by Christine | Life, Observations
Three years ago today, my husband and I were sitting in the waiting room at UCLA Hospital along with about a hundred other people. The sun hadn’t yet risen. It was cold, and I was nervous. Tom was scared to death.
The summer between tentative diagnosis and the MRI that confirmed it.
He’d read more about this procedure than I had; he’d done more research. Since what I had read scared the crap out of me, I didn’t bother to read more than the basics.
An Acoustic Neuroma (or more accurately called a Vestibular Schwannoma) is usually benign, slow growing, and lays on top of the acoustic nerve and the facial nerve (nerves 7 and 8, I believe).
It used to be a rare diagnosis; but acoustic neuromas are showing up more frequently.
There are two types of treatment; surgical, and Gamma Knife Radiation. I chose surgical, because I wanted that thing out of me.
I walked everywhere that summer in Mammoth, always with a walking stick. My balance was beyond unpredictable.
So the surgery lasted 11 hours; for more detail, see this post here. I had a follow-up visit with my otologist at 9 months post-op – he said my recovery was going well but to keep up my walking and my balance practice, and he sent me to therapy.
That’s when I realized that the 3 to 6 months of recovery time was wrong.
For me, it’s taken a solid three years to recover, but I can finally say I’m good to go. My balance is good; the hearing in my right ear is gone, of course, having been taken out by going through the ear canal to perform the surgery – better than having my skull opened up! – but I’ve gotten used to being unable to easily echo-locate.
I’ve also gotten used to putting people on my left side, and reminding people if they’re on my deaf side that they might have to touch my arm to get my attention.
I didn’t go the “group” route when I was diagnosed; I’m not really that kind of person. But if you’re dealing with an acoustic neuroma, and if you ARE a group type person, there’s a good one called the Acoustic Neuroma Association. They have an interview with Mark Ruffalo, who also underwent surgery for an acoustic neuroma; his story is different from mine and totally fascinating.
I guess I just wanted to do a wrap-up, partly for me, partly for others out there who are undergoing the fear and fascination of having something growing in your head that doesn’t belong there. I do consider myself lucky. But the best part is, more surgeons are getting experience dealing with acoustic neuromas. More information is known. And more information is almost always better when dealing with someone mucking about in your cranium.
May all your days be blessed. Mine certainly have been. Oh – and Happy Anniversary to me. I think I deserve to celebrate.
)O(
by Christine | Observations
About January Black
Sixteen-year-old genius Matty Ducayn has never fit in on The Hill, an ordered place seriously lacking a sense of humor. After his school’s headmaster expels him for a small act of mischief, Matty’s future looks grim until King Hadrian comes to his rescue with a challenge: answer a question for a master’s diploma.
More than a second chance, this means freedom. Masters can choose where they work, a rarity among Regents, and the question is simple.
What was January Black?
It’s a ship. Everyone knows that. Hadrian rejects that answer, though, and Matty becomes compelled by curiosity and pride to solve the puzzle. When his search for an answer turns up long-buried state secrets, Matty’s journey becomes a collision course with a deadly royal decree. He’s been set up to fail, which forces him to choose. Run for his life with the challenge lost…or call the king’s bluff.
January Black is the silver medalist in the 2013 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards, Young Adult – Coming of Age category.
Kindle | Nook | Other Digital | Paperback | Signed Paperbacks | Add to Goodreads Shelf
Praise
Reader Reviews
Blog Reviews
Wendy S. Russo got her start writing in the sixth grade. That story involved a talisman with crystals that had to be found and assembled before bad things happened, and dialog that read like classroom roll call. Since then, she’s majored in journalism (for one semester), published poetry, taken a course on short novels, and watched most everything ever filmed by Quentin Tarantino. A Wyoming native transplanted in Baton Rouge, Wendy works for Louisiana State University as an IT analyst. She’s a wife, a mom, a Tiger, a Who Dat, and she falls asleep on her couch at 8:30 on weeknights. She can be found online in the following places:
Amazon | Authorgraph | Crescent Moon Press | Facebook | Google + | Pinterest | Twitter
by Christine | Life, Observations
What to Buy?
I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to think of things I can give that are different, that aren’t expensive, that won’t get dusty, and that most people wouldn’t go get on their own and as I was wandering around the (very small) Farmer’s Market in Pasadena, I realized there were a lot of one-off gifts, the delightful, the different. I bought some stuff for me but hey, I have to think every Farmer’s Market is a bit different and will have different stuff – especially near the holidays – to help me handle my holiday gift list.
As we wandered into the center of the market, this marvelous spice scent hit my nose. At first I thought it was the vendors offering all sorts of things for sale; it wasn’t until I passed them and saw the mounds of fresh teas and spices in big bowls that I realized it was the World Flavorz Spice and Tea Co. merchant that had caught my attention. (Here’s their Facebook Page if you’re interested!)
Buy 5, get one free…well, I had to, didn’t I? Aren’t they pretty?
One of the salts that caught our attention was this black lava salt. It’s made by smoking it with coconut husks (I think I have that right…) and looked intriguing. I also bought some pink Himalayan Salt (because I’m a salt addict).
This salt just looked fascinating. It looks like it has lavender in it, as well as other Provence herbs. Not sure what I’ll use this in, but I’m keeping my options open.
Pepper is something that Tom and I are always “discussing”. I like pepper. He likes the pepper mixture from the store that has lots of other things in it beside pepper (like nutmeg I think…). I’m thinking he might like this, because it has lavender and rose petals in it. But again, what to use it in? Soups, maybe…
In the top photo, you can see two spices at the bottom. I wanted some fresh curry mixture, which is the yellow spice – and the red is fresh, sweet Hungarian paprika. I’ve been looking for the sweet variety, and I’m SO glad I found it! I’ll be using that on my turkey this year.
So, while I haven’t even begun to shop for my family and friends, spices from a Farmer’s Market might be a good gift choice. I’m looking forward to nosing through other Farmer’s Markets in the greater Los Angeles area – never know what I might find for that perfect person.
Thanks for stopping by! May your week be filled with family, friends, good food, and plenty of thanks.
)O(
What sorts of places do you like to go to, when you’re shopping for gifts?
by Christine | Observations
My garden is transitioning from “end-of-summer ugly” to “fall and winter green”, but it’s taking some time.
The tomato plants finally died out; we pulled them after tasting the last tomatoes to ripen. They were bitter, full of acid and without the sweetness that the summer sun brings to them. We are going to move those beds, so for now they lie fallow. No sense in amending soil if we’re not going to plant there.
Tom experimented with seeds, growing several things in small pots and transplanting them once the seedlings were big enough. Beets, kale, cucumbers, peas, two types of lettuces, spinach – we had high hopes. Surprisingly enough, they all became bug food (I suspect a certain, very large, grasshopper) except for some peas, beets, a few cucumber plants, and the kale. That is thriving and we shall have plenty for our winter salads.
The thriving kale bed.
We ended up buying lettuces, only to see them fall to the gnashing teeth of the grasshopper. We are considering our way forward; either poisonous dust or spray, or continue the mineral oil/soap/garlic spray that the grasshopper has seemed to take a liking for. We are still unsure how to go about this.
The lettuce bed, where grasshoppers love to nibble. The peas against the fence are being left alone.
The pond got filled in a couple of years ago when the dogs were no longer around to protect the fish. Now, however, it’s time to put the pond back in, raccoons be damned. We’ve got the pond lining – now just need the time and a few free dollars to buy a new pump.
The pond-to-be.
Here’s more garden beauty…
Blossom on my Meyer lemon tree. Hopefully they’ll turn into yummy lemons.
Regenerating artichoke plants. We shall drown in artichokes next spring/early summer.
Spinach (foreground) and bush beans (background).
Okay, there you go – the garden update. I promise to keep you up to speed on how the various veggies do in the upcoming winter. If we get several hard freezes (like we did last January-February), I don’t know what that’ll do to the lettuce, but I know the spinach will thrive.
~)O(~
Thanks so much for stopping by – until the next time, be kind to each other. Hugs!
by Christine | Observations
Egyptian Paranormals? Cozy on up – Veronica Scott is taking over the blog today!
Veronica Scott, Author
Christine, thanks for inviting me to be your guest for Writer Wednesday!
So, one of the questions I always get asked is, why do I write paranormal novels set in ancient Egypt? (Although I also write futuristic science fiction, just sayin…) Here’s my multipart answer.
My mother was a would-be archaeologist whose bookcase was filled with every single Time-Life book printed about ancient cultures and civilizations, including the glorious illustrations and photographs. I spent a lot of time poring over those books as a kid and the place I was always most fascinated by was ancient Egypt. I think the tomb paintings and the jewelry probably caught my eye first, to tell you the truth, but then when I started reading about the Egyptian accomplishments and beliefs, I was hooked.
In elementary school, I found an old copy of “Mara, Daughter of the Nile” by Eloise Jarvis McGraw in the library and I devoured that book. The idea that you could write your own stories about what life was like for people who lived thousands of years ago was just eye opening to the fledgling writer I’d become in 6th grade. I loved the details, the romance and the tiny hint of the paranormal in her book. I wanted MOAR. Lots more. But although there are other authors who tell tales set in the time period I enjoy most (around 1500 BCE), there just aren’t enough for the voracious reader in me. So I took the oft heard advice and began writing the books I couldn’t find enough of on the shelf (or kindle).
When the King Tut exhibit came through Los Angeles in the 1970s, my employer at the time was a corporate sponsor, so I got to spend an hour pretty much alone in the exhibit (except for the ever present security guards of course). That was amazing, to be so close to the treasures I’d only seen pictures of, chief among them the incredible golden mask. The everyday items of life from 3000 years ago, like chairs and mirrors, were just as fascinating in their own way. The experience gave me a feeling for how much like us the people had been, yet how very differently they thought about things, with so much emphasis on constantly preparing for their vision of the afterlife.
I enjoy the challenge of trying to recreate the ancient Egyptian world without oversharing the tiny details or having my characters talk unnecessarily about things they would see as routine and normal (because like most writers, I looove doing the research and wow, do I have facts crammed in my head!). Putting the gods like Hathor and Ra, goddesses such as Isis and her twin sister Nephthys onstage in the action leads to all kinds of plot fun and lets me take some liberties. I’d be hopeless at writing straightforward historical romances, although I admire those authors who can. I’m always asking “what if” and “why not this”… On my blog I devote an entire page to a discussion of historical accuracy in my novels and the ever-growing list of reference books I own!
Here’s the blurb for my most recent novel, “Dancer of the Nile”, in which I had fun 
describing a game of senet with life or death stakes, among other things, and bringing Renenutet the Snake Goddess into the events:
Nima’s beauty and skill as a dancer leads an infatuated enemy to kidnap her after destroying an Egyptian border town. However, she’s not the only hostage in the enemy camp: Kamin, an Egyptian soldier on a secret mission for Pharaoh, has been taken as well. Working together to escape, the two of them embark on a desperate quest across the desert to carry word of the enemy’s invasion plans to Pharaoh’s people.
As they flee for their lives, these two strangers thrown together by misfortune have to trust in each other to survive. Nima suspects Kamin is more than the simple soldier he seems, but she finds it hard to resist the effect he has on her heart. Kamin has a duty to his Pharaoh to see his mission completed, but this clever and courageous dancer is claiming more of his loyalty and love by the moment. Kamin starts to worry, if it comes to a choice between saving Egypt or saving Nima’s life…what will he do?
Aided by the Egyptian god Horus and the Snake Goddess Renenutet, beset by the enemy’s black magic, can Nima and Kamin evade the enemy and reach the safety of the Nile in time to foil the planned attack?
Can there ever be a happy future together for the humble dancer and the brave Egyptian soldier who is so much more than he seems?
~
Thank you, Veronica! The book sounds amazing – and there are two more in the series, folks! Check them out, and please ask questions – she’ll be here once she shakes free from her day job.
“Dancer of the Nile” can be found at: Amazon Barnes & Noble All Romance eBooks Smashwords iTunes
Where readers can find Veronica: Blog @vscotttheauthor Facebook
~oOo~
Thanks so much for stopping by!
by Christine | Observations
Wow.
It was all kinds of amazing. I’d wanted to get a NoH8 photo taken ever since I first saw Louisa Bacio’s – I had no idea that “regular” people could get them. I thought it was just for celebrities and such.
Boy, was I wrong.
Yesterday, Burbank opened its new headquarters with a photo shoot. It was scheduled to go from 1pm to 5pm; first come, first served, but they promised they’d get to everyone in line.
That should have been my first clue. And it was, to a certain extent – I made plans to get ready (after laundering my “white” shirts) and leave my house by 11:15am to get in line. Surely I’d be close to the front.
Um, no.
11:45am
I got there at 11:45, and knew immediately where to go from the line of animated people wearing white shirts. I parked several blocks away, in the first spot I could grab, and went to join the adventure.
It was an amazingly diverse group. The two people directly in front of me were young lesbians, a tall, gorgeously round black woman and her younger, shorter, only slightly less round (and gorgeous) Latina girlfriend. They were affectionate in line; and as I looked up and down, listened to the chatter, I realized everyone who was there was with someone, and they were all affectionate.
Loving. Hugging and smooching, laughing, touching up each other’s makeup (or rad hair, for the guys), tugging on shirts. There were babies and old people and everything in between. If I had to guess, I’d say the median age was mid-30s, though every age group was represented.
They must have started shooting early; before 1pm came along, the line was moving and we were given model releases to fill out. The number on my page was 104; the line stretched long behind me. I’m guessing there were 500 people there, but that’s just a guess.
Once we were inside, there were stations with volunteers wearing red shirts ready to put the tattoo on. Ah, so much sense! Not hand-painted, which I can see would take forever. (Note: when someone changed their mind about where on their face to put the tattoo, the volunteers removed the first one by placing duct tape on it and rubbing it hard before peeling it off. I used baby oil when I got home – much easier!)
I nabbed a chair after getting tattooed, and alternatively read and people watched. There was a group wearing rainbow colored leis and waving a rainbow flag – it looked like maybe 8 or 9 family members. In another corner, two women in their early 40s I’d guess held a sign that mentioned they’d gotten married 3 times in 3 different states to each other; they were celebrating their 10th anniversary. A gal next to me had white boxing gloves – one of them had the NoH8 symbol on it, the other Just Love (except a bright red heart was in place of the word Love). People were friendly – groups formed, separated, formed again. The first 75 people seemed to go very slowly. Time ticked on.
Numbers were called and a group of us got up and moved to a different line – the one where we paid. Once we were in where the photographer was, things picked up.
The photographer was a slender young man with a businesslike camera and flash, a fan behind him and the appropriate reflectors behind him, a white backdrop in front. He posed us all – babies to grandmas – looking fierce, looking like love, looking like hope. I paid, got in another line, got my piece of duct tape over my mouth (glad I kept remembering that and didn’t bother with lipstick), and then it was my turn.
Sideways to the camera. Lean forward. Hand on hip, other hand in V sign over my head. Straight on, turn head, hands in prayer position. Lean forward. Great, girl. Hug, next.
Taken at home – the real thing will be better!
It was over. Exhausted, I stripped the tape off my mouth, walked through the t-shirt shop without buying anything, and made the long walk back to my car. The silence on that walk was deafening; when I got in my car, it took me a few minutes to get my seatbelt on and get going.
3:45pm.
I’d spent 4 hours in line, two minutes getting my photo taken, all to take a stand for equal rights for all people – gay, straight, black, brown, yellow, blue, green, transgender, bisexual, honey it doesn’t matter. If you’re human, you’re my equal. I did it for family, for friends lost and living, for love.
As I drove away, I realized that not once while I was waiting did I feel uncomfortable, out of my element, or threatened in any way (which can sometimes happen when you’re with that many strangers). I don’t know if it was the common cause that united us, or if it was just all that love and affection pouring over everyone that made a difference. But those people I spent four hours with? Those are my people. And they were all over whatever spectrum you want to judge them with. Age wise, sexuality wise, color wise. It may have exhausted me physically and mentally (I only got about 800 words written last night), but in hindsight?
It sent my spirit soaring.
