We celebrated Christmas early, on the 17th, a Saturday.  Someone brought germs. DD1 was extremely fussy Monday evening.  In the wee hours of Tuesday morning she woke screaming with a fever of 104.  I gave her some medicine, which brought her temperature down.  But didn’t help with the fussiness.  And she was seriously congested.  There was no going back to sleep.

She stayed miserable and developed a red eye.  We were up all night again.  Wednesday, we went to the pediatrician, who confirmed a nasty virus and conjunctivitis (pink eye).  Giving a one year old stinging eye drops three times per day in each eye is a miserable task.  DH helped.

I got sick next. This surprised nobody since I’d been up all night with a sick baby for two nights in a row.  DH tried to help me at night so that I could sleep.  But DD1 wasn’t having it.  During the day, while healthy, she thinks him a rock star.  At 2:00 AM, with a fever, she wanted mommy.  I got a 104 fever too, and now understand why flu can actually kill elderly people.  I haven’t been so miserably sick for years.

DD7 did not get sick, which is fantastic for her health.  Unfortunately, she was bored to tears being stuck in the house with all of us sick people.  DH got sick last.  And he, DD1 and I still have lingering sore throat and congestion.

I need to remember this next year, and actually get the flu shot, instead of thinking that I will, but forgetting.  DD7 got the flu mist.  DD1 got something else, because she is younger.  DH and I did nothing.  Not a smart move.

Did you know that not everyone can pick things up with their toes? I did not. I did not realize that it is an actual genetic trait, like whether or not a person can curl their tongue, and possessing of an official anatomical name and medical definition.

I guess the fact that  having extra teeth has a name (supernumerary) and definition should have tipped me off.

Strangely (as if there is another way) I discovered this in a book having nothing to do with anatomy. I was reading Robert Leckie’s Helmet for My Pillow. He comes across a footprint, while in Melanesia, and describes it as somewhat small, with prehensile toes, native feet.

What!? So I searched the net for prehensile feet and found two different types, each having two varieties. And drawings and pictures too. Clearly I never studied podiatry. Apparently, the toes of a prehensile foot are slightly wider spaced from big toe to the next toe. And sometimes the big toe is the same height, or much shorter than the next one. If you have feet that slant artfully down from the big toe, those are pretty but unable to pick up socks.

Being the freak that I am, laughing, I immediately called an auntie and asked if she could pick things up with her feet. She said, “Of course, I can sort laundry with them. Why do you ask?”

I told her about the book, and quick internet research. And all the while we are laughing about what bizarre human specimens our family has produced.  Who knew that we had special feet?

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• My Helmet for My Pillow Book

Ugh.

I decided to cover my grey hair.  This is fairly stupid, since my hair is very dark.  Miss Clairol and I do not agree on what dark brown looks like.  To me, my hair looks nearly black.  So I looked at the box and did my best to choose the same color (as my natural color) 4N.  Yeah, not so much.  My natural color has a lot of red.  But… being completely clueless about hair color, I read several articles all of which said use a neutral color to cover grey.  Well, it came out darker than my natural color and washed out in a week.

Really, permanant should last more than one week.

My new hair color. by lizzie1326

A month later, I tried again.  L’Oreal this time I think.  5N.  It did cover the grey, and absolutely every hint of red that was in my hair.  I look washed out and tired.  People are asking me if I feel okay – like when I wear black.  I am very fair with dark hair.  Wearing black is Elvira-ish in a very unflattering way.

Yeah, covering grey is not supposed to make me look older.

Will try one more time, with a reddish shade.  If this is unsuccessful, I will accept hair color defeat.

I checked out a half dozen books with hair and fashion advice.  Most of it should be obvious and therefore is not.  Such as that wearing clothing that is stretched out or doesn’t fit makes you look fat.  I read this and thought how silly that I haven’t noticed that my bras are all stretched out.  Duh, I haven’t purchased a new one since before I got pregnant!  I went shopping.

Shopping sucked.  The bras are flattering.  The baby hates them.  She cannot gain unauthorized access to the food source.  She’s quite ticked.

I went back to the same store a few days later.  The baby was done shopping.  I was not.  I got four tanks for layering.  I attempted shapewear – also a fashion magazine recommendation.  I could not get any of it over my head.  This prompted me to workout, which is far more pleasant than the thought of stuffing self like a sausage and being unable to remove garments to pee.

Sadly, I still need to shop.  I need a bathing suit that does not make me feel like troll.  Because I must make sure my kids know how to swim.  And pool avoidance has gone on long enough.

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• Grandmaman Loses Her Hair
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I just snapped this photo in a moment of glee, quickly diluted by the fact that I could wear my pre-pregnancy pants much sooner after my first baby.  And that there is a giant mess in my photo.  But I have a newborn.  So I have temporarily reduced my standards.  And I personally dislike blogs where the writer never posts their own photo or pokes a little fun at themselves.  So voila.  Here I am amongst my mess.

I would say I have no idea why I am wearing a black shirt.  But I was trying on everything to see if it fit or not.  Even though I very rarely wear black up near my face.  I am really pale.  And black shirts tend to make me look tired.  This is especially bad when I am tired, like now, and pretty much all the time, for months.

Ah well.  I’m hardly back to pre-pregnancy fitness.  But the jeans are encouraging.  I’m sure I can thank breastfeeding and the immense calories it burns.  I am ridiculously hungry all the time.  I can really eat.  And yet, can get the jeans on.  It is absurd.

This will come back to bite me when the baby weans and I’ve been getting away with all manner of chowing down and the calorie burn suddenly ceases.    But I’ll enjoy it for now.  It’s not like I’m enjoying sleep.

And as DH says, when you get sleep, you won’t have a baby this cute.  She’ll still be cute of course, but not such a tiny baby.

While switching from Summer to Fall clothing, I tossed out a lot of clothes.  I finally came to the conclusion that just because something fits that doesn’t mean it fits my lifestyle.  I usually toss out things that suddenly became ugly to me while they were in the box.  Or I should have tossed them out the prior season and didn’t realize there is a hole, or blah, blah, blah.  But this time I tossed a dozen skirts.  Because seriously, I don’t need a dozen skirts to only wear a skirt a few times a year.  I kept two.

I still have plenty to do.  With the postpartum weight loss and the unpacking.  But hooray for progress, however slow.

scenic route

I did feel better to do a little exploring. I ran my errand and came home. Once it was late enough for the stores to open, I headed back out to the mall. Again, not something I usually do. But since the earlier diversion was helpful to my psyche, I went for it. I got DH a lovely le Creuset risotto pan. A totally unromantic gift, at his request. Gotta love a man who cooks.

Now, I’ve removed the legs and wings from the monolithic turkey I bought yesterday and am braising them. One side of the butchering came out nicely. The other side is horrible, like a right side dominant swimmer who to tries to breath on the left. I am not usually that way. I can breath on the left and right when I swim. But I totally goofed with the turkey carving. It’s done. But it looks terrible.

I wrapped up the neck and gizzards, and breasts for DH to carve later. I’m hoping he’ll be a much better butcher than I am, and try out his new pot. That’s what cheers us up around here.

It is insane that I am braising turkey. I meant to leave it for DH entirely. But then realized nothing else is defrosted and need to have something cooked for dinner. So there it is.

Cashmere goats by cramsay23

This has not carried over into yarn so much, or specifically sweaters. I used to crochet (not well enough for sweaters). And DD and DH both have blankets that I crocheted for them. DDs is very cute. DHs is an odd color combination to me. But he picked it out. And he likes it. So there you go. Both of those are acrylic, which is not my favorite. Because after a while, it pills and can look very cheap. And if I can choose something not a petroleum product, I will.

So here is what I found out about fabric/fiber and eczema:

• Cotton is king. (I knew this.)
• Silk is queen, because it has hundreds of microfibers and is very smooth. But it can have resins in it that are irritating to some people.
• Bamboo and rayon are breathable, natural fibers. They rank next.
• Wool is the number one itch offender. But not all wool is created equal. Wool is classified by microns, which is the thickness of each strand. The thicker the strand, the scratchier the surface. The finer the strand, the smoother the surface.
• Cashmere, angora, and alpaca are names of animals. I’m sure you knitters and lovers of animal husbandry say duh. But I did not know until recently. I thought cashmere and alpaca were types of sheep, not different animals altogether.
• Since cashmere is finer than many wools and comes from a goat some people who cannot tolerate wool can wear it.
• Alpaca, an animal, not a sheep. Finer than wool, potentially tolerable.
• Angora, from a rabbit and claims to be hypoallergenic, even to those with very sensitive skin.

Obviously, these things are somewhat subjective. But I post it here in case it can be useful to somebody else, and for commentary.

Close-up of baby alpaca by m_morgavan

I read more than one article by dermatologists claiming that silk must be dermablend, the kind that is antimicrobial and used in hospitals. But I have always found ordinary clothing silk to be pretty skin friendly, especially if hand washed.

My experience with bamboo has not been the best. The bamboo fabric I’ve encountered has been extremely thin knit and has run. I’m thinking this may have been a fluke. I can’t see it having become so popular if it ran all the time. It was not at all itchy. I’m thinking I will give it another try.

I’ve had very good luck with wool blend suits that are lined. They wear well. And if they are blended with rayon or something and lined seem to always be comfortable.

I can’t even be in the room with an angora sweater. I don’t know what that’s about.

I am about to give up on lining these three sweaters that belonged to my grandmother. They are 100 percent wool. And even lined, they itch me like I am on fire. I find this so sad. They fit me perfectly. And I really prefer to keep them.

I wonder if I can justify consoling myself with a cashmere sweater or a silk scarf.

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I feel yuk. 

I have an article due and think the deadline is tomorrow.  Stupidly, I am not sure. 

ABC News: EXCLUSIVE: Applegate Underwent Breast Removal to Stop Cancer

“I didn’t want to go back to the doctors every four months for testing and squishing and everything. I just wanted to kind of get rid of this whole thing for me. This was the choice that I made and it was a tough one.”
…

But Applegate is healthy and calm now, due to both her unflappible
sense of humor — “I’m going to have the best boobs in the nursing
home” — and the powerful inspiration she gained from her mother, Nancy
Priddy, a repeat breast cancer survivor.

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All of it.

Oh the joy of chemotherapy. I asked her is she upset. She said of course she is upset. She has always been proud of her hair!

I said, well, I didn’t know if she would be upset. When my mother’s hair fell out she (my mother) was not upset about it. I was really upset about it. But my mother was not. Thinking about it now, years later, the thought of my bald mother disturbs me tremendously.

So, Grandmaman is losing all of her hair. I asked if it is falling out in patches, or just thinning – in what way is it falling out? She said when she brushes her hair; the hair just comes out in great big gobs on the brush.

Yuk.

I am not happy about this. This is not good for her spirits. This is a woman who wanted her makeup in the emergency room.

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We had the okra rice for dinner. It was good. But we all decided that we prefer okra fried, to avoid the slime. C’est la vie. We did healthy okra tonight. Next week we can throw it in cornmeal and fry it; if it’s in the CSA box. I tried to make sure I browned it well to avoid slime. But… not so much. It is okra.

On my web travels to find the nutritional value of okra I discovered that it is of African origin and was brought to the Southern US during the time period when slavery was legal. That is pretty much all I got out of the article after the high fiber content, as I became distracted. Later I tried to imagine some pour soul smuggling okra seeds in her pocket.

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