I can't say that yesterday's office visit was a success, necessarily. Follow-up tests showed that I don't have high uric acid levels, that my thyroid might be too low, and that my iron was very low. There were some indications that I had been fighting off an unidentified virus.

I've started on iron supplements, and we'll see how it goes.

In the definitive improvement department, the persistent headaches have subsided to a much duller roar - perhaps a one or two on a scale of ten. A lot better than the 9.8 of Friday night. Ten is where I say, "take me to the ER for a shot!" Okay, moan it. Maybe whimper it.

Long hot therapeutic soaks are good for a lot of things. Including crafting cunning plans.

As of now, I think I'm on all-Estrella-all-the-time mode. Simon needs armor and clothes; tents need repair (and we could use a new sunshade); Evan needs clothing. Purchases of wool and linen are - due to my dwindling supplies - unavoidable. Simon needs armor and shoes. Fortunately, these things are budgeted-for (yay! for income), but piles of sewing remain.

Therein lies the rub.

I hate sewing at my house. I have no sewing room; I have to take the dining room table for it. And then when one wants to eat (astounding concept!) at said table, or simply clear it off to have it looking nice, all the sewing gear has to be put away, just to be drug out again in a few hours. I hate that. Really I do. It has a thorough dampening effect on all motivation sewing-wise. And considering that - in this house, anyway - the dining table is the computer desk for two.... well, it's inconvenient at best.

But I'm whining.

The pile of sewing remains. Five shirts for Simon (anyone want to "go in" on a linen purchase? IL020, 6.57/yd + shipping), four for Evan (which might mostly come out of linen scraps I have on hand), coifs (again from scrappage), at least three hoods (one for each of us), various cottes and tunics for the guys (fabric needed), and I promised Simon a kaftan lined in PolarFleece for keeping him warm on the way to drum circles. And his brigandine, which I really want to have done by tomorrow night, but can't see how to get it there.

<sighs>

And then there are the necessities of job-hunting and Christmas to attend to.

Which I think prompted this entire line of thought, really. If I'm to get it done, I need to start early. And I'm not sure that December 1 is early enough.

It's time for a list.

Nope, I'm walking like I'm 72. At least I have been.

I've been feeling generally rundown for about a month now, and have attributed it largely to stress, stress, anxiety, and stress. Came down with a fever almost two weeks ago, and thought it might be a low-grade flu bug. My symptoms escalated to very painful wrists, ankles, and shoulders, edemic hands and feet, and profound weakness in my arms and legs. I couldn't wear my rings or my watch; I was limping; I couldn't mouse. By the time I was waking up with my hands "asleep", I was ready to go to the doctor's office.....

( Medical details, repetition and just a little whining behind the cut )

I think I actually slept after three this morning. The rest of the night has been a headache-y haze. We're going to stop taking the big green pills today. We'll see what tomorrow's office visit brings.

[1] Could be gout, but I don't have the burning joint pain. Could be fibromyalgia, but I don't have all the markers. Could be a virus, but I tested negative for flu. If it goes away and never comes back, I don't care. But if this is chronic, a diagnosis means treatment.

Shredded the leftovers and folded into tortillas with cheese. Green chile chicken quesadillas. Yum! There is still shredded leftover, and three more thighs.

Today's adventures in cooking - Green Chili Roasted Chicken Thighs

2 tablespoons butter
12 chicken thighs, with the bones and the skin
3 tablespoons New Mexico green chili powder (mine came from Savory Spice)
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon dried oregano, preferably Mexican (I used a heaping tablespoon of fresh Greek)
kosher salt
freshly ground pepper
whole chipotles (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Melt the butter into a large roasting pan. Mix chili powder, coriander, oregano, salt and pepper in a small bowl; pat onto the thighs and place them skin-side down in the buttered pan. (Optional: lay a whole chipotle - skinned and seeded - across each thigh.) Cover the pan with foil (I used an Exopat) and bake for an hour.

Remove the thighs from the oven. Turn each skin-side up and continue roasting for an additional 25 minutes, until crispy. Serve with rice, buttered grits or a southwestern veggie blend, and warm tortillas.

Rating - fantastic! Nice blend of spices, with just the right amount of heat. I had the ones with the chipotle on top. I will likely bone the remainders and use the meat in quesadillas.

I need a site in the Denver metro area, not for SCA events. Seats up to 20 or so, lets us cook on the premises. Basically free. Suggestions?

Many of my friends know my elderly kitty, Moonshadow. He started declining rapidly mid-week, and when we took him to the vet on Friday, learned that he has advanced kidney disease.

I am heartbroken, of course. His companionship has endured longer than two relationships; he's been my snuggly boy much longer than the short vociferous naked one. He's moved 500 miles with me, and been my unfailing companion when I felt like the world was crashing in on me. He's been my friend longer than anyone. He's got his own LJ tag.

His kidneys can't work well enough to rid his body of toxins, despite daily subcutaneous fluids; we're having to force-feed him in order to stave off the effects of his failing kidneys a little longer. His walk is rickety and he's not able to make it to the litter box most of the time. I'm beginning to see signs of toxin-induced dementia.

Simon has been a treasure; his unfailing patience and gentleness to Moonshadow in his last days are heartwarming and awe-inspiring. He's held him on the way to the vet, given him medicine, and praised him when he peed in the litter box. He pulled Moonie out of the storm drain this afternoon, when the kitty boy wandered in there, presumably in search of water. He uncomplainingly feeds him runny, smelly, messy cat food with a syringe. His compassion and care with my kitty has endeared me even more.

I had intended to try to give Moonshadow back a bit of his quality of life, but 24 hours of treatment has had little effect; the decline persists. We'll do what we can to keep him comfortable, but I think that Monday will be his last day.

I will miss him.

Just when I thought it was safe out there in the big wide world....

We took a load to the storage units this morning. Got into Bigby (the minivan [1]); it was reluctant to start. Finally after fiddling with the key a bit, it cooperated, but S said that it did it to him a few days ago. Hrm. A trend.

From the storage unit we headed east to Harbor Freight for that tarp we wanted - and didn't want to pay $45 for at Home Despot. It was a successful trip; right size, $12.99. Decided that the possibilities for Christmas stocking suffers are myriad at HF.

Next stop: Lowe's for the shower head that I ordered two weeks ago. We detoured to the ARC on Mississippi, puttered there for an hour (found many clothing options for S and E), and were on our way to Lowe's when....

Surprise. Bigby wasn't just reluctant. It refused all fiddling. Just went "click" whenever the key intended to turn over the engine. It was hot. I had to potty. I was not up to thinking about next steps. Lunch had just become an easy decision. It was across the parking lot.

We made some phone calls from the refuge of the Country Buffet, found out that I don't have roadside assistance, and that, yes, Harley would look at Bigby. We ate enough so that supper might be snacks later; had plenty of cool, plenty of iced tea. We screwed up our resolve and without any real confidence, went out to see if we could save a tow charge.

With just a little fiddling, Bigby started.

"Okay, we'll go to Lowe's," I said to S. "I'll go in - you stay with the running car." I didn't want to chance it not starting again; the track record wasn't very good.

Now, Lowe's is only a couple-three miles from Harley's, pretty much the only reliable mechanic I know, and that's due to the McClune's repeat experience with them. We could have taken it to the guys at the corner of our street, but I don't have a lot of confidence in them, and is it really cheaper to have them fix it for $100 if I have to get it done again in a month? (The new shocks they put on it before Estrella didn't do a damned thing.) I decided that Harley comes with a guarantee, and yeah, that's worth the higher cost. S said, "let's just take it to them; we're nearly there anyway," and so we decided on the RTD route home.

We pulled into the very crowded shop lot and looked for a place to park Bigby. Harley was out there - I asked him if I should just park it behind arwensouth  's minivan. He directed us to a spot where it wouldn't be too much in the way if they couldn't get it started, gave us a quote of $300, and we were on our way.

Turns out that the #11 bus connects with Light Rail in a couple of spots. We didn't have any trouble getting home and I was rather self-congratulatory at remembering to get RTD ticket books last week. Those came in handy.

I have $300. I just didn't want to spend it this way. It means that I'm basically broke for the next week and a half. On the other hand, it's time. I haven't really spent a lot of maintenance money on Bigby - just oil changes and tires, and the misspent $350 for the shocks that didn't make it better. So, it's not like I was waiting on it to happen. But now that it has, it has. And I worry what's going to go down the rabbit hole next.

[1] We started calling it Bigby last February, when we packed for Estrella. The name comes from Bigby's Bag of Holding. I know, Bigby didn't have a bag of holding, but the weather was threatening, and precise recollections of D&D artifacts wasn't at the top of my priority list. We unloaded the van onto the ground and the spacial reality seemed to necessitate some supernatural explanation as to how all that stuff fit into that space.

I know - the weekend was days ago. Still....

Sunday was the first time I'd been to the mountains in a long time. We stopped at the supermarket for gas and breakfast groceries, and headed west.....

..... getting far enough to decide that we should have picked up lunch groceries, too.

After a second stop in Idaho Springs, we headed up the Mt. Evans highway. The drive was as usual spectacular. You can tell that snow removal is currently a regular activity up there, and indeed, we saw white-out conditions near the summit as a snowstorm moved in. (The storms later dropped tornadoes out near Parker.) Evan and I did some hiking near Summit Lake. 

I got some good pictures of the locals.


And then we headed down, and to the south.

See, I'd intended since the day before to go to Royal Gorge; my mom said "Mt. Evans". I said, okay - it didn't really matter a lot to me, but once I'd mentioned Royal Gorge, she thought that was a good idea, too.

Turns out that Mt. Evans was a much better destination.

When I was a small child, I remember going to Royal Gorge, walking across the bridge. My mom says that it was free. I don't remember that, and not sure that she does, either. Even so.....

If you haven't been there in awhile, you might want to keep it that way. It's become the victim of exploitative commercialization, now fronted by a theme park run by Canon City. Entry fee? $24 per adult and about half that for Evan. Sixty bucks??? Oh, you could just go to the bridge for a little over half that. Still.....

I stood there looking at the signs in disbelief and muttering, "you could buy a mattress for that". [1] Thankfully it was nearly sundown anyway, and we opted instead to park near facilities and picnic the last of our lunch groceries away.


[1] For the uninitiated, several years ago while shopping for a mattress, we were regaled by a gentleman who had to offer his opinions on the cost of mattresses repeatedly - loudly - before he would agree to the sale. He was going to buy it after all, but not until he'd had his say. We dissolved into giggles when he came out with "A thousand dollars! You could buy a house for that!"