I went to the doc today and was given more medication on top of the old medication and I'm having a pain flareup and blah blah and poop and if you guys hang in for another day or two you're gonna be getting some freaky-ass blog posts. (Hey. Maybe the freaky-ass blog posts start today!)
The hopefully last word on radiation is thus:
The husbeast is getting ready to retire and doing health checks and crap. For entertainment (knowing I'd been writing about radiation), he asked what his total radiation exposure is. See, whenever he's down a hole on a submarine or whatever, he wears a little pencil-shaped sensor called a TLD (stands for Thermo-Luminescent Doohicky, I think) that monitors his level of radiation exposure. So he got the total for all the radiation he's been exposed to while working on ships for the entire twenty years he has been in the Navy. Know how much? It's less than he got in a month of riding around in jet boats in Pearl Harbor when he was at his last command. (He rode around in jet boats for four years, meaning he was exposed to about, um, forty-eight times more radiation fooling around outside in normal conditions than he was in submarines.)
Yes. You read that right: Twenty years of radiation exposure from working on nuclear submarines is LESS than a month of sunny days in the tropics.
Believe me now when I say it's all relative? And to quit the sunbathing already?
Have been spinning way too much, and my finger - the finger that the fiber goes over - has gotten raw. I'm not sure if it's really raw (no blood or anything), or if it's just some lovely symptom of this dumbass pain flareup (I get super-sensitive to pain; a papercut last night felt like I'd severed the tip of my finger). So I'm just gonna keep spinning until I see blood. Fuck the pain.
Ditto on the knitting; I'm working with cotton right now.
The Goober is still big into her Little People animals and yesterday I got to shout the fun statement, "HEY! Get this horse out of the dining room!"
The neighbors think we are either insane, or have small children. Or both. (I think it's both.)
Today she got out her alphabet of animals and told me what letters each one was. She knew about half. Not bad.
Thanks to everyone helping out with moving suggestions. The military will pay for one thousand pounds of stuff (packing and moving), and store it for one year. Anything OVER the thousand pounds, we pay for. They allow for 10% over, so 1100 pounds. When we moved out of Hawaii, I think the weight was 1107; they were nice and didn't charge for the seven pounds. But we are definitely maxed out.
Since then, I've gotten rid of about half my books, but we've acquired a washer, dryer, and refrigerator. We intend to rent a U Haul and take the husbeast's tool and spare part collection with us to NE Ohio (we obviously couldn't do that from Hawaii), as well as taking a few boxes of my books, the spinning wheel, knitting gear, and stash. With luck, that will take care of the weight. If not, well, I guess we pay.
I'm probably going to be ditching some furniture. Haha.
The husbeast put the engine he's been rebuilding into the truck yesterday. There was much rejoicing. I watched him sweating buckets in ninety degree heat (uh... 45 C? thereabouts?) with eighty percent humidity, and thought "You call this a hobby?" But it takes all kinds, so I kept my mouth shut. I'll stick to knitting in the air conditioning, though.