Top 5 Friday

Top 5 Random Things that make me Happy:

5. The word insouciance

4. The word corporeal

3. The intro to the Colbert Report (yes, I've seen it a hundred times, but it makes me smile every time)

2. Making my own background on google:

1. This collection of "treasures" at the Menlo Park library:

Not shown are a slide rule and high school diploma from 1957.

Menlo Park's Once-ler

The Menlo Park City Council voted 3-2 last night to let a developer cut down one of the biggest redwoods in the city so she could extract the most possible profit from her investment.

In tree vs. cash, cash wins.

This developer, Kim Lemieux, referred to for the rest of this post as The Once-ler*, bought a house on University Avenue in 2007 with the intention of tearing it down and building a bigger, "better" house to then sell for a huge profit. She has done this about a dozen times before in Menlo Park. Because of her experience she knew about Menlo Park's Heritage Tree Ordinance, which says that you have to get permission from the city to chop down any tree bigger than 12 inches in diameter. From the beginning it was her intention to chop down the tree, and she assumed her request would be rubber-stamped. (She has not said this publicly, but it's pretty obvious to anyone who has followed this saga.)

As is their right, the next-door neighbors (my new colleague on the Environmental Quality Commission, Christina Smolke, and her husband) filed an appeal after the planning commission approved her house design, with the tree removal included. The Once-ler said she couldn't possibly build a viable house on that lot with the tree in place, right in the middle of the deep, narrow lot. We on the EQC said we didn't believe her. In October the city council listened to her sob story about how she just had to bigger her house in order to bigger her money. They decided they couldn't possibly make a decision about this without paying some experts $7,500 to tell them if a house could be built with the tree there.

These experts said it could. The Once-ler said it would be too expensive, and no one would want to buy the house under the redwood tree anyway, because it would make the house oh so sad and dreary. The council (or at least three of the five present) bought it and said, "OK, Once-ler, it's only one tree."

I hope the city is working on a new logo this morning.

*The Once-ler is the villain in the great Dr Seuss book, The Lorax. In it, the Once-ler discovers the beautiful Truffula trees, and uses them to knit Thneeds until they are all gone and he and all the animals who lived in the Truffula forest are ruined.

Before and After

Both these xrays show same foot, my very own right foot. Is that amazing or what?

I had another doc appointment today and got my stitches out, which wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it was going to be. He changed the bandages and said I can start taking showers without wrapping my foot in a plastic bag. I'm a little nervous about taking care of the wound myself, but he says it's healing fine. (Don't worry, I'll post a new pic when I change the bandages.) And in a week, I can try to wear a real shoe!

How cold is too cold?

Sitting here at my dining room table, wearing two sweaters and slugging hot coffee, I'm practically shivering. Why? $250 to PG&E last month, that's why. This giant rented box we're living in, with its single-pane windows and shoddy construction, is a sieve, and there's very little we can do about that. I've set the thermostat to 66. In the master bedroom, we've put a plastic sheet -- the kind you shoot with a blow-dryer to seal -- over the bathroom window. The vent in there is busted, so I use a space heater when I'm showering.

We can't put in new windows. We're stuck here more or less indefinitely. The males of the house don't seem bothered by the chill; my husband is content to put on a sweatshirt. Should I pick up some cheap longjohns? Or admit defeat, turn up the heat, and find another way to save cash? The new $2 wine at Whole Foods is half-way decent...

Frankentoe!

I went to the doctor this morning and finally got to see what's been under the two inches of bandages on my foot all week. The doc says it's healing nicely and it seems like I've been doing all the things I'm supposed to. This week I need to keep using my ice machine and gingerly putting weight on the foot. I am also supposed to wiggle my toe back and forth with my fingers, to make sure the healing happens within normal range of motion.

But the really exciting news is that I got a temporary handicapped parking placard! Basically, I can park anywhere I want for free until the end of April.

We sadly bid Aloha this morning to my mother-in-law, who was here for a week doing alll the cooking, cleaning, laundry, errands and miscellaneous pet- and child-care while I started recovering.

Now, if you are squeamish, don't scroll down, because there's an awesomely gruesome picture of my incision.

Ready?

Here it comes...

Keep going if you like gross stuff.

If you don't, close your browser window now!

It's almost here!

Behold, the Frankentoe:

surgered

My foot has been sliced on and the healing is underway for my formerly-bunioned right foot.

In case you're wondering, as I did, how they make sure they do the correct side, a nurse had me write YES in purple marker close to the spot that's to be worked on.

Basically the doc cut my foot open, broke the bone below my big toe, shaved some of it off, shoved it into place, and put in some kind of screw that disintegrates over time. Took about an hour and a half, during which time I was totally out.

The numbing medication is still in effect, but my toes are starting to tingle just a bit, so it's time to take a painkiller, per doc's orders. I have a cold machine that pumps ice water into tubes wrapped around my foot, and that's supposed to be on for 20 minutes and off again, so I don't get frostbite.

I'm supposed to say in bed for the first few days and then I'll be hobbling around a bit. My wonderful mother-in-law, who had the surgery a couple years ago, is here to help take care of the boys for a week.

I see much knitting and listening to audio books in my future...

Oh, and I didn't' feel the earthquake, or if I did I just thought I was dizzy from drugs and fasting.

At least we're not in New York

I've been spending most of the last couple days trying to remember why I used to like staying in hotels. There's just not a room big enough to make staying in one room with two hyper, out-of-their-routine little boys a pleasant experience. There is humor in the TV, which reveals the ridiculous "news" channel practices that get even more ridiculous during an event like the current east coast Snowpocalypsmagedon. While working out I watched a guy standing in a snow bank with the words "In the Eye of the Blizzard" on the screen. There did not appear to be any snow falling at that moment.

And just now I glanced over at the TV here in the hotel lobby, which is showing the Weather Channel, of course, and the current temperature here is 8. EIGHT. FAHRENHEIT. Naturally, I forgot to pack something we actually need (the three-year-old's swim trunks) so I'll have to venture out later to procure those. At least it's sunny.

Who needs tastebuds?

Faithful readers of this blog will recall that I have long struggled with a diet soda addiction. Fortunately I've been able to replace most of my soda consumption with coffee. At least at home. When I'm out, I default to pop, mostly because of the temperature. Every time I have coffee (non-iced) from a shop or restaurant I experience severe tongue damage. Yet I see people get a steaming cup from Starbucks and immediately sip all the time. Have these people so damaged their tongues that they are desensitized? Or do have a particularly sensitive tongue? I really would love it if someone could explain this to me.

A little less evil in the world this morning

Something magical and wonderful has happened in San Jose of all places. Yes, I know San Francisco banned plastic bags a while back, but that sort of action is expected from them, despite their unforgivable sinfulness. Marin is going for it, too. One county and city at a time, I guess.

I actually have a lot of plastic bags in my house right now, on purpose, since I learned how to crochet them into durable, reusable bags from a crafter/teacher in Redwood City. I saw these bags at the county fair over the summer and was so blown away, now I'm trying to collect the bags that are crochet-able and get more people to learn the craft.

Of course, all the crocheters in the world won't get a hold of the billions of plastic bags circulating, polluting land and water, threatening animals of all kinds and using petroleum. So hooray for places like San Jose and Marin. Until then, try making some plarn! And send me your plastic bags. I'm really hoping to get some of those big, bright red Target bags...

(At right is my first attempt at one of these bags; I still need to figure out how to do handles. And yes, it's a bit small; the lego man is there for perspective.)

PSA

If you are planning to rent a house any time soon, hire a home inspector. You may think this is only necessary if you are purchasing a house, but you would be wrong.

When we signed a lease a year ago, we were in a bit of a hurry, since we wanted to unload our old house and the rentals we were seeing were mostly hideous and overpriced. The home we ended up choosing is hideous and overpriced, but it's also huge and in a great location.

On our first walk-through after we got the keys, we noticed a little pile of what looked like wood shavings in the downstairs bedroom. Being California homeowners, we immediately identified them as termite droppings. Fab.

In January, shortly after moving in, the rains came. And so did The Drip. In the craft/guest room. Not far from my scrapbooks. Double fab. Our landlord had some guys come and clean off the flat roof and maybe do a bit of patch work, and the dripping stopped. When the rains started again this fall, the drips came right back, one in the same place and one in another. After several patch jobs (landlord has a number of lame excuses for not replacing the roof) it seems the roof is in sufficiently shored up. There have been no more drips.

The point is, all would have come to light with a reputable inspector and we would have continued our house hunt. Next time...

Where did I go wrong?

This guy and this guy have written books. Not just books, but successful books that people read. They don't necessarily like them, but they read them and make TV shows and movies out of them. Books made into TV shows and movies, for the love of pete.

Maybe I just need to pick something and write a book about it. There are always people on the Daily Show who wrote books about random stuff. Like waves or Cleopatra, and that's just in the last week!

Surely someone can help me come up with a book idea. Anyone? Bueller?

The ultimate purple issue

It seems that Americans on both sides of the cultural divide have found a common enemy: the TSA. No one wants to be groped or back-scattered or microwaved in the name of airport safety. We'd prefer to have dogs sniff our bags -- and we'd probably rather have them sniff our crotches than have our nether-regions grabbed by TSA hacks.

San Francisco progressives and Midwestern conservatives seem to agree that the government has gone too far in the name of safety, without actually making us any safer. Nothing like a common enemy to unite the persecuted masses!

The problem seems to be that the powers that be on both ends of the rainbow are too far above the fray to be affected. They charter their own flights or get a pass through security and don't have to be frisked or fried.

Something's gotta give here. The only possible winner? Amtrak.

Veggie tales

Feeding my kids has always been the single biggest source of stress to me as a parent. As an infant, my oldest didn't nurse well and I didn't make enough milk, and I had bought into the breast-feeding propaganda about how your baby would be ruined for life if they got formula from a bottle. (Luckily I managed to figure out that it wasn't that big of deal and was able to relax with my second one.)

Then when they were eating baby food, it was still me being personally responsible for every ounce of nutrition that went into them. I nearly had a nervous breakdown packing for a cruise when my youngest was 6 months old. What if I didn't bring enough rice cereal and pureed sweet potato? But at least then they ate veggies.

Now my oldest has it as a point of pride that he does not eat veggies. But it might be getting better. At a parent ed program recently the topic was nutrition, and I was inspired to try putting those veggies on his plate at least once in a while. Our weekday schedule doesn't provide a time for "family meal" (at least not with the whole family) but on weekends now we're all eating the same thing.

One night it was chili. "Are there vegetables in chili? Next time you make chili you should not put any vegetables in it," says the five year old. The three-year-old will try anything. The five year old complained some and only ate the meat. But the week before that we had risotto and he threw a full-on screaming rolling-around-on-the-floor fit about the onion in the risotto. Maybe we were making progress.

Then last night I cooked up his favorite food item: ravioli. He asked me what was in the ravioli. I said, truthfully, butternut squash. He started on a 20-minute fit that at one point became so overblown and dramatic I had to stifle laughter. Mercifully I was relieved by my husband to go to a parent ed session. The change of authority figure presented the proper setting for consumption of the food, apparently. Dad convinced him it was edible. Progress takes many forms, I suppose.

Slackingest blogger ever

Why can't I get myself back in gear here? The idea of writing something is a good one. But the something is the sticking point. When I read “Where I Was From” on a plane a couple months ago I wished for a computer to type at and get out all my thoughts. I scribbled out some thoughts in my travel journal about asking my mom about our ancestors and writing about my thoughts on the Donner Party and Yosemite Valley and HH Valley and my parents and parenting. Of course now that all sounds uninspiring. I wonder, if I just keep typing, will something interesting come out?

“Manic Monday” and “Top Five Friday” seem to get me to blog semi-regularly, when I'm thinking about it, though that's not really writing. Maybe if I pick a few themes for my writing and assign one to each day of the week, then when I have time I’ll be able to just write. And if I can manage to jot down those ideas that come to me when I’m driving or reading or watching TV then I can expand on them later.

I do feel a tiny push of motivation when I get yet another comment on my favorite of my blog posts, which continues to be the top hit when you google "Terry Gross Sucks," as I did the other day.

Top 5 Friday

Top 5 Things about my neighborhood that are completely insane

5) I can't see my hand in front of my face after dark on the sidewalk in front of my house

4) There are no sidewalks between my house and my kid's school

3) I live closer to the big park in Atherton than the one in Menlo Park, but I can't walk there, unless I pay $125 for a key to a special gate

2) I can't park my car on the street in front of my own house

1) Did I mention that there are no sidewalks? Thanks, Atherton.

Indecent Propositions

If you're a perennial absentee voter in California, you've already received your ballot and maybe you've even voted. Hopefully you voted Yes on 19 and No on 23.

Let's start with 23. It's pretty much a no-brainer. Unless you're a global-warming denier (I actually heard a news clip in which someone said global warming is probably a scheme to make money for the solar panel companies, cause apparently *those* are the energy companies with huge lobbying budgets and scientists in their back pockets because they have bottomless pits of money). So basically you need to vote no on this so that California can continue leading the way in reduction of greenhouse gasses.

Prop 19 is the pot legalization prop. Not *quite* so much of a no-brainer, but the arguments against it are pretty weak. Here are the pros:
-we stop wasting money on busting pot smokers
-we get money from taxing the pot, like with liquor or cigarettes
-we avoid having people go to drug dealers to get pot, which makes it no longer a "gateway drug," if it ever actually was
-we greatly reduce the amount of gangsterism, which happens to be destroying Mexico, in case you didn't notice

Fwiw, I don't smoke pot, or even eat it in brownies, but there's no good reason not to let any adult who wants to do it.

There are lots of other propositions, some good, some bad. Someone asked me the other day if I was in favor of Prop 21, the state parks tax on vehicles. It has its problems but the parks need the money so bad I have to vote for it.

On another election -related topic, I really wish I had started saving all of the fliers I've been getting in the mail related to this election. The Menlo Park City Council race alone could fill a large box, I'm sure. I would really enjoy weighing said box and taking it to a city council meeting and waggling my finger righteously at those knuckleheads for sending x-number of pounds of dead trees to every single household in town. Next time.

Top 5 Friday

My five most-hated MLB teams (in order):

5. The Dodgers. Just because I have lots of friends who are Giants fans.

4. The Yankees. They just win too much.

3. The Braves. Godspeed, Giants. I won't be watching the rest of the series because I can't handle those redneck fans and their tomahawk chop. And too much winning.

2. The Angels. Three words: Rally Monkey. Thundersticks (one word afaik)

1. The Cardinals. I'm pretty sure I don't need to explain this one.

Top 5 Friday!

Top Five Things you can do for me if you forgot to get me a birthday present (it was Sunday, silly!):

1. If you live in California, vote Yes on Prop 19 and tell three friends to do the same
2. Leave your car at home for one trip this week and bike or walk instead
3. Donate $50 (or more!) to Restore Hetch Hetchy
4. Bug me if you don't see a post here in more than a week
5. Use your turn signal for EVERY turn and EVERY lane change

Steal this post

I just read a blurb in a magazine about a book chronicling the myriad movements for secession throughout the US. It’s a topic I’m interested in (there are certain states we could really live without, aren’t here?) but the review was luke-warm on the execution. I know myself well enough to know that I won’t make it through a whole book on any topic if it isn’t well-written (case in point: this book about how in the world it was possible for the Cubs to go almost 100 years without winning the World Series -- a topic I am, or was *exTREMly* interested in -- that I couldn’t get finish because of mediocre writing and roughly one typo per page). If I ever write a book, it may not be the Great American Novel, but I’ll at least run spell check on it.

And yet, I feel compelled to write a book. I have this sense that I need to write a book. At some point. Maybe before I turn 40? I could do that, with both kids in school. But about what? And why?

Manic Monday!

Yes, I'm attempting to blog again.

I can not WAIT for the new recycling regime to start Jan 1. I don't know which I'm more excited about: the weekly pick-up, or the yard waste containers that will take COMPOST! No more throwing the food scraps into a pile in the side yard and waiting for it to disintegrate.

Prop 19 is ahead in the polls! Is it possible?? Common sense prevailing in the polling booth?

I am sick. I'm going to bed.