Now that Game of Thrones is over, I am looking for my next binge obsession. Of shows that are currently running, I have three that could possibly be contenders.
The first choice is Outlander, a story that begins in post World War II Scotland and goes, well, many places in the ensuing four seasons. Based on the novels of Diana Gabaldon, the story involves a nurse, Claire, who visits Craigh na Dun, a stone circle, with her history professor husband. There they witness an autumnal ritual of local women dancing to honor the stones. Claire returns to the stones the next day to retrieve an item she dropped. She hears a buzzing or humming among the stones, and touching one obelisk, is transported back to the same location in 1743. There she is taken in by the MacKenzie clan and marries a young heir to the clan, Jamie Fraser. Over the show's four seasons, Claire and Jamie's love faces many challenges, most notably from a twisted English army officer, an ancestor and a dead image of Claire's 20th-century husband. Time travel takes Jamie and Claire to different places and times throughout the four seasons. When season four concluded, the Frasers were pioneers in colonial North Carolina.
This series is a time-travel fantasy and includes many political intrigues, but it is not the same level of fantasy and politics as Game of Thrones. The events of Outlander parallel the histories of Scotland, England, and the United States, while the political intrigues of GOT are an amalgamation of many historical incidents and the producers', writers' and author's imagination. While Game of Thrones has been called out for gratuitous nudity and sex, the numerous sex scenes in Outlander is not without context, But, to be honest, by season four, the Claire and Jamie's romantic encounters did feel a lot like any Nora Roberts novel.
There are clearly main characters in Outlander, whereas in Game of Thrones many could have contended for main character status. Also, in Outlander, the characters are fairly placed in good guy-bad guy camps. There is no nuance.
That being said, I can recommend Outlander as a GOT light, with a heavy lean toward chick flick. I am looking forward to the season five premiere on February 16, 2020, on Starz Network.
Conditions of an average life in an above average neighborhood.
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Friday, November 1, 2019
November is My Favorite Month
November is my favorite month for many reasons. First, it is my birthday month. Second, November is often punctuated by school holidays. This year, school will be out November 11 and November 21-29, assuming we don't have any snow days before then. But finally, it is the month of Thanksgiving, which as always been my favorite holiday.
A couple of years ago, folks of Facebook posted something they were thankful for each day of the month. I really enjoyed that. We all have so much that we are thankful for, but we seldom take time to verbalize our thanks. The tradition died away after some people basically called out people who posted each day, diminishing their sentiments as silly or annoying. On the contrary, I think it is a great tradition that we should resurrect.
I am most thankful that my health is improving. About six years ago, a tsunami of events collided to wreck my health. I was overworked, working my full-time job as a school librarian and as many as six additional part-time jobs, not so much for the money but for the opportunities the provided. I was the sole person to take my mom and brother to their doctors' appointments and the one who looked after them during hospitalizations. I thought I was handling all this exceptionally well, but apparently, I was wearing myself down.
Beginning in the summer of 2015, the strain was showing. I was a nervous wreck most days, and physical effects started to appear. My mother was placed in a nursing home following a bout of sepsis, and she hated it. She would call me several times a day to complain about her situation. These calls even came when I was at the beach with my family. I pretty much had a little breakdown and a good cry. I all seemed so hopeless.
Soon my brother's health declined. He had a toe amputation that was healing very well, but he overcompensated when walking and broke two bones in the other foot. Being a diabetic, he did not feel any pain until sepsis set in.
Long story short, this was the start of a final decline for both of them, but for my brother, we did not recognize the symptoms. My body responded to all of this with my own minor illnesses, treated by courses of antibiotics about every six weeks. The day my mother died in November I went to the clinic and asked for enough prednisone and antibiotics to get me through the funeral. I was prescribed the steroids, Levaquin and cough syrup. My health improved for about two weeks, and then I was back in the clinic for a double dose of Levaquin.
I repeated this process from December through February. The antibiotics I had taken had not killed whatever bug I had.
On February 17, my brother died. I was devastated. All the strength I had was disappeared.
I muddled through the rest of February and most of March. One day in late March I came home from school and decided to take a nap before dinner. I woke up four hours later with a 104-degree fever. Sepsis. I remember laying in the hospital bed watching a bright red climb up my leg. I knew that all the antibiotics I had taken had rendered me immune to much of their benefits.
I was released from the hospital eight days later. I was homebound for about six weeks, weak and sleeping a good bit of the time. When I returned to work my friends Venus and Rhonda helped me. I could not lift a tote of books, and shelving took about all I had. I had joint and muscle pain and extreme fatigue. I lost some of my hair. I was a hot mess.
Compared to others who had sepsis, I had it easy. Still, it took me almost two years to get my strength back.
This brings me to my offering of thanks. My sepsis was caught early and possibly was not at the severe stage. It's been a long two years, but the phantom pain and exhaustion are gone. I feel like I can actually do some yard work and maybe take a walk on the trail.
The mortality rate for severe sepsis is 25 to 30 percent. Knowledge is the key to stopping it early. My goal is to make sure as many people as possible know the warning signs and speak up if a loved one has any symptoms. See the graphic to learn the signs and save someone's life.
I am most thankful that my health is improving. About six years ago, a tsunami of events collided to wreck my health. I was overworked, working my full-time job as a school librarian and as many as six additional part-time jobs, not so much for the money but for the opportunities the provided. I was the sole person to take my mom and brother to their doctors' appointments and the one who looked after them during hospitalizations. I thought I was handling all this exceptionally well, but apparently, I was wearing myself down.
Beginning in the summer of 2015, the strain was showing. I was a nervous wreck most days, and physical effects started to appear. My mother was placed in a nursing home following a bout of sepsis, and she hated it. She would call me several times a day to complain about her situation. These calls even came when I was at the beach with my family. I pretty much had a little breakdown and a good cry. I all seemed so hopeless.
Soon my brother's health declined. He had a toe amputation that was healing very well, but he overcompensated when walking and broke two bones in the other foot. Being a diabetic, he did not feel any pain until sepsis set in.
Long story short, this was the start of a final decline for both of them, but for my brother, we did not recognize the symptoms. My body responded to all of this with my own minor illnesses, treated by courses of antibiotics about every six weeks. The day my mother died in November I went to the clinic and asked for enough prednisone and antibiotics to get me through the funeral. I was prescribed the steroids, Levaquin and cough syrup. My health improved for about two weeks, and then I was back in the clinic for a double dose of Levaquin.
I repeated this process from December through February. The antibiotics I had taken had not killed whatever bug I had.
On February 17, my brother died. I was devastated. All the strength I had was disappeared.
I muddled through the rest of February and most of March. One day in late March I came home from school and decided to take a nap before dinner. I woke up four hours later with a 104-degree fever. Sepsis. I remember laying in the hospital bed watching a bright red climb up my leg. I knew that all the antibiotics I had taken had rendered me immune to much of their benefits.
I was released from the hospital eight days later. I was homebound for about six weeks, weak and sleeping a good bit of the time. When I returned to work my friends Venus and Rhonda helped me. I could not lift a tote of books, and shelving took about all I had. I had joint and muscle pain and extreme fatigue. I lost some of my hair. I was a hot mess.
Compared to others who had sepsis, I had it easy. Still, it took me almost two years to get my strength back.
This brings me to my offering of thanks. My sepsis was caught early and possibly was not at the severe stage. It's been a long two years, but the phantom pain and exhaustion are gone. I feel like I can actually do some yard work and maybe take a walk on the trail.
The mortality rate for severe sepsis is 25 to 30 percent. Knowledge is the key to stopping it early. My goal is to make sure as many people as possible know the warning signs and speak up if a loved one has any symptoms. See the graphic to learn the signs and save someone's life.
Saturday, October 26, 2019
Halloween is a Big Deal in Eastgate
This Thursday children from outlying areas will join our neighborhood kids to walk the streets of Eastgate, dressed in all manner of attire from cute to creepy. Traditionally, more than 300 children trick-or-treat in our neighborhood. Parents from more rural areas drive their children here, as our neighbors have always welcomed all children, regardless of where they lived.
Starting about 20 years ago, law enforcement blocks automobile access to our neighborhood once trick-or-treating began. The idea was not to keep people out but to keep everyone safe. Given our troubling times, this assistance is doubly welcome.
I always look forward to seeing my children from Brookhaven Elementary. Some children know where I live and look forward to visiting my driveway to show me their costumes. Others are totally surprised by my presence. Each year I could count on some child screaming to his parents. "Look! It's my library teacher!" I can still remember the look on the face of the little boy who said, "I know you! You're the Book Fairy!"
Things have changed since I first participated in Eastgate's Halloween celebration 33 years ago. When my children were very little in the late 80s, my husband or I would walk around the neighborhood with our kids while the other stayed home to give out treats. Once the kids were eight or nine, they could trick-or-treat with their friends. It was that kind of neighborhood where everyone looked after everyone else. It still is.
Once my kids were older I started looking forward to seeing my schoolkids come by in their costumes. Some are shy, but some will boldly run down the driveway to give me a hug. I always worried about running out of candy before I had seen all my kids.
Of course, we always had visits from teenagers not ready to abandon this childhood ritual. Strangely, they never seemed to be the children who went through our school or lived in our neighborhood. I never questioned their presence but treated them as I did any of the little kids. There were a few, though, that left me speechless.
The first person was a sixteen-year-old girl that lived in our neighborhood. I didn't know her, but I had seen her around. She approached me and said the obligatory "Trick or treat!" I gave her a few pieces of candy. Then she held out another pillowcase and explained, "This is for my mother." Okay.
I did not know the second young lady, but she too had two bags, one for herself and one for her unborn baby. Seriously?
Now I am no longer the library teacher or the Book Fairy, but I still look forward to seeing the children have fun running amok. We don't see as many in the older sections of our neighborhood as we once did. Parents tend to gravitate to the newer sections of our neighborhood, which is where the majority of our children now live. Not too many of my immediate neighbors hand out candy anymore. I will buy the candy, and if I don't see as many children, it will be more for those who do!
Starting about 20 years ago, law enforcement blocks automobile access to our neighborhood once trick-or-treating began. The idea was not to keep people out but to keep everyone safe. Given our troubling times, this assistance is doubly welcome.
I always look forward to seeing my children from Brookhaven Elementary. Some children know where I live and look forward to visiting my driveway to show me their costumes. Others are totally surprised by my presence. Each year I could count on some child screaming to his parents. "Look! It's my library teacher!" I can still remember the look on the face of the little boy who said, "I know you! You're the Book Fairy!"
Things have changed since I first participated in Eastgate's Halloween celebration 33 years ago. When my children were very little in the late 80s, my husband or I would walk around the neighborhood with our kids while the other stayed home to give out treats. Once the kids were eight or nine, they could trick-or-treat with their friends. It was that kind of neighborhood where everyone looked after everyone else. It still is.
Once my kids were older I started looking forward to seeing my schoolkids come by in their costumes. Some are shy, but some will boldly run down the driveway to give me a hug. I always worried about running out of candy before I had seen all my kids.
Of course, we always had visits from teenagers not ready to abandon this childhood ritual. Strangely, they never seemed to be the children who went through our school or lived in our neighborhood. I never questioned their presence but treated them as I did any of the little kids. There were a few, though, that left me speechless.
The first person was a sixteen-year-old girl that lived in our neighborhood. I didn't know her, but I had seen her around. She approached me and said the obligatory "Trick or treat!" I gave her a few pieces of candy. Then she held out another pillowcase and explained, "This is for my mother." Okay.
I did not know the second young lady, but she too had two bags, one for herself and one for her unborn baby. Seriously?
Now I am no longer the library teacher or the Book Fairy, but I still look forward to seeing the children have fun running amok. We don't see as many in the older sections of our neighborhood as we once did. Parents tend to gravitate to the newer sections of our neighborhood, which is where the majority of our children now live. Not too many of my immediate neighbors hand out candy anymore. I will buy the candy, and if I don't see as many children, it will be more for those who do!
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