29.99 at CVS and I wore it AT least an hour) I would do all of this- at my desk. My biggest concession was a pair of 2" heeled Rocket Dog boots I wore in place of pumps. Please be aware that the back pain made putting shoes and socks on a new adventure in pain. I was getting up 30 minutes early so I could get in sufficient yelling time while putting them on.

By mid-week I was feeling better. I'd been icing and advilling my heart out and the belt was right where I thought it would do the most good- in a desk drawer at work. I went running around Macy's looking for my friend Keiko (what was I thinking when I said let's meet there- there are more doors in Macy's than at the Home Depot) I felt so good I forwent a 2nd trip to the chiropractor and went straight home to clean house and catch up on laundry lugging. I iced my back that night and the next morning the ping had returned but it was muffled- like a kidnap victim locked in the trunk of a Chevy. So I kept going- a full day meeting in a board room and a nice long walk after and it seemed to me the victim was beginning to make its way out- the ping was getting louder- I muffled it with ice and more advil- and heard the chuckling of pain delayed but not denied. So I decided to try something different- a road trip to Philly.

VLH had kindly agreed to travel with me- I was supposed to rent a car but as I limped along 47th Street I called and said..."I forgot to order the car, can we take yours?" He agreed but sounded dubious- and he was RIGHT. He called me the next morning to arrange a meeting time- I was trying to put my boots on when he called- "Are you ...OK?" he asked. "Fine.."I whispered " JUST fine.. seeyousoon bye." He walked in and saw my face and said the smartest thing any man has ever said "You look pretty today". Bless him- he must have a Quasimoto fetish- I was hunched over and moving like a geisha with bound feet.

The trip to Philly was fun- days like that where business can be combined with good soul music on the XM, heated car seats and a Philly Cheesesteak from Geno's and a glimpse at a rare watch- one of only 25 in the world, its tourbillion flickering under the watch face. We deemed it a good day though I limped and gasped through most of it and got dropped straight off at the chiropractor's office with a mandate from VLH- who lifted me so kindly from the car seat- "Listen to him this time would you- get BETTER." I smiled and limped into the doctor's office.

The doctor said- "So how are you doing?" he said. "I admitted- "Not so good" "Listen," he said- we're both from Queens" he said "Brooklyn" I whispered. "Worse" he said. "I can do all this and only 4 out of 8 things I do is going to work- but NONE of it is going to work if you don't REST". "I like you, you're a nice lady" he said, "and it's great that you want to come here, but maybe you could get better and just bring cookies instead." He smiled.

Sit still. So I did- all day yesterday I made a deal. Lie still. 15 minutes up and 2 hours down was my bargain. I read two paperbacks and watched two movies, made toast and ordered Chinese food and for the next 14 hours I listened- and the ping was clear. The more I listened the more I heard- the gentleness you give is what is needed here- the compassion and understanding too. Being honest, asking for help and being grateful for little things like ice and Z bring me milk for coffee. :Ping: something else is in control. :Ping: let someone else help you :Ping: there is no control here- shiddown and shaddup.

This morning I am sitting here typing with an ice pack at my spine. I need a haircut and I REALLY want to head into Brooklyn for my pre-Halloween fix. I will get the hair dealt with and if I hear a :Ping: I will head home. Because this Halloween, I intend to wear a new costume- I'm going to dress up and act like a grown up.

:P X

It's a small world after all....

Yesterday I went to the NY Food and Wine Festival at the Piers- a gift from my friends at Share Our Strength whose stated goal is No Kid Hungry- but their methodology is incredible- they stage HUGE culinary events (Taste of the Nation, Tasteful Pursuits, etc) and encourage EXTREME gluttony whereby you not only want to donate money to help starving children in the US- (no joke- visit their website) but you want to give them YOUR food as after one of these gustatorial bacchanals- you never want to eat again- the starving kids can have your butternut squash soup with truffle oil and pig-head pate, thank you very much.

So there was lots and lots of food and three times more wine, beer and spirits. So much wine, beer and spirits that upon entry you are given a full-sized cabernet glass on a lanyard to wear around your neck- the absolute textbook physical representation of a cork-dork. I felt ridiculous-the glass bouncing in front of me as I walked until my companion- slightly sensitive and hungover complained that lacking sufficient cleavage her glass was bouncing on a too-many drinks the night before tummy and this was NOT a good feeling. We slung the glass backwards so it hung between her shoulder blades... I deemed it ghetto-style though it may be that the big wineglass would be replaced by..Thunderbird- on a lanyard...I love that idea- think how much wine is wasted when the owner becomes to intoxicated to hang on to the bottle. In New Orleans they have beer can cozies on lanyards- written on the cozy is the question- how ya gonna clap? My feeling is hands-free drinking is also good for holding back hair when...well you get the idea.

Anyway- a great deal of fun was had by all- and a ridiculous amount of food- I felt the teensiest bit virtuous by dint of the fact that 50% of my post event tummy ache had resulted in a donation to Share Our Strength- still- I wished there had been some little kid I could have given my little bratwurst with home-made pickle on a tiny potato bun to.

The answer is (after a night spent with Prince Pepto) not NO food- Yom Kippur proved to me that the answer is (after a night spent with Prince Pepto) not NO food- Yom Kippur proved to me that while fasting is OK for ME, those around me suffer- (by being witness to me being horrendously grouchy and caffeine deprived) So eating becomes a humanitarian gesture you see? The answer is not slow food- I dont do slow- but SMALL food.

Then this morning I got an e-mail from Neff. I had cleared my system with copious amounts of coffee and a yogurt from the event- the swag was for the most part, food- go figure. And saw an e-mail about the dessert bar Chikalicious. I groaned- CAKE? Marie Antoinettes last revenge on the peasants- I know inside she was thinking- Let the bastards get sick on buttercream- see if I care.

But the cupcakes were lovely. Visually, that is- gastronomically I am on hiatus for the day- But the author of the post- Ed Levine- made some wonderful observations about cupcakes that I will share with you here:


The cake has to be moist, light, and tasty in its own right, a difficult combination to pull off

The frosting has to be smooth, also light, not too sweet, and deeply flavored

A cupcake doesn't have to be huge. Cupcakes have become like bagels in this town, and like bagels, bigger is most assuredly not better. Size matters in cupcakes, but not in the way that you think

Listen up. This last quality is really important. A great cupcake has to have the proper ratio of icing to cake. Other people may have different ideas, but I think there should be a 1 to 3 ratio of icing to filling.

So true, Ed, so very true. So I will take my gluttony as it is actually the most readily enjoyed- in small, cupcake-sized doses.

(My quote and apostrohe key is busted...) Enjoy the day XO :P