Smut With Your Candy?

I stopped at my local Chevron station (8301 North Eldridge Parkway Houston, TX 7041) yesterday to grab an Orange Crush and stood in line behind a nice lady getting milk and this little girl getting candy. It took long enough that I naturally started reading the magazine covers at the stand. To my surprise the ones at eye level for the kiddos were all tits, ass and drugs.  I patiently waited my turn.  When I got to the checkout I asked the man pictured below if he was the owner, he said he was the manager.  I told him the magazines that were at eye level for little kids up front were not appropriate, and in fact most of them should be in a brown bag.  He shrugged his shoulders and said that was how "they" set it up. I told him he should move them, it wasn't right.  He told me again that was just how it was set up.  I squinched my eyes up tight and pointed at him and said "It's not right" before leaving.  Thankfully I didn't have my kids with me.  I'm dropping Chevron a note to see what they say.  I'll let ya'll know if I get a response.

Little girl buying candy from the open smut peddler who claims he can do nothing about it.
Go ahead and click to enlarge the image.

Late Onset Group B Streptococcus Infection

I am a person that has to put distance between a terrible event before I can comfortably talk about it.  When Jack got sick, he wouldn't eat all afternoon.  This from a baby who never missed a time to nurse.  He was crying and crying a terrible little cry that was weak and moany.  It was Friday afternoon and the doctor's office was going to try to fit us in at 3:05.  I called twice to see if they had anything sooner, his little sounds were so torturous and two hours was too long to wait.  His fever worsened and by the time we got to the doctor I was scared.  I was glad I called the doctor instead of trying to wait out the fever. At 103° the pediatrician insisted we go straight to the emergency room.  She said the odd cry was because he was struggling to breath.  I rushed Ella into the car and drove as fast as I could three blocks and found a parking place.  Inside the triage nurse just asked us our names and ran us into the back where doctors swarmed and poked and scratched their heads.  Jack's neck started to swell up as he was going septic.  He was six weeks old.

This video is what it sounds like when a sick infant is having a hard time breathing. This was just before we left for the doctors office.  



I tested negative for Group B Strep (GBS) at the end of my pregnancy so antibiotics were never given.  In fact I've had occasion to be tested again and I'm still negative.  It's a bacterium a good amount of people carry on their skin, it's something you can get from a grocery cart, a handshake, a library book, a baby present.  Most people never know they carry it, because it's a wimpy bacteria killed by penicillin.  For babies it can be deadly.  That is what Jack had.  Babies usually get it when they are born, it's very unusual for a six week old to get it, but it happens.  Late onset Group B Strep can lead to meningitis, brain damage, hearing loss, life long handicaps or even death.  Jack escaped all of those things.  He's scrappy like that.  I stayed in the NICU with him for 13 days while he received intravenous sterile antibiotics. He responded well to them in the first few days and so doctors were optimistic.  I lived in dread of his IV falling out again.  His veins were so small and hard to find to get it back in was a delicate catastrophe of blowing out vein after vein, searching under the skin with a needle and holding him down.

Leading up to the day Jack wouldn't eat, he had a rash.  It looked like a heat rash all over his face, I called ask-a-nurse and she suggested if that was the only symptom he had that is was likely baby acne and I should just keep a close eye on it.  It was hard to tell if he was sleeping out of the ordinary, or acting differently, we just met and I wasn't sure what the usual Jack behavior was yet.  Once he was in the hospital and on the antibiotics the rash went away, almost immediately.  It wasn't baby acne, heat rash, 'stork bites' or sensitive skin, it was infection running all over his whole body.  By the time Jack got a fever, the strep bacteria was winning, his white blood cell count was in the hundreds.

This was Jack's rash

I still wonder how his stay at the hospital effected him, how it may or may not have shaped his personality or pain tolerance or zest for life. He is so much like my littlest brother who was born with a club foot and endured similar poking a prodding and even surgeries.  He's spirited and particular, funny and bright, he figures a thing out quickly and is awesomely coordinated - both Jack and my brother. 

This is strong, scrappy Jack now.

July is Group B Streptococcus Infection Awareness month, the same month Jack was born.  I'm posting this now though because it's important and I was finally ready to say it.  One in four pregnant women carry it.  All doctors here in the U.S. test for it.  It's not something most people need to worry about, just something you should be aware of.  It's far scarier and more dangerous to put our baby in the car and drive everyday.  I have only this advice, wash your hands often, if your baby is under six months old and has a fever - see a doctor right away and if you feel something is "off" or "wrong" follow your intuition, it's hardly ever wrong. 

Tex

I've often wondered how long one must live a place before you feel like that's where you are from.  I've spent three Christmases in Texas and welcomed another child.  I have a library card, a voter registration and a drivers license that all say I'm a Texan. I rub my arms and make an effort to dig out socks when the temperature dips to only 65°. I like to let the ocean be my therapist, the briny water washing troubles from me with every visit. I use "ya'll".  I know that brisket is more than something you corn on St. Patrick's Day and I've tried five different kinds of tamales and seven different bread puddings. But today, I sat down at my computer with a coffee, saw a post from a place I used to work, and heard my first Midwestern accent.

.
Avoid Unnecessary Furnace Service Calls - Axberg Heating from
Axberg Heating on Vimeo.

Seven Weeks After ACL Surgery

Doctor Lowe said I have the knees of a teenager.  I'm healing up nicely and should be back to at least endurance skating in January.  I still have some swelling and some bruising and my thighs are different sizes, though I don't think it's terribly obvious.  I'm doing physical therapy twice a week and I'm able to stationary bike and get on the elliptical and some basic squats and stair step things.  I have a little spot that remains numb and the scar isn't terrible, you can click on the pic and zoom in to see.  I'm able to get around pretty well and I no longer have to wear what affectionately became known as the iron maiden on my leg.  I'll get a smaller one just for exercising, late next week.

Breakfast

Jack bounces out of bed and climbs upstairs to wake Ella who is already sitting on the side of her bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I hobble up the steps as fast as I can to keep anyone from going back to sleep or eating any leggos. After we pick clothes, we all rumble back down to the dining room and eat cereal in various dampnesses while I sip instant coffee. Everyone is officially UP and I lament running on five hours of sleep.  I am a notorious insomniac. While we wait by the window for the neighbor to pick Ella up for school, I peel the tape off my knee and we all peer at the scar underneath. Ella asks me if I am all right and I say the truth, "No it hurts, and it's going to hurt for a while, while it heals." Then her ride is here and she is off to school.  She is bursting about her first Girl Scout meeting and I can hear her already telling everyone in the carpool it is tonight.

Jack sits down in the living room ready to watch his favorite show while working at peeling the tabs on his diaper. I finally help him and upon feeling the open air on his hind side, he takes off running through the kitchen. He makes six or seven giggling laps around the island before he comes back to the living room dancing to the music from the television.  I turn towards the computer to see if I have any e-mail and turn the volume up on NPR. I tune in WNIJ, because I like to hear the news and the voices from Illinois, the same people that have told me things every morning of my adult life, it makes me feel stable.  I hear water hitting the floor behind me and remember Jack isn't wearing anything on his bottom half. I grab a paper towel, wipe up the little puddle and explain to my son again, that if he has to pee he should go to the potty in the bathroom. He seems to be telling me something, perhaps explaining his reluctance, but I don't speak seventeen month old as fluidly as I'd like so I just nod and say, "I see."

He runs to the kitchen and pulls on the refrigerator handles telling me he's ready for something more exciting than dry cereal. I open the door for him and he peruses the eye level shelf where I keep all the Jack friendly foods. He hands me a small crate of blueberries and an avocado. "Good choice" I say and cut a slice of avocado into little squares and put them next to the berries on a plate. While he munches, I get my bagel out of the toaster and spread butter on it. I think; butter in Texas spreads so easily, you don't have to fight with it like you do in Illinois. Up north the butter is never warm enough to spread and you are trying to shave a millimeter from the top so you can put a thin curl of it on you toast to melt and you have to do it while the toast is still warm, so there's a time factor.  If you say, screw it and get a solid square from the end you end up with big divots in your toast as you try to drag the chunk across your breakfast.  This must be why that southern lady, on television, likes butter so much; she never had to fight with it in the morning.

I wonder how long it will take before I stop comparing here and there when a quiet knock at the door drags me from my thoughts.  The neighbor lady I like so much is standing there with a Starbucks in her hand. I say "Come on in" and she says she doesn't have time, but she was having a tough morning and stopped for coffee for herself and thought I should get a fancy coffee too. She hands me a mocha and smiles. I tell myself again, I must do something amazing for their family on Christmas. I'm not sure what, as she out housewives me on a regular basis, so I consider doing a small painting of their house. She compliments my pajamas and I become hyper aware of the fact that I only seem to see people around here when I have no bra on.  I thank her and say we should go to lunch sometimes soon, again vowing in my head to buy lunch for her and she agrees we should go sometime soon.

Next, I'll get dressed and drive to my physical therapy appointment.  I'm hoping there will be a nap after, in which Jack and I snuggle up into a tight knot of chubby limbs and soft curls. I'll lie perfectly still trying to will Jack to sleep while he squirms and kicks and fights off missing a minute of the waking world. When his blinks get longer and longer, I'll know it's alright to drift off.  But first I'll set my alarm for 2:30 to ensure I don't miss picking the children up from school, knowing Jack always wakes me far before the alarm does.

Steppin' Out Art Gala

November 3rd 2011 at the Houston Museum of African American Culture, the Steppin' Out Art Gala and Silent Auction.  

Sixteen out of two hundred and fifty artists showed and auctioned their work, proceeds went back to the museum.  Two pieces were chosen to represent Houston at Art Basil in Miami.  Al Saulso was the photographer selected and the artist selected was Rachel Stephens. The party was sponsored by Rush Philanthropic Arts Foundation and Bombay Sapphire Vodka who entertained us with masterful drinks all night.  There were lovely horderves too, though I never made it close enough to pick up anything other than a grape off the table, instead I just stole all the snacks Kiki had on her plate. Also, thank you Fred or Tiffany for taking the first picture (above,) I really adore it. 

I showed two pieces (below) and chose not to sell them, mostly because I like them and I want to keep them.  I think I also gave the worst interview in the history of ever, stuttering something about "liking the exposure because I liked it" or some such awfulness, oh wait... I should know I give bad interview and subsequently only offer them in writing (see "Certain Searches for Certain Subjects")  Later after a few drinks seeing all the art, I got quite obsessed with people's shoes.  I took about a dozen pictures of shoes, (maybe fancy shoe post coming.) I wish I'd taken more photos that made sense, but you add vodka into the night and suddenly I'm all magpied up and wandering around blathering about shoes. 

The dress I wore with the iron maiden on my leg

Hi Mom!

"Kiss" & "Prime Rib" by me

Sam, Kiki, Christine, & Erin

Tiffany & Fred

Sara

More beautiful people

My eyes are open!

Clapping for the winners

There's my name on the glass!

Gratis drinks

The band who's name I don't know

more pretty people

"Supertheory of Supereverything" - by Rachel Stephens

"The FBI is Hiring Con Men and Sell Outs" & "Ilham" - by Michael Carter

Fashion Emergency! Help, Advice Kneeded

On a whim I entered a contest I saw advertised on Facebook.  I picked a tiny drawing I liked and submitted it. You can still go vote for it here http://bit.ly/oYozZj  voting continues through 11-13-11 so you can keep going back every day and voting if you like.  This lead to an actual show at the Houston Museum of African American Culture.  I submitted two pieces. Bombay Sapphire Vodka Artisan Series is sponsoring the show and the afterparty in conjuction with the grand opening Gala of HMAAC.  It's a juried show and two artists will be selected to participate at Miami Basel this December.

These are the two pieces I submitted

06.02.11

04.24.11

They are from the Tiny Drawings series and the only way to appreciate exactly how small they are it to see them in person.

I think I'm going to go to the after party.  The question now is; what does one wear to her first show, down-town, in the Museum District, in the fourth largest city in the nation, where people are likely to be wearing sparkly evening gowns, and the party is thrown by a vodka company, and the prize is an entrance into the biggest art show in the country, and she is wearing a leg brace hip to ankle?  I mean really? What the hell do I wear? Do I get all Lady Gaga with it or just opt for a quiet little black dress cut very short?   One thing is for sure, high heels are out.

Frankenee

In which I talk about my surgery (not very exciting unless you've googled ACL injury/are about to have the same proceedure.)

The bone patellar bone ACL reconstruction surgery I had after the complete tear in ACL from playing roller derby, performed by Dr. Walter Lowe in Houston, TX, went very well.  I've relied on wonderful friends and neighbors to get through the first week despite my desire to do everything on my own.  So, if you're at this blog post for insight before you have it done,  please get someone to help you for the first week, you will need it.  I had the proceedure on Thursday I went back to the doc today and they gave me a 60° bend in my brace and unwrapped the gauze.  It feels wonderful to be able to bend it some and even better to have all the wrapping off.  It wasn't as scrambled as I expected it to look under there and I'm a week away from getting the stitches out and being able to have a good soak in the tub.  Here's what it looks like 5 days after surgery (today) while the brace is off.  You can click to embiggen.

Thank you Kiki, for going with
 and taking the gross photo.

The pain of the first two days after surgery are something to sleep through.  The physical therapy regime is full and difficult but will get me back up and going fast so I'm eager.  In an earlier post, I misspoke, I do have two screws in there, one will turn into bone eventually and the other is titanium and MRI/metal detector safe.  I'll keep posting the progress and the evolution of the scar that I don't think I'll mind.  I'm viewing it as one would view a tattoo, it's a permanent reminder of a time in my life that I loved (more on that later when I can wrap my head around my gratitude.)

Art Cars at Trader Village

From a low angle

 

Partly Sunny

Something Green

Because of the drought, there is a lawn watering restriction in effect.  I don't mind, it's less lawn maintenance when the grass doesn't grow.  Though playing in the yard worries me because it's not as soft and lush as I'd like.  Oh, the sad problems of the first world I deal with.  I hope for rain.

I only have one thing I do in the day that is imperative and scheduled.  I mean of course it's important to upkeep the household and the health and well-being of the children, but if I skip folding the laundry there is none to yell at me but me. My only Monday through Friday must, is picking up the kid and the neighbor kids from school in the afternoon. It only takes ten minutes, unless it rains.  On days it rains, apparently, everyone runs around the school asking each other if they should let the kids go or not, despite the form I signed that said "the kid will not melt in the rain, nor will she shrivel up in the cold and I'll let her outrun the tornado if need be, just let her go out the door at the end of the day" or something like that.

Today I stood under a tree in the school yard trying to shield the baby from the freak ten minute monsoon blowing through by wrapping my body around him and his shivering blue lips while the grade schoolers peered out the window and across the field at their waiting and drenched parents.  After which they only released kids to the parents who trashed their shoes trudging across the big field of mud, with baby in arms and mascara running down their cheeks like a Tammy Faye Baker.  Yes, there was more than one of us that said to each other while walking up to the school "Oh look at this freak little grey cloud." "Maybe it'll rain for five minutes or so." "This could be fun!" and "Shouldn't be too bad.  Good for the plants."  

***

Middle Class Problems
First World Problems
First World Problems Rap

I Had to Make Some

Texas Clouds 09/28/11

Spider

I yelled over to the second lifeguard,

"There's a really big spider in the wading pool, can you get a net and come get it out?"

The young man took his time walking to the pool house to get the net while I was doing my best to corral my squiggly toddler to the non spidery end of the wading pool.  As he strolled over to us he rolled his eyes and sounding annoyed, asked me

"Where's the spider, lady?"

to which I replied

"Oh! You will see it when you get over here!"

When he dredged the water logged body of a three inch tarantula from the bottom of the pool he said

"Holy crap! I knew they lived here, but I've never seen a wild one."

We all peered into the bottom of his net looking at the furry little thing.  We beckoned lifeguard number one to stop watching the kids in the pool and come see it before he emptied the net into the garbage.  The drought has all sorts of wild animals venturing into populated places in search of water.

***

Story about Texas tarantulas during drought
Texas Drought: Fish to be rescued from River
Cattle Boom on Market
Drought Could Be Causing Uptick in Rabies Cases

These Boots Are Made for Taking the Garbage Out

We are cleaning the entire garage this weekend. I have to. I don't think I can sleep until I do. I took the garbage out last night through the garage and saw a cockroach so big that it made a noise when it ran. It stopped skittering across the floor for a moment and turned to look at me, it's little arm throwing some sort of gang sign at me; it's other little arm grabbing its crotch, all the while yelling "What what! These are MY wet boxes motha fuckah!"  Had I a can of Raid, I'm sure I coulda popped a cap in his ass, but all I had was a longish t-shirt barely covering my bum, a bag of tasty garbage and flip flops. I could have stepped on it, except I had the feeling that I would have felt it's little cockroach muscles flex through my squishy, wimpy, foam flip flop pushing back against my foot and then I'd have to flex my toes into the floor to actually squish it. I couldn't do it. I just slowly backed my way out the side door to the garbage can where I fought off the urge to run and turn over the whole house, furniture, kids, food and dog to the roach. Instead I'm fighting back, armed with various chemicals, a broom and big black boots, every box gets put away, every hunk of garbage is going out and every unwelcome animal obliterated.

Danger

My pal Kiki, over at I Still Hate Pickles posted today about the wildfires and it got me thinking about what I wish I'd grabbed when we started over in Texas.  George Bush Park was on fire last night, right in the midst of Houston.  The smell of smoke hung heavy and ash rained down over our dry dead grass and brittle pine needles.  I realized, while sitting atop a giant pile of kindling, of all the things I left in Illinois that I wish I kept, a hose might be trump.

***

Heart Attack Jack has the uncanny ability to find the most dangerous thing in the room.  This morning he climbed the stairs to Ella's lair of pink, sparkly, fluff and found the single thumb tack residing in the corner of a night stand drawer and decided it looked pretty tasty.  As I found him teetering down the stairs with a tack in his mouth, I decided that he would make a good bomb squad member, he'll be able to immediately find explosives with his special danger-senses.  

Texas Fires

There was a haze in the air this morning and the smell of smoke. I found a lovely sunrise and no fire out the window but turned the news on anyway to make sure Ella had school. They are evacuating Magnolia. The fire is moving South-East with the wind and some schools are cancelled, not ours. I closed the windows, turned on the fan and let it filter.

First Trip Around the Sun

Dusty

Living on a corner in the city of Houston is dusty business. I try to keep the windows open often to counter the smell of ageing dog and children on summer vacation. The cars drive by in this drought and send a layer of red topsoil and yellow pollen to settle on my sills. The house smells of earth so I consider it an even trade.

This Saturday

I'll be skating here this Saturday.

http://www.thehotrodhoedown.com/

Grace Laughed at Me

I went to the court house yesterday to renew my car license registration. The line went out the door. There were cobwebs hanging off the people. I hoped that the office with no line was the one I needed to visit, but the lady behind the desk with no line told me to get in the line. I asked her if she thought it would move fast enough for me to get out of there in time to pick the kid up from school in three hours. She laughed at me and said I should come back today early in the morning. I left. I didn't think it was nice of her to laugh. I didn't go back today. I tried to do it online. Since we moved I have to go in person. I'm hoping tomorrow, day three of the five day overdue grace period, will be less crowded and the morning won't feel so early or funny.

Chilly Scene

Kiki over at

is still doing 365 skies and this morning, I remembered while standing in my front yard looking up and thinking that this grey cold sky is making me home sick, I want to be included in the Friday Sky Roundup. So here is the cold grey Texas sky. While friends and family back home are trying to stay warm on the day they cancelled school because it was -25°, we were forced to get gloves and hats out for 32° .