Monday, April 14, 2014

Season's Tweetings


'Twas soon to be #Christmas
#SMBMSP
And tweeters were tweeting
Like @NicoleDeB
Plus @AlbertMaruggi
@keithprivette @rickmahn
@sborsch @mitchellhislop
And @arikhanson
@MegCanada tweets @MrChristopherL
@bstemmler keeps filming
@stremcha rings a bell
@chrisnulty and @philson
@leeodden @gregswan
@quick13 @bradwellman
The tweets just go on:
@mnheadhunter @ThreeDeep
And @desaraeV
And @amysbryant and @davidtc
@timbursch @donmball
Tweet @myklroventine
Who RT's @Kayloire 
And @audiencemachine
This tweeting could go on
'Til 2010
So unhand your handhelds
And #MacBooks and then
Eat #bacon and celebrate all that you can

'Til #SMBMSP happens again.  

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Playing catchup with reality

Despite the title of this blog, I have rarely jumped to the heart, but a humbling 24 hours has pushed me.

I look in the mirror and see:  Susan.
Others look at me, and see a senior citizen.
It's not just the last 24 hours.  There was the woman at the gym who didn't understand why I hadn't considered Silver Sneakers exercise classes. The aqua aerobics instructor who asked if I was going to the luncheon at the Senior Center.
Then, yesterday, the eye doctor who said my blurry vision was caused by cataracts.  
Cataracts?! I gasped.  People my age get cataracts???
Yes, he nodded, scanning my chart for my age, 50% of people over 62 have cataracts.*
I'm 58; but to him, I am appropriately aged for cataracts.
Today at the coop, the cashier cautiously wondered if I'd be using the Tuesday discount.
What discount?
For seniors, she explained, over 62.
My perception of myself has clearly not caught up with reality.
Reality gallops apace, while I remain: Susan.


*FWIW: I checked the NIH statistics. Only 15.54% of 62-year-olds have cataracts.  Among white people my age, the rate is 8.84%.


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Dance to the music of time

When Alison Young asked me to bring my musical bucket list to her MPR feature, Music With Minnesotans, I was at a loss.  I had none.
Instead, I looked back at my life through the lens of classical music, and this was the result.



It was a delight.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Neither shallow nor deep

Logo of The New York Times.Image via WikipediaWhile I did reserve The Shallows, the much-touted book about what the internet is doing to our brains, I did not read it.

I have, however, experienced it.

Sunday, just for the old-fashioned heck of it, I shelled out $6 for a New York Times.  What a pleasure to spread out in bed with it.  Lounge on the couch with it. Read it on the treadmill.  Section after section, reading all day and into Monday, when my beloved New Yorker arrived.   It's the last magazine to which I subscribe, and I've been reading it less and less.

But so quickly had I returned to the reading-on-paper habit, that I sat down and read The New Yorker.

This morning I dialed up (!) the New York Times and ordered Sunday home delivery, then proceeded to sit down and begin reading Julie Salomon's Wendy Wasserstein biography, "Wendy and The Lost Boys."

Aren't I literary!

Not really.  This is Standard Operating Procedure for the pre-internet me, 

And I like it.
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Monday, November 15, 2010

Pick your poison

CarpusImage via Wikipedia
Fairview/UofM vs Tria/Park Nicollet.
Back in July, I had an idiotic fall that smashed my wrist.
Treament and surgery were done at Tria, an orthopedic clinic affiliated with Park Nicollet.  The surgeon was good, the day surgery team a marvel of efficiency, and the hand therapists hard-working and resourceful.  They tried every therapeutic trick and torture device to fix the wrist, but four months later, it is painful and almost immobile.   Each department was good at its single mission-but too narrowly focused.  "When do you see the doctor?" my hand therapist would ask, shaking her head at my lack of progress.
I sought a second opinion at Fairview/UofM, a teaching facility, where a Professor of Orthopedics quickly diagnosed the problem:  two tears in the soft tissue.  Loved the way the diagnostic team worked there.  But systemically, what a mess.  Bad followup.  Calls are not returned.  Appoinsments scheduled in the wrong department.  Just plain sloppy, systemically.
So, what to do?  I need a working right hand.  
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Monday, August 23, 2010

Apropos of nothing

SocksImage via WikipediaWhich must be something like east of the sun.
My son came home from camp with a duffel full of mysteries.
Like where were his fins?
How did his soap return unscathed for the second year running?
And what happened to the other 19 socks?
This kid went to camp with ten pairs and came home with a single sock
"I have issues with socks," he explained.
There was some childhood trauma I was unaware of?
The sock industry gave money to Tom Emmer's campaign?
Who knows?  Who cares?
He came home tall, happy, handsome, 16 pounds lighter, he learned to water ski, and I've got a bar of soap he can use for the third year in a row. 
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