Das Boot and the Curious Case of the WTNs

My oh my does time fly when your bones are mineralizing. Only 1 more week left wearing Das Boot, otherwise known as my air cast. I call it Das Boot because, well, whomever invented it must be a Nazi. And, while I recognize the helpful nature of its immobilizing properties, one cannot deny this molded plastic, foam and velcro'ed apparatus is truly an implement of torture. It really is. But, alas, soon we will part ways and I will not shed a single tear.

Last night I was wondering how it will feel to finally be walking on my two feet again without the assistance of my boot. Will I be able to put weight on my foot? Will my ankle swell up? Will it hurt? Will I need to use my crutches again? Right now I am all 'wait and see,' but am a tad nervous. Upon my doctor's advice, I've started to do some easy stretches. Flexing and pointing my foot and attempting to rotate my ankle has not been easy. The muscles are incredibly stiff. Luckily, I have my new found friends in the Facebook 'Broken Ankle' group to help me through. Apparently, there is a Facebook group for everything including bone fractures.

On a somewhat related note . . . . I'm contemplating starting my own Facebook group for people who really dislike their neighbors and would prefer to rant in a passive aggressive manner to their spouse and blog readers versus actually confronting the situation head on and doing something about it. Might need to work on the group name, but you get the gist of it, no? You see, I have a WTN situation otherwise known as the curious case of the white trash neighbors. They are a younger couple -- maybe late 20's -- who moved into our townhome complex about 4 months ago. At first, everything seemed great. They were nice enough -- waved hello when coming and going, smiled on occasion, did not wield pitchforks or axes, etc. They have a dog so there were a few moments when we would make casual chit chat while passing each other as we took our dogs out for a walk. No issues. Everything was fine.

Then winter hit and my annoyance level grew. First it was the dog situation. For some reason, the WTNs (aka white trash neighbors) like to stake their dog out in the front yard for stretches of time rather than take her for a walk or stand out there with her while she does her business. Now, I will admit that I've used a stake and lead with Ozy a few times in the summer months when it was really nice out and he was just dying to hang in the sunshine. But in the sub-zero dead of winter with snow piled a mile high? No way. I'd drive by and see this poor dog sitting outside shivering. Sad. It kinda reminds me of the old junkyard dog who's plight in life is to stand guard over trash. To compound this troubling scene, the WTNs don't clean up after said dog. Instead, poop piles dot the landscape of their front yard, which just happens to be connected to my front yard. It is disgusting. Seriously, poop clumps are everywhere. And, in case you wanted to get the full visual of junkyard, the WTN dude drives this old, rusted out white pick-up which is always sitting in their driveway. Now, far be it from me to criticize someone's choice in automobiles. Of course, not everyone can drive a nice car. I get it. BUT, this thing is about 2 seconds away from the junk heap. He fires it up in the morning and the rust bucket practically backfires. Can you say car up on blocks? Can you say eye sore? Yep it is.

So, you get the drift. Am I being too harsh and critical? Should I just live and let live? They make their choices and I make mine, right? Just as I was beginning to feel a little mean, the other night Mr. Oz and I were hanging out just watching a movie in the comfort of our living room when we hear this booming bass pumping. Heavy metal music blaring and literally vibrating the walls. The WTNs must have been having a party. I can appreciate wanting to let loose on the weekend, but the decibles were outta this world annoying. Ugh.

So, I ask you, dear blog readers, what is to be done? Do we suffer in silence and continue to pour out anger on the interwebs? Should we reach out to the townhome association and file a complaint regarding the dog turd situation and, perhaps, the noise if it continues to be a pattern? Do we just look for an opportunity to talk directly to the neighbors (and by "we" I mean Mr. Oz)? Or, better yet, maybe we should just pull up stakes and move?

Help, I need advice.

My Amigo

Broke my ankle last weekend. I blame winter and her frozen sheets of death covering the ground and choking all forms of life. I am really thankful there was no one with a video camera around when I went down. I shudder thinking about the possible visual replay of my fall all flailing and bouncing, twisting and shouting. Broken bones suck. They really do. First there is shooting hot pain, then swelling, then comes more throbbing pain. X-rays, storm trooper boots, crutches, bruising, more pain and imprisonment in your house for days on end are just some of the fun things one can experience after a broken ankle. But, such is life on the tundra of upper Midwest ice age-ville.

Since I have what my orthopedist calls a "middle of the road" fracture, I must keep my foot fairly immobile over the next couple of weeks in order to avoid surgery. Apparently, the rest of my ankle and foot look o.k. so if the break starts to heal and nothing shifts out of alignment, I'm good to go. This past week I've been confined mostly to my bed and couch. Due to the conveniences of modern technology, I've been able to work from home. Due to the wonder of modern pharmacology, my pain has been relatively dulled. Have you hugged your pharmacist today? You really should.

While I've been trying to stay positive, I have to admit a few moments of craptacular annoyance and depression have befallen me. I really can't complain as it could have been SO much worse. However, now and again, I lament my immobile situation. I get antsy just being at home and laying around doing nothing. There's the whole ordeal of taking a shower and going to the bathroom. Not being able to easily access things, get myself a glass of water, take my dog outside, etc. Bums me out. After 6 straight days trapped inside, I finally got to leave my house today. Mr. Oz patiently helped me into the car and took me to the mall. He ran in and procured one of these bad boys:


Yep, that's what the old folks call The Amigo! You too could use one of these if you should happen to become incapacitated or otherwise crippled. You just need to hand over your license and away you go just scooting about the shopping center. It doesn't go too fast, but there's really no need to play Indy 500 with The Amigo. She might not have power, but the tight turning radius can't be beat . . . able to cut through tight store aisles and round displays like crazy. And check out that handy basket. Sweet, no?

Seriously, it was nice to not have to crutch my way around. If that was my only option, there's no way I would have been able to go out. But I felt like an idiot. I mean, this electric scooter business is for senior citizens, right? What am I, 90? I got over it, but still.

First stop . . . GNC for a big bottle of calcium pills w/ Vitamin D. Momma needs to build some bone bridges y'all. I figure if I pop a couple of those calcium nuggets everyday, I'll be right as rain in no time. Second stop, Barnes & Noble for some magazines to occupy my time whilst I lay in bed and moan. Third stop, coffee shop. Latte = milk = calcium = bone building goodness!

At the end of my mall visit, I was almost sad to part ways with The Amigo. We had grown tight. My prowess at the wheel was bordering on mastery. Amigo, you truly became my friend. I'm sure I will see you again soon. But, not too soon.

Fallen Heroes

Have you heard about baseball home run record holder, Mark McGwire? Well, it appears Mark fueled his power hits with some muscle enhancing juice (i.e. steroids) and he has finally admitted to cheating. In his announcement, McGwire was all sadness and regret. A few tears may have leaked their way out as he spoke of the difficulty in coming forward and sharing the regrettable news with his family and friends. In the same breathe, McGwire seemed to back peddle a bit as he tried to convince us that he was a proven home run hitter in his high school, college and minor league years -- pre roids presumably. He would have us believe that the performance enhancing drugs were not a factor in his stellar at bat performance. What?! Sorry, I ain't buying it. And then there is Tiger Woods. I won't even get into that whole situation.

Sports are not necessarily my thing. I'm not what you would call a baseball fan. I am familiar with the game and appreciate the history, it's slower pace and reliance on the strange combination of power, patience and precision. Baseball includes a great deal of tradition and pride. McGwire, like so many other recent players, has diminished the legacy of baseball as America's favorite past time. Beyond this, what I'm really disturbed by is the loss of heroes. Listening to the radio this morning and hearing the news of McGwire's fall from grace, I thought of the little kids who may have once admired the player. Perhaps they are older now -- teens or young adults. Maybe they wore his jersey, collected his baseball cards, idolized McGwire for his amazing feats on the field. To many, he was a hero . . . someone to emulate and look up to. He represented possibility, effort and hope. Not anymore. Same goes for Tiger. Turns out he's just a guy who had a cocktail waitress in every city.

Who are our heroes today? Do we even have any? Are heroes the stuff of Greek mythology and science fiction? Is it wrong to impart such high expectations onto a mere human? Is this too much of a burden to place on one individual? And, why does the fall of yet one more "hero" trouble me so greatly? I think we all need role models, people to look up to and pattern ourselves after, gold standards to measure ourselves against. It is in the light of comparison to these admirable examples that we are able to identify our own shortcomings, seek to make improvements and become better people. When we have no one to emulate, how low does our own bar drop?

Now, I'm not suggesting that we don't have great people walking among us each and everyday. We do. Beloved family, loyal friends, trusted colleagues, volunteers, kind neighbors are all around us. These people are heroes in their own right. Perhaps we need to talk more about these behind-the-scenes heroes, focus on the everyday and little acts of beauty in the world all around us. Stop focusing on these mega-stars and sports gods. They only seem to disappoint us in the end. And I, for one, am sick and tired of being continually disappointed.

Cooking Up A Batch of 'Hell Yes'

Happy Holidays everyone!

I hope each of you had a joyous Christmas and/or Hanukkah celebrating with loved ones. Part I of my holiday concluded with some hang time with the in-laws and all the sibs, nieces and nephews from the Oz side of the equation. We also enjoyed digging out of snowstorm madness '09 which left a ton of that frozen white water outside our door. It's mighty cold out there and each time I leave the house to take the dog out for a potty break, I visualize flipping head over heels on the ice rink that has newly formed in my driveway. Guess I need to go buy some skates and practice my triple sow cow. Olympics here I come! Or, perhaps the much more likely scenario is broken bones, me in the hospital, laid up in traction. Sigh. Sorry, no blind holiday optimism. Here you will only find stark, dark pessimism. Cheers!!

Part Deux of the festivus for the rest of us will be kicking off in North Dakota. Mr. Oz and I are headed to my parents tomorrow for a 3 night visit. All the clan will gather to ring in the New Year and open up the gifts that Santa couldn't quite deliver on Christmas Eve cuz he was stuck in a snowbank. For some reason, I felt the need to volunteer my cooking prowess (and I use this word sarcastically). I will be making the New Year's Eve feast. In preparation, I've been scouring my cookbooks, online recipe sources and hitting up my foodie friends for suggestions. After much hemming and hawing, I finally landed on my menu -- a four course extraveganza. BTW, what is the deal with the phrase "hemming and hawing?" What does it really mean anyway? I just typed it and had to stop and consider, for a moment, the origin of this phrase. What does it mean to "haw?" Is it like sawing but only with your mind? I need to do some research on that one. But I digress.

Back to the holiday feast . . . I decided to take it up a notch, an extra step if you will, and add in wine pairings. What has gotten in to me? I know, crazy. We will be starting with a lovely salad comprised of roasted butternut squash, endive, apple and blue cheese. Next course will be a french onion soup gratin. Third course is an herb crusted beef tenderloin with port sauce. I'll be making some sort of potato & vegetable side to accompany the beef. We will end with a chocolate mousse cheesecake. Much like the contestents on Top Chef, I don't consider desserts my forte so I will be picking up this cheesecake at the place that knows what they are doing. The Cheesecake Factory, of course. Wine pairings include a light & crips Savignon Blanc to start, a fairly robust Pinot Noir to go with the beef and then a Saracco Moscato 'd Asti with dessert. Sadly, the soup will have to share it's wine pairing with the salad. Poor soup. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride.

All this menu planning has gotten me in a cooking mood. The last few days, I've been trying out all sorts of things. My experimentation is appreciated by Mr. Oz as he gets to eat all of my trials. I'm not so sure he like all the dirty dishes, however. Did I mention Mr. Oz does the dishes? Tonight is roasted potato leek soup from the Barefoot Contessa's Back to Basics cookbook. Nothing beats a warm, creamy soup on a cold winter night.

I'll report the success or failure of my feast in my next post.

Until then, Happy New Year!!

Holiday Shopping

Hi, my name is Lisa and I am addicted to online x-mas shopping.

Over the past few weeks, holiday purchasing online has been among my greatest joy and pleasure. True.

While some may say this form of shopping is impersonal, isolating and does not allow the shopper to fully experience the seasonal sights, sounds and smells (think evergreen trees and baked goods versus sweaty Mall Santas), I counter online shopping is incredibly convenient. Yep, convenience trumps all. Here is my general overview of "traditional" holiday shopping: Slogging through snowbanks and braving the icy cold only to spend countless minutes circling crowded parking lots looking for an open spot. Throwing elbows scrounging for the best deal . . . limited choices because stores only want to keep the best selling items in stock . . . after hours of hunting and searching, pure frustration sets in . . . solution = various gift cards.

Now, let's compare this old way with the evolution of holiday behavior: Comfy, cozy in flannel pajamas . . . relaxing with laptop on the couch with a fire roaring . . . . Amazon.com wishlist searches, researching the perfect gift by entering in facts and personality traits of your gift recipients, personalized & fun gift ideas, free shipping (hooray!!). No need to leave the house, saving money on gas and reaping the benefit of hours I can spend doing other fun stuff like baking cookies, drinking martinis or watching Glee (double hooray!!!). Seriously. Why would anyone choose to purchase their gifts any other way?

Plus, how great is it to come home from work each day to a bounty of packages on one's doorstep?

Here are just a smattering of gift ideas that I may, or may not, have purchased online this season: Who doesn't appreciate a toasty, warm towel when exiting the shower? This is the perfect baby gift when the parents are Sci-Fi, Star Wars geeks!

Hello! Cheese of the month club!! Tasty.

I Recall Central Park In Fall

New York is a fun place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Spending a long weekend in the hustle & bustle of Manhattan leaves me exhilarated and exhausted all at the same time. No matter how often I go, I can never quite get over the pace, throngs of people, constant assault of sounds and smells. There is a frenetic rhythm to the city. A hum. I'm drawn into it like a moth to an incandescent light bulb, but my introverted nature screams for quiet. The idyllic setting of Central Park exists in the in-between. On its outer edges, the city spins and spits. Inside the insulated protection of the park, calm takes over. People seem softer, happier, lighter. Outside the Park is all business and motion. Inside, it melts away under an insulated cocoon of flora and fauna. The trees keep the madness at bay.




Fall is the absolutely best time to see the Park. It might arguably be the best time to visit NYC. Great walking around town weather. SOHO shopping, West Village stroll. Fine dining, the perfect bagel to start the day, a lusciously long pour of Prosecco to cap off the night. Subway rides. Scouring Canal Street for the best deals. Cocktails made the old-fashioned way. Trying to hail the Cash Cab and win big. Chelsea Market. Walking the Highline. Soaking in the ambiance and history. Gramercy Park desserts. The Natural History Museum. Coffee shops. And, of course, Central Park in Fall.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

I admit to having a small problem . . . a slight obsessive, compulsive disorder whereby I startle at odd moments gripped by the fear that I have left a hot iron plugged in at home or the front door unlocked or accidentally forgot to put on my antiperspirant after showering. I've had these strange attacks at random. Once I had nearly completed the 25 minute drive to work when I was overcome by the sense that I had not closed the garage door upon exiting. I debated for a couple of minutes on whether or not to go back home. Finally, faced with the knowing assurance that I would wrestle with hopeless uncertainty all day, I drove back home only to find the garage sealed off tighter than drum.

What is this all about? Why do I have these compulsions? Is it normal? Am I normal?

An off shoot of the issue describe above is my frightening habit of occasionally "zoning out" when driving. Entranced in some daydream, pondering a nebulous situation at work or simply drifting into the lyrics of a song playing on the radio, I sink into my own head and drive completely on auto pilot. Now, mind you, I am awake. My eyes are open. I am functioning at the wheel. But, I go so far into my own thoughts that one quick alteration in my visual field or a sound can snap me back into a jarred state. In that split second, my fight or flight response system kicks in and over-rides my conscious, rationale, logical mind. In this momentary panic, I've been known to jump medians and perform u-turns thinking that I was inadvertently driving the wrong way on a freeway off-ramp. Seriously. I've done this. And, it scared me so bad I nearly crapped my pants.

Again, I ask, is this totally and utterly insane? Have others out there experienced this strange phenomenon of being totally awake and performing tasks but, somehow, not being fully present. Is it lack of sleep? Stress? Old age? Am I in the early stages of dementia?

OK, so just to set everyone's mind at ease for fear that I may be a danger to you and your loved ones on the road. I'm 99% fine. I've only experienced this strange moments a couple of times and I've been able to control my little urges to change 3 lanes of traffic, jump police squad cars and run red lights. It's not quite as disastrous as you might believe it to be. But, it does make me wonder what causes this behavior. My husband says I'm "in my head" too much and I need to focus. But, I like my head. My head is a happy and productive place to be. Well, most of the time it is.

And I bet when you started reading this post you thought I was going to blog about my dog again. Ozy is my OTHER obsessive, compulsive habit.