Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Gary's skin: part 876

Gary will test a theory for a maximum of 24 hours. Then he forms an opinon and the opinion trumps the scientific method.

He is now convinced that the answer to his skin problem is not drywall allergy, but is nightshade allergy. He cut tomatoes and bell peppers out of  his diet and felt better. Well, he felt better for a day. 

I would love for his issue to be that fixable. It seems too good to be true. 

TWIL: Interior door locks

I complained about how Gary has twice burst into the bathroom while I was occupying it.

“Why don’t you lock the door?” he asked.

“Because I don’t expect my husband to charge about like an uncivilized animal,” I said. “Besides, that’s dangerous. I could fall and you couldn’t get to me if the door was locked.”

“That’s why there's a hole in the doorknob. Why do you think it’s there? Do you think it’s an airhole?” he guffawed. “You stick a long metal rod in there and the lock pops open.”

“Show me.”

An hour later, he admitted that perhaps he was wrong.

This merited dual searches on the Internet, each of us vying to find the answer first.

The hole does indeed let you open a locked door in that you can use microsurgery levels of lock picking as this man does, but most people just pop out the hinge pins and take the whole door off.

I also learned they make decorative finials for hinge pins. Purchased two, of course. Photos later. 

Yard Sign: 2024 Edition

So, in the last few election cycles, Gary and I have disagreed on the subject of yard signs, both in 2020 and in 2016.

This year we are in agreement. He purchased this cryptic Blue-dot-in-a-Red-state sign. And yes. That’s the entire sign. It’s a blue dot.

 

Additionally, he bought two T-shirts, one cryptic ...

... and one subtle.

I feel we might be on a path to political harmony.

Opening the marriage with Gary

As I say, I have really been enjoying the How to Do It sex advice column on Slate plus. Such a variety of people and situations I could never have imagined. Also, as the most technical of technical virgins, it has made me appreciate the variety of definitions of sex. So many questions. "If I lick my ex-girlfriend's armpit hair does that count as cheating on my wife?" (Are you hiding this from your wife? Then, yes.)    

And, it has made me wonder, what would happen if I had ever taken their oft-given advice to "open up the relationship." How would that go?

Step one: Gary would be hurt. I never get past this painful step in my imagination. And because it's imaginary I just immediately kill him off, easier, but this advice column has me thinking outside the box. 

 Imaginary step two: Gary would catastrophize. YOU WILL GET AIDS AND DIE. (I would argue there are effective treatments and we have hit our out-of-pocket max for the year.)  YOU WILL GET SYPHILIS AND DIE. (Repeat.)

Imaginary step three: Pull out the negotiating tactic of  “It would be open for you too.” This would not fly, even if presented as a group effort. Too distracting. Could not concentrate with someone else there. 

Essentially, it would not happen because Gary is who he is: all or nothing. No compromise. 

Weekly Paint Progress: 9/12

This week? Cartoon cat went from this:

... to this.

This is kind of nice, because there's no way things will line up.

Gobsmacked at the Doctor

This seems impossible, but the doctor says that the two biopsies came back and indicate that Gary doesn't have psoriasis or skin cancer (which is excellent news).

Instead, he most likely has an allergic reaction that just looks exactly like the distinctive cheese-pizza-psoriasis plaques.

(I know. I heard the news and asked for a written record from the doctor because I assumed Gary was in a fugue state and just making it up.)

There are three possible allergy culprits.

• Drywall dust. He has been banging on about this for almost a year, but he recently bought dust monitors for every room and they all say there is no discernible dust. However, the dermatologist says that sometimes your skin just won't let things go, and the reaction continues long after the allergen is gone.

For the next two, the dermatologist echoed what my old allergist said, you can wake up one day and be allergic to something you've lived with your whole life.  Gary could suddenly have taken up an allergy to:

• His long-standing epilepsy, migraine, or cholesterol medications. The neurologist and GP have to be consulted before any changes can be made.
• Something in his diet. Tomatoes are a Vegetable of Interest. 

The treatment for all is a ten day titration of steroids. "Prepare to be very hungry," I told him.

"Oh, I won't be. My migraine medication keeps me from being hungry. Oh, and maybe I should like live in a hotel for a month, just in case I am really being trigged by something in the environment."

"YES EXCELLENT IDEA' I said, because Gary on steroids will be a manic, talkative, emotional Gary. I just can't. Baseline manic, talkative, emotional Gary is going to be too much for me. 

Alexa nag

Nagging. I won't do it. All my married life, if I want something done, either I do it myself (yard-work) or I hire someone (home construction) or I just give up (doctor's appointments). (Even at work, I balk if I am advised to "just send a gentle reminder in email.")

So, there's a new wrinkle in my no-nagging policy since Alexa came into my house. 

Pre-Alexa: I took out the trash.

Post-Alexa: I set a Tuesday evening reminder that says, "Ellen, here is your reminder. Take out the trash." The first time he heard it Gary said, "I'll do it."

"Are you sure? I usually --"

"NO IT IS MY JOB."

"News to me," I thought. "But sure, okay."

And now every Tuesday night, Alexa nags me, and he cheerfully laces up his shoes and takes out the trash.

I have a payday reminder for something that actually is his job: pay the bills.  "Ellen, here is your reminder. Pay bills." He pays the bills. It isn't even a conversation any more. 

I suppose I should analyze how this changes the dynamic. He loves Alexa and wants to please her? He's saving me from Alexa the evil robot boss? I don't know. 

I can't see a way to get him to make medical appointments. "Ellen, get Gary's colonoscopy" doesn't work at all. I am happy about the trash and the bills, though. 

Apollo 13 Genealogy Part 2

Okay, there's a second runner up for Jerry at NASA. This guy.

And, because I have overthought myself into face blindness, here's someone who may be the same guy with glasses. Or not. 

(The eyebrow in the high school photo is even more convincing for this guy.)

Of course, this guy(s?) had to be disqualified from the first round because a) he's wearing a mission control headset, not a press room headset, and b) Jerry would have been around 36 in 1970. I mean, he was 12 years away from dying of alcoholism, so I'd expect to see some wear, this guy looks 50 at least.

It was nice to see his high school photo. I think I do resemble him a little in the chin and jaw. Oh, wait, let me get in to Photoshop and spend three hours doing a comparison. (Or not.)

 

TWIL: Shapes

Last week there was a NYT crossword clue: “Fast-food order that comes in four shapes: bells, balls, boots, and bow ties.”

I had “ggets” already, so that was easy: McNuggets. I had no idea they had anything but amorphous shapes. And now, after seeing what they consider “Boot, ball, and bell” I am not surprised they allow “bone” as an alternative to "bow tie". 

Here you can watch as Canadians make McNuggets and pronounce “process.” (At 1:40 you can see the pre-breaded shapes. Takes a bit to see bow ties, boots, etc.)

Apollo 13 documentary on Netflix (with a Bonus Feature just for me, perhaps)

There is a new Apollo 13 documentary out on Netflix. Very, very exciting. Worth a look.

I have spoken before about how tiring it is to watch space documentaries because I keep looking for Jerry. That's made even more difficult because I don't quite know what he looks like. I don't have a lot of photos of technical father Jerry, mostly the wedding photos, and the one I found of him when he worked at the Houston Chronicle. 

However, last night they got to a point when they were discussing the public affairs/press team, and before I even thought, "Keep an eye out for Jerry," there he was. Gary was watching too, though, and instead of pausing it, I made a note to get ALL the Jerry photos (even the ones I found after Mom died ) and do a proper analysis.

They say the ears never change. Nor would Jerry's nose. I already had a good nose photo from the wedding: 

... and his high school photo is an excellent ear photo (plus I see where my wattle comes from).

So here's the compilation. 

His hair does not recede anymore, but that could be a result of the headset, or perhaps he's hiding it. What do you think? Be honest.

Botox Update with Bonus Bullet

I got the bladder Botox on or around June 28th, and in a month the check-up doctor said, "So, our schedule is busy, so if you start to see evidence that the effects are wearing off, call immediately so we can schedule the next series of shots well in advance."

Last week, I noticed effects were wearing off. (Specifically, some streams were weak and interrupted.) However, I believe my first dose was a baby dose (only six shots), so I hope my new early October appointment might be stronger and last longer.

• Okay, this is a fun thing I learned during this visit. Say you are quizzical about the genesis of some morning underpants dampness. Is it pee or ... secretions? According to the doctor, what you do is act like you have a bladder infection and take one of the over-the-counter anesthetic pills that turn your pee Day-glo orange. (And then check your underpants in the morning.)

Weekly Paint Progress: 9/5

This week the Cat went from this:

... to this ...

When it was originally this:

And I feel that's it for the Cat, though I always think I can go back. (Related: If anyone was concerned that Mom's face was too grey in her final iteration, it was, and I gave her a pink wash so she no longer looks like a corpse.)

Trial update

All I have left of my SUPERNOVA clinical trial is just one phone call in November. I began to wonder if that meant I could see some early results. 

Just as with my last trial, the drug has passed through a progression of names: code name to trial name to brand name. Just as FTy720 begat Fingolimod begat Gilenya, AZD3152 begat sipabivart and then ... nothing. No brand name yet.

But, back in June the European version of the Food and Drug Administration fast-tracked my drug because it is evidently so effective against Covid, including Omicron. 

"Cool," I thought, "So why isn't the US FDA fast-tracking it?"

Why? Because they already fast-tracked the same drug from a different maker. That drug has a brand name, Pemgarda, and not only does it have a brand name it has a web site. 

PEMGARDA has not been approved, but has been authorized for emergency use by FDA under an EUA, for pre-exposure prophylaxis of COVID-19 

It has its own Wikipedia page too, under "Pemivibart". It's a US maker, Invivyd: I guess that's why the FDA picked it instead of MY FAR SUPERIOR drug.

I am quite pouty about it.

I'm sad I'm not going to get a chance to take a drug I helped make. (Well, along with 3,335 other guinea pigs.) However, just last month the FDA did add that Permgarda is the favorite only as long as it defeats the prevalent variant. That means there's a chance that my drug, Sipavibart, can still come from behind.

And of course, if not, then I am always happy to accept the thanks of a grateful Europe. Enjoy the fruit of my minimal labors.

Gary is Smarter than I, Yet Again

The time: 2:00 a.m.

The place: kitchen table

I am awakened by the sound of Gary cursing.

Get up, creep in the dark to the kitchen, where I discover Gary has knocked a dime off the table and does not see where it rolled.

He is cursing and searching the floor.

"I got this," I say. With that I get the flashlight, then, and this is genius, I descend the exposed basement steps until my eyes are level with the kitchen floor, and I start swinging the flashlight and scanning like I am looking for relics from the Titanic.

"Or we could do this," Gary says, and turns on the light, instantly revealing the dime.