One week.

That's a new record for breaks in blogging, I think. I don't remember going this long between posts since I started this thing (though some of my blog posts were filler and sucked; this I do not deny). Then again, I've never done a major move since I started this blog, so there we go.

The past week has been spent organizing, hauling boxes, unpacking, repacking, you name it. We've still got a ways to go, but things are looking a lot better. Mostly I know where stuff is, now. I finally managed to get some spinning done (I've been knitting in the car, so that's looking good), and I may be setting up a makeshift dye studio this week. I owe someone a custom order and it's been so long I think I'm going to give it to her for free.

Otherwise, I'm trying to get life back to almost where it was. Mostly quiet, with a little more 'out'. Trips to the Y to exercise, and more social stuff now that the husbeast is not a snarling ursine. But mostly, I wanna nap, and do fiber stuff. It makes my nervous system happy.

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(This one's for Alwen, fellow perogi maker.)

While our house was being packed, we chatted a good bit with some of the movers, especially the guy in charge of the crew. He said something about the south not agreeing with us and how we were moving back north, and while the husbeast and I consider ourselves more Hawaiian than Yankee these days, we didn't argue.

So the guy is packing my kitchen, and he's going through the utensils, and he pulls out a big circular cutter about three inches across, and he grins at me and says "see, you been making biscuits, the south has gotten to you." I sort of shuffled my feet and finally said "actually, I use that to make perogis." He stared for a minute, started laughing, and told me I needed to get north.

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I include the following two bits for those interested. If you're not, don't worry about it. I will not be giving a test later.

For those of you who were keeping up with the raving (mostly on Twitter) about my insurance company and my medication, they officially, absolutely, without argument, will NOT be paying for the anti-inflammatory I was trying to get. (It's a buck a pill and I'd need five or six a day, or I'd just buy the damn things myself.) It took a bleeding week and a clerk from my doctor's office to harass the answer out of them, but they finally said the policy is, Toradol is for acute injuries only and doesn't work on chronic conditions, therefore I did not need to take it every day. Therefore they would not pay for it every day. (Funny, I've got a chronic condition and it was working...)

I would follow up on this, but Humana, the company who does military insurance for the southern states, sucks so badly that they've been fired. Or rather, the government has not renewed their contract. (Article here.) Their stock price is shaky, they're talking about laying off employees, and I figured any complaint I filed at this point would be totally redundant and a waste of my time. So, fuck 'em. I'm out of their zone of hell now, anyway. Fuckers.

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The steroid shots in my neck seem to have worked, yet not. Apparently they aren't going to be a miracle cure. (Isn't that always the way?) I don't think they're doing much for actual pain control, but they're fixing a whole lot of weird nerve damage stuff. My hands are the same temperature for the first time in years (usually there's a three or four degree difference because my nervous system is trying to shut down blood to my 'injured' hand); this probably means less osteoporosis, lower blood pressure, and fewer skin and nail problems. I can stand having air blow on my hand; it still bothers me, but it's not a shrieking situation like it was. Best of all, it has made my nerves go away. For a long time I've actually felt the nerves under my skin, like wires (I could trace them with a pen and totally freak the specialists), and even with all the heavy lifting and overdoing, that's gone away.

Bottom line? If I ever find another doctor as good as Doctor N, I'll have it done again as needed. But I'm still not gonna let just anyone stick needles in my spine (probably a good rule of thumb for all of us).

While on my way out of town in Charleston, I stopped at Doctor N's office to pick up my treatment notes, so any new guy would be able to start from where we left off. Well, the clerks were having trouble finding the notes, and I told them to look up exactly what nerve the doc had dosed the day before, and I'd just get it tattooed on my shoulder blade, maybe with an arrow and some flowers. The clerks (one of whom had a tongue stud) both laughed, and I heard Doctor N burst out laughing; he was around the corner out of sight, but heard the tattoo comment.

I got the notes, so I guess no tattoo. At least not on my shoulder blade, about spinal nerves.

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Today's excitement? Perhaps another blog post, about taxonomy, or books, or art vs. craft, or Ohio history. Play some Civ, pet my cat, read, knit, spin. Make my kid clean the living room. Unpack another box.

Hope y'all have a good Wednesday.