Anyone care to guess how many pairs of gloves I own? Or how many I go through in a year?
Answer: I own 20 ½ pairs! God, how did I get so many! I go through 4 – 6 pair a year.
This is what happens when you use your hands like feet. Some of them are failed experiments unfortunately. Like shoes, some just don’t work out. Some are good in hot weather, some in cold.
Here’s the breakdown:
1 pair oversized leather gardening gloves, which is what I used to wear in warm weather until I realized I could get lovely gloves with silk linings! That was in 2005 when we went to Italy. I’ll never look at gloves the same way again.
A digression: Our first stop was Milan, and on almost the first day I was taken in totally by a glove shop close to the hotel. It was October, but I am sure that shop is open year round, and they had gloves in every color and shape. I was in heaven. In the end I bought 8 pairs, including one purple one with cashmere inside for my sister. You could say I still have 6 pairs left, but only 3 are in good shape.
1 pair of black leather gloves that got wet in the rain so badly that they stretched out horribly, so those are my ‘rain gloves’.
1 pair of black leather gloves, that I used, for some reason that now escapes me, when I was out painting the side fence, so they are my ‘work gloves’.
4 pairs of over-the-wrist gloves. The black suede ones with a silk lining are so super fine, for dressy summer nights. The long black cashmere lined ones for winter. Guess how often I use those? Oh, once a year or so. There’s also a brown and orange long pair, with little zippers on top, very cute, but not so practical. I’ve decided that long gloves are generally too hot here in San Diego, even in winter. All of those are in good shape, from Italy. Then there’s a beautiful creamy tan long pair with cashmere, that I’m afraid to use! I am sure that 3 uses will leave dark smudges along the palms.
3 pairs of biking gloves, leather palms, mesh for top of hands, elastic wrists. The red pair I’m about to chuck out, it’s got Velcro on the wrist which always gets caught on things. But the other 2 pairs, both black, I hang onto for really hot summer days when wearing leather makes my hands sweat.
2 pairs of leather only, no lining, short gloves, both from Italy. One never had a lining, it was an experiment that didn’t work out. The leather sticks to your hands, and the gloves are really hard to get off. The other pair used to have a silk lining, but I wore them SO much that the lining wore out, and eventually I cut it out. I wore a hole through the leather at one thumb too, but I love those gloves so much I can’t bear to put them in the trash!
1 pair of rather ugly orange gloves with orange and pink trim that I got cheap one day when I think I was feeling desperate (pre Italy days). I should add them to the give away pile. They fit well though, and would be warm if I used them. They just don’t seem to go with my clothes. And for me to call something orange “ugly” means they are really bad.
2 pairs of cashmere lined short gloves, for colder weather. The black pair is still ok, the brick colored pair starting to wear. I’m going to need more like this next November.
And last, but not least, 5 pairs of silk lined short gloves for all the rest of the year. One is green, and I got it in Italy. The other 4 were found for me recently by a good friend of mine in Maryland – black, brown, red and teal. I’ve already worn the red ones to where the lining has a couple of holes.
Oh, and the ½ - is from a pair I bought in Argentina, black with a silver buckle, and a nylon lining. These perhaps were the most durable of all. I lost the other ½ in a local Vons store – I absolutely KNOW I lost it there – and it never showed up in their Lost and Found. I still check from time to time.
So, 20 pairs sounds like a lot, but it’s not as much as it seems. Especially since I wear out about 4 pairs a year if not more, and because I lose about 2 gloves a year too. Most of the time I lose the Right hand glove. I take off that glove to sign something, or to reach for something in a store, and put it on my lap or tuck it next to me. I forget about it, and then it’s gone.
I had been telling Jim that I had to go to Italy again, to buy more gloves, but my friend in Maryland saved the day. It’s hard to find gloves in San Diego! Even winter gloves aren’t in the stores long.
So, after 30 years I finally know what I need in gloves – has to be leather for traction, lined with cashmere in winter, silk or nylon in summer, short length just at the wrist preferably without elastic there size 7 ½ most of the time – though it’s a good idea to try on gloves when you can. All kinds of colors, though I use the black, brown and red most. Some for dressing up are nice, likewise some for Santa Anas, but those I could live without. And keep the old ones for messy days.
The reason for all this analysis? Today I bought myself a “glove box”. It’s just a CD box really, but it’s for holding several pairs of gloves out by my desk, so that when I’m getting ready to go out, I can just pull something out. I keep most of my gloves in the bedroom, so in the morning as I get dressed I pick a pair. Or I forget to pick a pair, and find myself running back later. My glove box is happily holding 5 pr now, red, black and brown silk lined, one biking pair, and the ones for rainy days (being optimistic!) and my thumb splint. It’s good.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
a few updates
I’m feeling a bit lazy today, so instead of some well thought out (hah!) commentary on some engaging topic, I’ll just put in a few updates on old topics, ones that people have been asking me about.
My wrist is doing quite well these days. I had come to the conclusion that surgery was imminent, but in the month or so it took me to get the second opinion and then see the surgeon I liked best, my wrist is really doing much better. It still pains me (forgive the language, I’ve been watching a lot of Upstairs Downstairs DVDs as I do my stretches lately) from time to time. Moving my wrist too far back or forward is a bad idea, but overall I can forget I have a problem most of the time. I am wearing an anti-inflammatory topical patch over it during the day, and will keep doing so till the pain is totally gone.
Status of the wheelchair order – Today the letter of medical necessity was sent to the doctor for his signature. There was a little confusion first, when one of the staff of the medical supply store wanted me to sign a letter saying that I would authorize a purchase of up to $5000 for a chair (she assumed my chair couldn’t cost more) since that is my plan’s annual limit for durable medical supplies. This woman had called and left a message. When I called back she had already gotten new instructions from the rep I had worked with. But I also had to tell her that I had already used some part of that $5000 for urological supplies, and that I wanted to see what insurance would pay for first, because if they do not agree to pay for the fancy wheels I want, I’m going to buy them elsewhere. So, she understands now, that the plan is to get the doctor’s signature, then get insurance approval, then run it all by me again, THEN order the chair – and the order may change between now and then. I hope I hear from her early next week that she’s got what she needs from my doctor, or I’m going to camp out in his office and wait for him with letter and pen in hand! I’m going to try to oversee each step of the process, but chances are something will go wrong anyway. I feel a bit overbearing, and I’m sure I am slightly insulting looking like I don’t trust others to be competent, but then I remind myself that I’m the only one who really cares that this goes through the way I want it to.
And something ironic happened today too. I’ve been thinking that the Humane Society is not the place for me to volunteer, and maybe I should look elsewhere. So, what happens? The woman who heads the department emailed me today, asking if I might consider going in one day every week. I had to laugh. I thought they had regulars there, but wasn’t totally sure. I suppose they don’t ask you to be a regular unless they know you better, and perhaps when they have more work to do. Still, I can’t help but find it amusing that her invitation was right as I was having doubts about being there. For now, I’ll tell her I need to think about it, and I’ll get back to her next week. Perhaps it isn’t such a bad fit after all, if they are asking me. Though, I suppose they could be asking all volunteers to come more often, I don’t know.
The 12-year-old neighborhood girl and I have giving Jasper his medicine down to a science now! Jim has been away again this week, and so I’ve needed help to give Jasper his pill. She’s confident, calm, quiet and gentle, and Jasper no longer runs from her. Even Fforde came out of the closet today to meet her. From the time she comes through the door to the time the pill is down Jasper’s throat is about 2 minutes! Of course, she hangs around long enough to give all the cats treats, and so I hope they all think of her as the Treats Lady. Still, she’s in and out in 5 minutes, and I think I have my regular helper for a long time to come. The first few weeks, while Jasper was getting used to the idea of medicine, and Jim and I were getting used to it too – we needed someone more comfortable with the idea than we were. So, 1 hour of our catsitter’s time (including travel time) and $20 of our money per day was needed when he was out of town. Now, it’s such a relief to have neighbors who can assist me in 5 minutes. Another next-door neighbor has also helped me with Jasper when the young lady was not available. And Jasper is doing so well, that on Friday he goes down to 1 pill every 2 days! Woohoo!
Writing is helping me sleep better. I’ve always had trouble getting to sleep, at least since my grad school days. On days that I don’t write in my blog, I find myself ruminating on what I might write the next day. On days I do write, I might still find it hard to get to sleep, but it’ll be quicker. My conclusion? Something good is happening for me, not sure what, but this project is good for my mental health for now. So, I might not write every day, but I will try to write most days. I’ll almost certainly skip tomorrow, I have a dreadfully busy day ahead of me, not all business, but very full.
My wrist is doing quite well these days. I had come to the conclusion that surgery was imminent, but in the month or so it took me to get the second opinion and then see the surgeon I liked best, my wrist is really doing much better. It still pains me (forgive the language, I’ve been watching a lot of Upstairs Downstairs DVDs as I do my stretches lately) from time to time. Moving my wrist too far back or forward is a bad idea, but overall I can forget I have a problem most of the time. I am wearing an anti-inflammatory topical patch over it during the day, and will keep doing so till the pain is totally gone.
Status of the wheelchair order – Today the letter of medical necessity was sent to the doctor for his signature. There was a little confusion first, when one of the staff of the medical supply store wanted me to sign a letter saying that I would authorize a purchase of up to $5000 for a chair (she assumed my chair couldn’t cost more) since that is my plan’s annual limit for durable medical supplies. This woman had called and left a message. When I called back she had already gotten new instructions from the rep I had worked with. But I also had to tell her that I had already used some part of that $5000 for urological supplies, and that I wanted to see what insurance would pay for first, because if they do not agree to pay for the fancy wheels I want, I’m going to buy them elsewhere. So, she understands now, that the plan is to get the doctor’s signature, then get insurance approval, then run it all by me again, THEN order the chair – and the order may change between now and then. I hope I hear from her early next week that she’s got what she needs from my doctor, or I’m going to camp out in his office and wait for him with letter and pen in hand! I’m going to try to oversee each step of the process, but chances are something will go wrong anyway. I feel a bit overbearing, and I’m sure I am slightly insulting looking like I don’t trust others to be competent, but then I remind myself that I’m the only one who really cares that this goes through the way I want it to.
And something ironic happened today too. I’ve been thinking that the Humane Society is not the place for me to volunteer, and maybe I should look elsewhere. So, what happens? The woman who heads the department emailed me today, asking if I might consider going in one day every week. I had to laugh. I thought they had regulars there, but wasn’t totally sure. I suppose they don’t ask you to be a regular unless they know you better, and perhaps when they have more work to do. Still, I can’t help but find it amusing that her invitation was right as I was having doubts about being there. For now, I’ll tell her I need to think about it, and I’ll get back to her next week. Perhaps it isn’t such a bad fit after all, if they are asking me. Though, I suppose they could be asking all volunteers to come more often, I don’t know.
The 12-year-old neighborhood girl and I have giving Jasper his medicine down to a science now! Jim has been away again this week, and so I’ve needed help to give Jasper his pill. She’s confident, calm, quiet and gentle, and Jasper no longer runs from her. Even Fforde came out of the closet today to meet her. From the time she comes through the door to the time the pill is down Jasper’s throat is about 2 minutes! Of course, she hangs around long enough to give all the cats treats, and so I hope they all think of her as the Treats Lady. Still, she’s in and out in 5 minutes, and I think I have my regular helper for a long time to come. The first few weeks, while Jasper was getting used to the idea of medicine, and Jim and I were getting used to it too – we needed someone more comfortable with the idea than we were. So, 1 hour of our catsitter’s time (including travel time) and $20 of our money per day was needed when he was out of town. Now, it’s such a relief to have neighbors who can assist me in 5 minutes. Another next-door neighbor has also helped me with Jasper when the young lady was not available. And Jasper is doing so well, that on Friday he goes down to 1 pill every 2 days! Woohoo!
Writing is helping me sleep better. I’ve always had trouble getting to sleep, at least since my grad school days. On days that I don’t write in my blog, I find myself ruminating on what I might write the next day. On days I do write, I might still find it hard to get to sleep, but it’ll be quicker. My conclusion? Something good is happening for me, not sure what, but this project is good for my mental health for now. So, I might not write every day, but I will try to write most days. I’ll almost certainly skip tomorrow, I have a dreadfully busy day ahead of me, not all business, but very full.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
What Ifs
I have been pondering on the words “What If?” on and off all day. A variant of the theme for me is, “What would be different if (fill in the blank)?” And this topic came to mind because of my blog entry yesterday. What would I be doing for volunteer work now if I didn’t have this disability? Followed by the question, would I be doing volunteer work at all?
I wonder if everyone asks themselves these kinds of questions as much as I do. I hope not, because sometimes it does feel depressing. You feel like you are focusing on your losses. It must be part of my personality, though I wouldn’t call myself depressed exactly. I don’t feel sorry for myself either. Still, I often do wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn’t been shot, the question is never far from my mind.
I imagine that most people at some point in their lives ask What If questions. What if I had taken that job in Toledo? What if I married my first love? What if I had pushed myself to finish college? You generally don’t ask, What if I had different parents? Or what if I had been born 10 years earlier? Well, once in a while I do ask these things, but not with the same feeling behind them. The latter group are curiosity type questions, perhaps with a little annoyance with an arrangement you are used to, but that’s not ideal. The former group have to do with consequences of your own decisions and actions.
Oh, I have quite a few of the What Ifs about my own decisions, for I made a few questionable choices in my life, and even some that were decidedly mistakes. What if I had made an effort and saved my first marriage? What if I had followed that one lover back in college? What if I had the courage to live alone for a while? What if I had finished my psych PhD? All of these were my own decisions then, influenced by my own psychological makeup of the time, of course, but my own decisions all the same.
How do I handle the other questions though, related to the act forced upon me, not of my choosing – What if I hadn’t been shot? What if I hadn’t become a paraplegic? How would that have affected my education, love life, family, career? I suspect things would be quite different. This is not the same as saying it would have been better or even easier, but definitely different. Who knows, I might have been a brilliant scientist, but with no kids. Or I might have gotten mixed up with drugs and alcohol, like an un-named family member of mine. Or perhaps I would have travelled to India and stayed there. I’ll never know. It’s possible I’d have made the same choices even if I hadn’t had a disability!
The problem with these questions, isn’t a lack of answers. The problem is that being shot wasn’t my choosing. Is this how victims of violent crime feel in general? Robbed of something, deprived of something? Damaged? Is it the violence that generates this thinking, or the disability itself?
I have had a good life. I’ve been lucky really. I live well now, with someone I love. I enjoyed raising my kids, being a stay-at-home mom and I think they’ve turned out ok. No regrets. But this doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’d rather pet the kitties than do paperwork, and wonder whether I’d be doing either if were walking.
I wonder if everyone asks themselves these kinds of questions as much as I do. I hope not, because sometimes it does feel depressing. You feel like you are focusing on your losses. It must be part of my personality, though I wouldn’t call myself depressed exactly. I don’t feel sorry for myself either. Still, I often do wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn’t been shot, the question is never far from my mind.
I imagine that most people at some point in their lives ask What If questions. What if I had taken that job in Toledo? What if I married my first love? What if I had pushed myself to finish college? You generally don’t ask, What if I had different parents? Or what if I had been born 10 years earlier? Well, once in a while I do ask these things, but not with the same feeling behind them. The latter group are curiosity type questions, perhaps with a little annoyance with an arrangement you are used to, but that’s not ideal. The former group have to do with consequences of your own decisions and actions.
Oh, I have quite a few of the What Ifs about my own decisions, for I made a few questionable choices in my life, and even some that were decidedly mistakes. What if I had made an effort and saved my first marriage? What if I had followed that one lover back in college? What if I had the courage to live alone for a while? What if I had finished my psych PhD? All of these were my own decisions then, influenced by my own psychological makeup of the time, of course, but my own decisions all the same.
How do I handle the other questions though, related to the act forced upon me, not of my choosing – What if I hadn’t been shot? What if I hadn’t become a paraplegic? How would that have affected my education, love life, family, career? I suspect things would be quite different. This is not the same as saying it would have been better or even easier, but definitely different. Who knows, I might have been a brilliant scientist, but with no kids. Or I might have gotten mixed up with drugs and alcohol, like an un-named family member of mine. Or perhaps I would have travelled to India and stayed there. I’ll never know. It’s possible I’d have made the same choices even if I hadn’t had a disability!
The problem with these questions, isn’t a lack of answers. The problem is that being shot wasn’t my choosing. Is this how victims of violent crime feel in general? Robbed of something, deprived of something? Damaged? Is it the violence that generates this thinking, or the disability itself?
I have had a good life. I’ve been lucky really. I live well now, with someone I love. I enjoyed raising my kids, being a stay-at-home mom and I think they’ve turned out ok. No regrets. But this doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’d rather pet the kitties than do paperwork, and wonder whether I’d be doing either if were walking.
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