In a few days is the first anniversary of my second (third?) blood clot. It was my second hospital stay for blood-clot related reasons, let's just keep it simple.

My first set of blood clot(s) - one in each lung, technically making them 'pulmonary emboli' rather than 'deep vein thromboses' (which is what the second one was) - happened two years ago; in fact, my second clot-i-versary coincides neatly with my wedding anniversary. I spent my seventh anniversary in Bellevue with a heparin drip, an EKG and pulse oximeter, a tray of uneaten chicken and mashed potatoes, a desultory hand-made card from my husband, and incredible amounts of tension. Shortly after I arrived home from Bellevue, after I went back to work, I asked him to move out. Nothing like piling tension on tension.

The second clot - the DVT - was a surprise, because I had quit the Pill and considered my problem solved. Actually, that's not true; I lived in holy fear that it would happen again. When I was striding across the overpass in the Newark Gateway Center I felt a sharp, fierce twinge in my calf and I knew what was happening.

The first time I was hospitalized I was numb and exhausted, having been running around with blocked pulmonary vessels for far too long. The second time, I was angry and anxious. I was uncooperative and demanding; I got my bags searched by Mt. Sinai Security when I railed against my lack of anxiety meds and threatened to take my own pills.

Over the past two years, I've paid thousands of dollars for injectable heparin. I've been so loaded with Klonopin I've been a zombie at times, the anxiety attacks being fierce and frequent. I've looked like a fat bruised junkie more than I care to remember. I've taken innumerable cabs to stew in innumberable waiting-rooms for constant monitoring and agonizing.

Since last year, I've lost weight, continuing on my pre-clot fitness 'kick' with renewed energy and a great deal more help and support. It's no longer a kick; it's how I'm trying, as best I can, to live my life. At the same time, I'm trying to go easier on myself, personally, while pushing myself to live properly (as my old shrink used to say).

I've gotten a new shrink, and a new doctor or two. They are wonderful women who help me take care of myself in so many ways.

This year I learned that I have a condition that will clot up my blood with relatively little to do with me - it's a genetic problem that causes me to produce antibodies that gum up the works (anticardiolipin antibody syndrome for you educated folk). You'd think this would make me more fatalistic; it may have two years ago, but it strangely doesn't now. It has made me rethink the desire to have children, which waxes and wanes, because the miscarriage risk is incredibly high. An interesting corollary, no doubt, to my reproductive woes.

Two years ago, or one year ago, I couldn't have handled this news. Two years ago, I'd not be wearing a skirt without stockings or probably even this patterned pink top that I adore. I'd not be pumping weights at the gym with pleasantly few aftereffects the next day, or less than I expected. I'd not be walking a six mile walkathon, or running for a train (in my case, a fast hobble down the subway steps; my peculiar knee anatomy has resigned me to my awkward downhill gait). I wouldn't be marching in a Memorial Day Parade. I'd not be forsaking a bag of chocolate almonds on my desk or refrigerating half a sandwich after lunch.

I'm very lucky. I'm loved and needed and alive. In the peculiarly wobbly cycle of life, it's what I am truly needed to be right now.

Potatoes are done but I'm awake

A touch of insomnia perhaps. Although I was quite productive - I now have several leftover bean tostadas (corn tortilla, veggie refried beans, taco sauce, fat free cheese and some lowfat sour cream); pesto potato salad with grilled salmon (stolen freely from here minus the olives with the salmon as my idea) and an extra grilled salmon fillet. Not to mention a freezer full of brownies (baked Sunday).

I have heard that there are two kinds of people in the world - those who like olives and those who don't.

A new avatar?

I think I need a new avatar. Kyle Secor circa 1990s you've been good to me, but it may be time to move on.

But who, pray tell, who do I use to represent my ghostly presence on these internets?

More to come. I've got potatoes cookin'.


News you can use

From Gawker.

Bleah. Shouldn't have read it during my lovely Chipotle lunch.

(As the doctor in Bloom County said to Steve Dallas after his tragic flammable-mascara accident, "Smooth chested men leave me clammy.")

What's new with me?

Not much, what's new with you?

Jem & The Holograms was a smashing success last night by all accounts. I had a blast, especially at the end watching the finale (my work here is done) from the tech booth with a swinging and bewigged Pat Baer.

I've lost my cell phone and resigned to the fact of sucking it up and buying a new one (no not an iPhone, thank you very much). Maybe I'll go balls-out and get a Treo, or just get the crappiest POS in the place.

Comedy partner Dale put the idea into my head of having a dinner party. Pad Thai, anyone?

I'm going to the gym tonight for sure, after putting in some good working hours.

Now that Jem has gone on, I need to sit back and get my own creative priorities in order. And straighten out some other business-business. Yikes!

I bought a friend (nickname pending) some lovely DVDs for his 33rd birthday - The Aristocrats and Season 1 of Dr. Katz. He was sweet enough to wait until I called to open them, and he was pretty thrilled. Nothing like getting someone the right gift!

Next week's July 4th. I'm not a fireworks fan, but I may hit the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest bright and early! Trying to get 'Pembleton' to go with me, who said he won't go if Kobayashi (champ with a sore jaw) pulls out. Status is day to day!

This weekend's a ways off but I'm making some minor plans - Chinatown, maybe the roller derby (Bronx Gridlock!) or just chilling out/cleaning house, which I sorely neglected last weekend. Possibly scooting to Long Island for the day.

Indeed, things aren't bad at all.


The (intentionally) lamest YouTube video!

Thanks Janet!

Whoremoans (say it fast)

Things that have gotten me mildly choked up lately:

1 - The end of last week's "Big Love"
2 - Two or three songs from "Jacques Brel is alive and well and living in Paris" and "Jesus Christ Superstar"
3 - Half of Carole King's "Tapestry"
4 - Checking myself out in the locker room mirror in Danskin workout leggings and a tshirt from ninety or so pounds ago and now resembles a "Flashdance" shirt
5 - Shopping with my Mom today

Things that are puzzling:

1 - How I can buy obscure cookie ingredients at the supermarket and forget cat food
2 - Why I have a Palm Pilot at all and whether I should sell my laptop or not (that I am typing on right now)
3 - Why I am slightly fatter on one side of my body than the other (along the vertical axis not horizontal) and why working out makes that more prominent. Seriously what the eff is up with my arms?

I need to menstruate and soon. For real.


I like my shirt.

Just saying. I'm surprised, because it's (a) made from unnatural fibers (b) predominately pink and (c) patterned with paisley and floral design. Still and all, it's a lovely shirt.

I like my skirt; it's black with some white daisies embroidered on, and the dry cleaner took it in a few inches at the waist for me.

I've been wearing less black lately, though, overall. Odd.


Hungry, pale or bawdy?

Yum! Another giggle for today. I'm so easy. And the photo on the main page is worth an extra chortle.


Very Important Poll #463

Who is your favorite Ricky?

A - Ricky Nelson
B - Ricky Martin
C - Ricky Ricardo
D - Ricky's Drugstore

Got any bright ideas, nerdz?

Invention contest on Gizmodo to win an iPhone.

your friendly neighborhood patent attorney


Mornin' thinkin'

If someone makes you feel smarter, cuter and funnier than you sometimes feel about yourself, odds are you're going to want to keep them around. Right? Huh? Well?

Even if it freaks you out a bit.

Oh, and -

"If you're not fully emotionally available...be fucking celibate. Jerk fucking off.
Stop dating people who still have feelings who can still be hurt."
- Dan Savage, "Savage Love" podcast

I mean, it could be forever. It could be temporary. But, all in all, a good fucking rule to live by.


A Very Special Interest Group on Lifetime...

While googling "Fat Actress" (for reasons which will become clear at some point) I came across this highly amusing piece by USA Today gossiper (yeesh) Whitney Matheson.


It's in my head!

I'm currently working in the Being John Malkovich office space. Not that the ceilings on the floor are actually half-height, but the fact that (1) it's adjacent to a construction zone, (2) the floor is 85% uninhabited and 90% dark due to unactivated motion detector switches, (3) it's too quiet and thus just plain eerie, all give it rather a dim and paradoxically cramped feel.

I'm also quite turned on right now, but for completely unrelated reasons.

And this is gross.



I just started thinking of someone as a 'friend with drawbacks.'

As opposed to a 'friend with benefits.'

Get it? See the juxtaposition?

Ohhhh....I crack myself up, I do.

duh-huh-uh, I'm a SCORPIO!

I always liked Rob Brezny's charming Free Will Astrology. May be silly, but he's got a neat turn of phrase:

I suggest we title this chapter of your life story "The Perplexing Joy of Hundreds of Emotions," or maybe "The Wild Peace of Way Too Many Feelings." That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it's an apt reflection of your immediate future: extreme, expansive, melodramatic, spectacularly educational, and filthy rich with intrigue. You may not break the world's record for most mood shifts in a good cause, but you could very well smash your own personal record.


Stars, in their multitude.....

Aren't cheesy horoscopes fun? They inevitably make me giggle, nod knowingly or some such ridiculous assent to the generic assessment of my completely individual personality traits.

So here's the latest, from Glamour (I'm a Scorpio, surprise, you know how we are):

You tend to think of yourself as an emotional wreck, but there's a logical explanation for your obsessiveness. You're intensely emotional and mystically sexual (oh, those eyes!). No need to apologize. The key to your spiritual maintenance is finding healthful outlets for your passion, creativity, artistry and sensitivity. Yours is perhaps the most powerful sign of the zodiac. Take care not to surrender to Scorpio's darker side. You have the capacity to self-destruct and to destroy others. Your fear of losing control can wreak havoc, because it may induce you to grab power or attempt to control others excessively. When you're not doing well, you tend to detach and retreat from human contact. That's bad news because your intensity diffuses among groups. Sharing is vital to your long-term bliss. Your best match is someone who shares your interest in metaphysics and is charmed by your ethereal, fanciful musings. Don't batter yourself for your insecurities and emotional instabilities. Think of it as the cost of being a deep thinker. Your philosophies on such topics as survival, life's deeper meanings and reincarnation couldn't have become so highly evolved without a dose of depression. Still, you'll be fine. Your resourcefulness, work ethic, strength, courage and efficiency are your saving graces.

And while you're there, vote for "Jake" - as long as you think Jake should be Michael Somerville. I'm biased. Mike is a sweet funny guy who I've had the pleasure of being comedic with from time to time.


How big strapping gals look adorable

1. By standing next to a very, very tall dude. (If you are not aware, I am 5-9 barefoot. And by the way I was told that I look 'petite' and 'normal sized' by two different friends. Indeed!)

2. By wearing a friggin' sundress.

Well, kind of adorable. I was worried about my arms, but it was pointed out that the arms may not be the focal point of the dress.

And perhaps not using words like 'friggin' may help.


How do you spell relief?

OK, this is hilarious:

Bathroom Blog

Confused? Yeah, me too.

I was trying to find a nice bouncy cynical song to post, but this is the one that popped into my head:

I don't know how to love him.
What to do, how to move him.
I've been changed, yes really changed.
In these past few days, when I've seen myself,
I seem like someone else.
I don't know how to take this.
I don't see why he moves me.
He's a man. He's just a man.
And I've had so many men before,
In very many ways,
He's just one more.
Should I bring him down?
Should I scream and shout?
Should I speak of love,
Let my feelings out?
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Don't you think it's rather funny,
I should be in this position.
I'm the one who's always been
So calm, so cool, no lover's fool,
Running every show.
He scares me so.
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Yet, if he said he loved me,
I'd be lost. I'd be frightened.
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.
I'd turn my head. I'd back away.
I wouldn't want to know.
He scares me so.
I want him so.
I love him so.
- Jesus Christ Superstar, "I Don't Know How to Love Him"

For the life of me, I have no fucking idea what this means.

In brief

I haven't been able to write about stuff that I've been meaning to - AIDSWalk, the Memorial Day Parade, and Melissa's lovely wedding (just this past weekend).

But working backwards, I can tell you a few things I did at Melissa's wedding weekend (which was allover glorious) that I've never done before: having reiki, drinking 31 year old scotch, learning Magic: The Gathering, eating sausage casserole and gnome cake, meeting a man whose shirts I can wear (kind of like finding the Holy Grail), and visiting Stone Mountain (with the Southern Mount Rushmore). I did not, however, make it to the Waffle House this time south.

Here are the photos.

Now I've got work to do, carry on!


is it my imagination....

or does this in fact actually look like a 'nugget?


Funzo Timewasters that are Good for You

I forget how much I enjoy McSweeney's:

From the irresistable (even if they constantly reject my submissions. Okay, submission) Review of New Food:

I like my dried apricots like I like my men: thin, tart, and rather difficult to chew.