Tag: Information

Flouddite

Flouddite (floofinition) – An animal who refuses to adapt or change. Origins: early 19th century Floofland.

In Use: “Simon le Meow was such a flouddite that when the new dog came into the household, Simon would act like the dog wasn’t there and just go about his business, baffling the dog, who really just wanted to be friends.”

In Use: “Being a bonafide flouddite, Caramel wouldn’t eat from her bowls when they changed her eating set up, forcing Carol and Pat to put the bowls back where they had been.”

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Limitations

I limit what I share. That’s true in life and includes my blogging.

One, I’m a private individual. Two, I don’t want it to appear as if I don’t respect and appreciate that I have it pretty good. Three, I’m boring and lead a boring life. At the same time, I sometimes decide to share because I endure something in isolation, hunting information, coping and struggling. I suspect that I’m not alone.

So, Ima gonna talk about my feet and ankles. Yes, but this is actually about edema, sodium, and hypertension.

Hypertension has plagued me my entire life. Brief doctor checkups were required when I was a child in my early teens first trying out for an organized sport. The first time, the physician said two things: “You have high blood pressure, and your ears need cleaned.”

When I was in the military, physicians would regularly order me to go through a week of coming into the clinic, hospital, or infirmary daily to check my blood pressure every day. I never paid much attention to it. It was always kind of high and never changed.

I should have been paying attention. That’s on me and my overconfidence and ignorance.

My hypertension finally caught up with me and began manifesting as edema several years ago. I have Mom’s very slender ankles, ankles which my wife always envied. Now they’re puffy. Swollen. Discolored. Stiff.

My healthcare team isn’t quite sure what causes my edema, whether it’s actually my lymph nodes, or venous insufficiency. I don’t want to oversimplify; multiple factors influence it. I always figure venous insufficiency played a large part, but I’ve also discovered that my body doesn’t deal well with sodium. Sodium is used in cooking, baking, and food processing as flavoring and a binding agent and preservative. My body decided it can’t stand sodium. When my blood results come back, high sodium levels always stand out as critically high.

This all came to a huge issue for me when I sprained my right ankle, first in May, then again in June. Both times, I was just moving when — snap – crack — my right ankle gave out and I went down in a blaze of pain.

The second time this happened, I couldn’t believe how much my foot and ankle swelled. Suckers ballooned into huge sizes. Shoes would not fit, limiting my footwear and activities.

I’ve been on amlodipine for several years to help with my blood pressure. I’d quit taking it for reasons I couldn’t even quite define for myself. I don’t know what I was thinking, for real. I resumed the med in early June. But when I went in for my annual check with my PCP in late June, my BP was 169/89. That concerned her.

It concerned me as well. She urged me to track my BP for two weeks and report the results back to her. Take your blood pressure morning and evening every day, she said. If it stayed high, we would need to address my meds. I agreed.

The first week’s results were horrendous. My right foot and ankle were also regularly swollen during that period. So was my left ankle. All of this was depressing. After the first week, I stopped tracking my blood pressure for a day because I was so upset. I had to make changes.

I’d been watching my sodium levels since the edema began manifesting. Now I carried it to hyper-vigilant levels. High levels of sodium are in so many foods. Condiments like mayo and mustard were gone, along with any salad dressings, pickles, olives, etc. I mean, I’d already cut them substantially back but now they were completely verboten. I’d treat myself to bacon once in a while before; no more. The butter we use has sodium; it was cut off. Bread was cut out. Rolls. Cheese. Salsa. Guacamole. Many favorite foods were simply eliminated from my diet. Raw fruits and veggies, which I’d always eaten in regular quantities, were eaten more frequently. I also increased my water intake. I cut down on my coffee consumption, and whenever I go to the coffee shop, I order a glass of water with my coffee. Desserts and treats are off the table.

The results paid off. My two-week average when I turned in my records to my PCP was 134/79. I had several second week readings in the 120/70 range. I had one reading of 117/72, and another of 106/69. My right foot’s swelling subsided. My ankles’ swelling declined. Besides that, I lost six pounds and an inch off my waist. I became more limber and flexible and slept better.

What I sort of realized/hypothesized was that the edema and swelling which I saw in my feet and ankles were happening internally as well. As things reacted to more fluids and less sodium, that unseen swelling also diminished.

Anyway, that’s my story. If you’re out there dealing with hypertension, high blood pressure, and struggling with edema and sodium, you’re not alone. I feel for you. I hope you can make changes and that those changes result in improvements.

They did for at least for me. It’s not over, though. I remain on that strict, almost completely sodium-free diet. Sometimes, we need to face it, this is how it must be.

And that’s how it is.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: chillax

Today is Thursday, July 25, 2024. Still a little time to get your early Christmas shopping done.

It’s been a noisy morning in my Ashlandia. A parade of sounds. Garbage trucks banging on and roaring down the street. Motorcycles. Barking dogs, overhead jets, loud talking people. There may have been a marching band as well. Couldn’t tell for the noise. A jackhammer capped the performance.

Then Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), my black and white thick-furred floofhead, settled on my pillow above my head and vigorously groomed himself, sometimes leaning on my skull to prop himself up in his washing process. Hello!

Of course, the noise can all be explained in rational ways, especially when you set them against the situation. Iit’s a chill morning. Up to sixty now as the sun breaks over the mountains and trees overseeing my home site. Things must be done before the heat arrives. Also, the air quality is very breathable, better than it’s been in days. Better want to get things done before the air goes bad and the day heats up. And the passing jet could well have been a fire-fighting tanker. Not sure why the marching band was out there.

But come on, if this is what I have to complain about, the noise of life and a cat’s activity, I don’t have it bad at all. Massive fires still rage in all compass directions. Pity the animals and people chased out of their homes and habitats who face the task of rebuilding and finding new homes. And thanks to all those individuals at every level, tracking fires, managing and fighting them, and keeping us updated on what’s happening. Imagine what it would be like without them.

While it’ll be cool here today, just 86 F is the expected high, other regions are blazing away. the Copernicus Climate Change Service reports that the record set on July 21, 2024, for the hottest recorded temperture, was broken on July 22, 2024. Something to think about and keep you awake at night, isn’t it?

So WordPress has some AI magic to help me write better. It highlighted ‘may’ above, citing it as an ‘unconfident word’. The magic suggests I replace it with ‘been’, so the sentence would read, ‘There been a marching band as well.’ Yeah, that sounds more confident, although, perhaps, a little asinine as well.

Had a good time with friends sipping a few beers out in the shade and wind of a local brewery. Moderate turn out of ten. Progressives all, we were jazzed by the energy and optimism the Kamala Harris campaign is generating. We also noted the GOP’s lame and increasingly desperate attempts to undermine the Harris campaign. The GOP is running scared. Other than that, we discussed dark oxygen being generated at deep sea levels, along with airships, you know, derigibles. I think it was unanimous that we’d all like to experience traveling like that, as long as you’re not in a rush.

I’m chillin’ with a cuppa coffee in hand, and cool fresh air wafting in through the window behind me. The Neurons turn Frankie Goes to Hollywood loose in the morning mental music stream (Trademark televised) with “Relax” from 1983. That’s the theme song for the moment.

Stay positive and remain fresh and strong. I’m trying to do the same. Let’s Vote Blue in 2024, and bring the United States its first female in the White House as POTUS. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Russian Military Dream

I had a cavalcade of dreams last night. One stood out more strongly than the rest. I was in the military for over twenty years. Not infrequently, I find myself in the military again in dreams. It was so again last night.

In this one, I’d been selected for a new position. I was an E7 master sergeant, which is what I retired as. My predecessor, training me, was an E9 chief master sergeant. He was telling me that this position was a catapult to promotion if I do it right, and he thought I’d do it right. Hearing all that pleased me.

Then he gave me a black attaché case. “You’ll always be carrying this,” he said. “You are now the Russian nuke guy. That’s what everyone will start calling you.”

I’d had some idea of what I’d be stepping into even though it’d been a pretty close-hold process. They’d checked my security clearance and records, noted that I’d been on the Personnel Reliability Program because I’d controlled nukes. My top-secret clearance with all the tags of SI, SCI, TK and TQ that came with being associated with a covert intelligence program pleased them, too. Now I got why.

The Chief was explaining that I would be regularly briefed about anything and everything associated with Russia’s nuclear weapons. Locations, capabilities, changes, updates, whatever. Everything from personnel, process, and equipment. I’d be told everything, constantly. The idea was that I would be the national command authority’s primary go-to if any questions about Russia’s nukes came up.

Then he began taking me around offices, introducing me as ‘the new Russian nuke guy’, explaining that I was replacing him. Everyone shook my hand and welcomed me.

The dream ended while I was still in that process.

I have no idea what it all means but I found it weirdly reassuring, because I’d been selected. I was needed. That kind of thing feels validating, you know?

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

A young middle-aged woman is at a table with a middle middle-aged man. That’s how they appear to be experienced but amateur eye. Both are attractive. She’s in light grey yoga pants and he’s in khaki hiking shorts. He’s tall, with graying curly hair, while her brunette hair sweeps away from her face and lightly lands on her shoulders. The two are so average white people of the Pacific Northwest. I notice them in the same way as I note others in the coffee shop.

But then, what makes her memorable, after they disposed of their coffee cups at the busing station, she methodically moves through the coffee shop, straightening up the chairs. He goes over and stands by the door, waiting for her to finish. She joins him and they depart, leaving the tidy tables and chairs behind.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: digitized

Get up and look out windows, judging the air’s color. Doesn’t look too bad. Some tinges of smok. A window is cracked opened. The sniff test is employed. Doesn’t smell too bad. The air feels cold.

I go on out into the living area and office, interrogate Alexa and checking my weather station, and then go online and check weather and air quality. It’s 64, and the AQI is in the sixties, not too bad. Doors and windows are opened and complaining floofs are released.

It’s Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Today’s high will be 96 F, so we’re not too bad. It’s the triple digit stuff that really gets to you.

My wife departs to meet some friends at the Growers Market. Yeah, they don’t use an apostrophe. Sirens erupt. Systems are checked to see, where are they going? What’s going on? I printed out the evacuation checklist yesterday. You know, just in guess. It’s sitting here beside me. We always have basic bags ready but maybe we should prepare the whole shebang. Just in case. It’s hot and dry here. Lightning can strike and ignite something without warning. Something to consider.

Out in the news world, it’s no surprise that the Secret Service Director resigned. They were being hounded and the GOP was openly, sharply hostile. That’s their style.

A headline says, “World registers hottest day ever recorded on July 21”. Wasn’t that hot here in Ashlandia. We seem to be contrarians. The article goes on, “Last year saw four days in a row break the record, from July 3 through July 6, as climate change, driven by the burning of fossil fuels, drove extreme heat across the Northern Hemisphere.

Every month since June 2023 – 13 months in a row – has now ranked as the planet’s hottest since records began, compared with the corresponding month in previous years, Copernicus said.

Some scientists have suggested 2024 could outrank 2023 as the hottest year since records began, as climate change and the El Nino natural weather phenomenon — which ended in April — have pushed temperatures ever higher this year. 

I imagine Republicans pooh-poohing the news and laughing. In this visual, it’s my staunch BIL MAGAt representing them. “It’s the weather,” he says loudly, shrugging, gesturing with his hands. “It’s always changing. It gets hot, it gets cold, big deal. You liberals.”

Yeah, we liberals are worrying about nothing except the increase in record temperatures — high and lows — and the acceleration of extreme weather. We’re worried about increased flooding and wildfires turning the air dark with smoke. We’re worried about increasing extended droughts and melting glaciers.

Tsk. So silly of us.

The music occupying my morning mental music stream (Trademark iffy) owes its presence to my wife. She was online, surfing. “Oh, I like that,” she says.

I do my spousal duty. “What is it?”

“This tee shirt. It says, I am woman, watch me vote.”

“Yes, that’s good.”

The Neurons pounced. I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore, begins. “I Am Woman”. Helen Reddy. 1971. As I often do with celebrities I haven’t heard or seen in a while, I verify her life status. Died in 2020, 78 years old. No cause of death given.

This is life in the digital age.

The song took on its own life as a anthem of female empowerment back in that last century, when the U.S. was becoming a more progressive nation. I was present at a rally in Caifornia when the female protestors spontaneously sang it A capella. Powerful moment down on Market Street in SF.

The house is cool. Thermostat says it’s 76 F inside. Feels good. I go around closing windows, sealing in the cool air for the day.

Be strong, stay positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has endorsed my systems. I’m ready to rock. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Floofcipitate

Floofcipitate (floofinition) – Something happening abruptly that was triggered by an animal’s actions. Origins: early 21st century Internet.

In Use: “A loud ‘woof’ in the house’s soft stillness floofcipitated the cat leaping up, Pat knocking his glass of wine over, and Linn dropping her phone. Laughter followed.”

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Doggone Cute

I was walking past several parks today. People were out with their dogs, always in the shade, playing.

One shaggy-haired young man looked like he was in his mid-twenties. His canine companion looked old and out of shape. The guy lightly throw a Frisbee. The dog galloped after it. After twenty feet, the dog stopped and turned around, looking for the disc. It sailed over his head and landed four or five feet behind him.

“Behind you,” the man called to the dog. Turning around, the dog saw the Frisbee. Picking it up in his jaws, he trotted back, but stopped four feet away and settled down in green shade.

“Drink water,” the guy said.

The dog went to a water bowl and took a few sloppy laps. “Bring me the toy,” the man said.

Doing as told, the dog brought it over and put it on his man’s feet.

“Ready?” the man asked.

Watching him, the dog began jogging away. The Frisbee was launched. The dog ran out, stopped, and turned around as the Frisbee landed behind him.

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