Winter Solstice 2016

It's the day with the longest night of the remaining year, which has only 10 days left in it now. I still haven't made any significant effort to do any gift shopping yet for Christmas . . . shame on me. I thought I'd procrastinate yet some more with making another entry. I thought the previous one would be the final one for the year, but instead I'll make it the penultimate one. I sheepishly admit that I woke up right at sunrise (9:15 AM here) on what is already the shortest day of the year. Judging on that, I guess I'm already not too ambitious to do much with the rest of this day. After a copious volume of coffee just to open my eyes, I then finally finished the last stages of piecemeal piddling around with catching up on correspondence, and re-integrating the rest of my digital music library to cloud storage to play with all my Bluetooth devices (whoopy-doo). While doing that, I found some celebratory music for the day. The perfect sort of musical selection I picked out to make a uniquely sort of pagan-esque Canadian celebration of the coming of this solstice day is the progressive rock album 2112 by Rush  (21/12, today's date, get it?). The word "solar" is uttered a few times (in a voice that isn't in Geddy Lee's regular constricted-genitals sounding timbre) within the opening 20 minute overture. It seemed appropriate given that today marks a solar phenomenon.

It makes me wonder, how we (we, as in people like me who are of Northern/Central European heritage) would celebrate this time of year if Christianity, or any of the other two Abrahamic religions, didn't dominate or influence the ethno-cultures of this part of the hemisphere, and we remained true to more pagan beliefs*. The Celtic, or Germanic tribal holidays, like that of Yule (Jul) probably would take over. We've already incorporated so many of those pagan traditions into the Christian Christmas ethos. Like the author Jared Diamond**, I'm a believer in the theory that we are like any other animal: our biology and geography is our destiny. I believe that it would be just an automatically instinctual thing to build on traditions to make things look greener and brighter to counter the dullness, cold, and darkness of the year, to decorate such that it makes things look more alive and life-giving. We'd do what we could to get extra calories and fatten up for the colder season; we'd feast a lot. We'd drink more, play games, and do whatever it took to make more social merriment and fellowship, just like we tend to do now to stave off and slake away boredom and depression through the cold and darkness. I speculate that there would be very little difference in the appearance of the solstice holiday from what Christmas is now throughout these colder, darker latitudes of the Earth. If Christmas, or its precursors, never existed at all, given the environment we are in, we'd be doing a lot to make up some sort of winter festivities in lieu of it.

It also makes me wonder: if attempted European colonization was destined to occur on this continent in this alternate historical timeline, where Christianity wasn't an affixed part of Occidental culture,
would there have been other or better attempts to integrate solstice traditions with the Aboriginal cultures here, with the spirit of that we all live under the same sun, or would those native traditions be swept away like so many others with the rise of colonialism? It makes me wonder what that would look like. The Vikings*** who settled at L'Anse Aux Meadows in Newfoundland around a millennium ago, probably were the closest historical precedent for this paradigm (in this country, if we indeed became a country) in which they were the primary holders of such traditions. However, that didn't go over so well, and no (accurate) written records exist about the process of the settlement. Their colony collapsed: either by famine, disease, or from conflict and hostilities with the indigenous people, who may have eradicated the entire Nordic settlement, or other maladaptive factors, before it could have a chance to thrive and evolve. This sounds like a theoretical element of the PC game Civilization VI to test, play out, and observe.

I explain it this way to my readers who aren't Canadians. Making this land we call Canada a more tolerable and habitable place to endure throughout the winter with festivities has been a natural and necessary thing to do to as a cultural meme for European colonization to have a foothold here throughout this nation's history: from the times when the Voyageurs and Coureurs du Bois established L'Ordre de Bon Temps (the order of good cheer), that is to make provisions for the means for social recreations a mandatory thing by the fur trading companies, to quell the rigours of winter. to hockey leagues and curling clubs, right up to general making a prolonged Christmas season compared to most other nations.

I didn't realize just how deeply Canadian I was, a true product of my environment, until I spent my first Christmas in a tropical country. It was just too weird and unnatural for me to process for that season. It made me feel quite homesick back then. I was getting strange looks and responses from people, who never experienced a day colder than 25 degrees Celsius, as I explained them how much I was missing my sub-zero temperatures, and the snow and frost covered vistas, as I sat on some beach or drank at some outdoor café. I couldn't find a way for it make sense to them, or to myself either for that matter. I really do need my cold and snow for the yuletide season. Winter, as much as I can hate it at times, is just engrained in me that much. It makes me think of the new immigrants, who are coming from mostly the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, from desert, tropical, or more equatorial latitudes who are having the same degree of challenge of adapting to this climate and holiday season.

So, for those who celebrate whatever cultural event or religious holiday amidst or surrounding the solstice season, like Christmas, Hanukah, Aboriginal/Wiccan Solstice Day, the release of another Star Wars movie****, etc., take care, have a blast with it, but also be responsible.

*- I should add that thoughts like these have been prompted by entertaining myself with more than one alternative history scenario with a.) playing the Wolfenstein: The New Order video game, with a storyline where the Nazis end up taking over the world, and b.) re-reading 1984, by George Orwell; though fictional, it's a sobering book everyone should read and to note the parallels that are occurring now with the manipulation of the truth in the media, the end of privacy, and the assertion of a military-industrial complex moving toward totalitarianism keeping us in a state of perpetual war and conflict. 
**- His book, Guns, Germs and Steel, is the best book ever written for a concise overview of cultural anthropology, and global human sociological development and evolution of civilizations: from our rise as homo sapiens, to our continental migrations and colonisations.
***- Watching tonight's episode of Vikings and the debate between King Egbert and Ragnar about Heaven and Valhalla was also a prompt for me to write these thought experiments with alternative histories that model/result in a non-Christian medieval Europe.
****- It's valid to include that. There are a lot out there who (sadly) are going to find a more spiritual experience for themselves watching this modern folklore than appreciating the other traditional holidays.

The 12 Month Random Resolution Game

There has been a long lapse between entries, mostly because there has been so little that has been good or positive, or of any importance to comment on. Four months of this year that I wished to make better have been stolen from me, and I've simply been trying to make moves toward getting back to some sort of normalcy: if there ever was such a thing for me. People who know me know that I've just been trying to work and move towards a full recovery, which has been progressive, but going so slowly in my mind that it has been a real test of my patience. Physiotherapy can be refreshing and relieving on one day, and then torturous on another, as micro-traumas are being worked out of the joints and muscle tissues in my arm. There is some noticeable nerve damage, but thankfully it's only slight. Given what I had going on during the initial days after the accident, things could have easily turned into something much worse. On top of that, I've been depressed and disappointed about the elections down south, and the state of the media coverage used to be corruptive for such an affair already laden with controversy and conspiracy. It was a shameful display all around. The latter third of this year can be summarized in three words - it sucked balls. There's nothing at all about it that I really want to recollect or recount.

Year's End is just 20 days away, and I'm already making plans for trying to have a better go in 2017 even before I attempt any Christmas shopping. I invented a sort game for myself: something that has meaningful projects and acquisition targets set up for me to try and gain for each month of the coming new year. Perhaps it's a flaky idea: one that evolved out of the combined urges of defeating some boredom, wanting to play cards (but no company for it), to play with odds and sort gamble a bit (without staking any of my Christmas shopping funds), and inventing a game of chance where I'll somehow always win*. I found a way to deck my halls with a deck of cards. I am sharing it for those who are also wanting to use it to make a more hopeful and prosperous coming new year.

Materials:

• pen and paper (enough to create up to about 144 slips, plus to write a category list)
• scissors (for cutting such slips)
• 12 sealable envelopes
• a deck of cards, OR alternatively, if you aren't a card player . . .
• a pair of dice, or a 12 sided gaming die (if you are a Dungeons and Dragons geek)

Method:

1. Make a list of 12 categories of 12 things or deeds that you what to have or do during the new year. They can be of anything you want: charitable or selfish, serious intellectual pursuits or something fun and foolish, skill building or talent oriented, material possessions or intangibles, whatever, so long as each category involves things that genuinely go towards your sense of well-being, happiness and life satisfaction. Have them be all affordable within a month's budget, and overall achievable within a month's time, and such that they can be available to have or do at any time of the year. Here's about 12 things as examples that may or may not interest you. (Some of) these categories below aren't necessarily reflective of mine. It's deeply personal thing, so make up your own 12 categories of 12 things to list in each. Strive for 12 things to list in each category, but if you can't, you can repeat some items to make up twelve if practical, or stick to some number under twelve. Some examples here are: 
• 12 career skills you want to build on
• 12 tools/implements you want for your workshop/space
• 12 items you want as home decorum, or things you want to change in your home
• 12 thing-a-ma-bobs you want to collect
• 12 subjects you want to study intensively
• 12 people/places you want to visit
• 12 books you want to read/memorize 
• 12 songs you want to learn to play on your[whatever musical instrument you have]
• 12 charities you want to donate time/money to 
• 12 exotic ingredients you want to sample/experiment with
• 12 restaurants you've never eaten at yet, but wanted to try
• 12 novel liquor ingredients you want in your cocktail bar**
2. Take one category, and write each of the 12 items you listed from that category on a seperate slip of paper. You'll have 12 slips of paper if you've listed 12 items in the category. Put them face down on the table and mix them up.
3. Lay out all the 12 envelopes on a flat surface with the open side up.
4. If using playing cards, take a full red suit out of the deck to use, discarding the king. Shuffle the 12 red cards and place one card, face up, on each envelope. Then, take a full black suit out of the deck, discarding the king. Shuffle the black cards and put them face down on the table. Draw a card from the top of the black card stack. Take one of the face down slips of paper, not looking at it, and tuck it into the envelope with the red card with the matching face value as the black card (i.e., if you draw a black 3, put one slip of paper in the envelope with the red 3 on it.). Turn the red card over, or remove it to indicate that this envelope has been loaded. Repeat the same steps for each draw of the black cards in the rest of the stack. Once all the slips of the category have been put in each of their respective envelopes, re-shuffle each stack of the red cards and the black cards, shuffle and lay out the envelopes again, open , side up, and repeat for the 12 item slips of the next category. Repeat until all remaining category list slips are packed in the envelopes. Alternately, if you prefer handling dice . . .
5. If using a 12 sided die***, arrange the envelopes such that you can visually mark them as 1 to 12 (like the face of a clock, for example). Roll the die and place the slip into the corresponding envelope that matches the number on the die. Turn the envelope over once it gets its one slip. Remember, no peeking at the slips! Reroll the die if the number is repeated, and continue rolling, and filling the corresponding envelopes with their single slip of paper until the slips are gone. Shuffle and redistribute the envelopes again, turning the envelopes open-side up again, and repeat for the slips of the next 12 items in the next category. Repeat this process until all categories are done.
6. Once all the envelopes are filled, seal them and shuffle them. Select one and write "January" on it, select the next and write "February" on it, and so on until each envelope is labelled with one of the months of the year from, January to December****, inclusive.
7. Keep these envelopes in a safe and secure place. On the first day of each month, open the envelope labelled for that corresponding month. Set an alert on your smartphone calendar if you need to be reminded.
8. Start, do, or get the stuff listed on the 12 slips of paper that you find in there. You have the entire month to plan and/or try to commit to whatever is listed on those 12 slips of paper throughout it all when you start on day one, be it starting page one of that book, or collecting materials for a month long project. It would be a good idea to journal your progress, or monitor your interest while you do it. If you failing at it, or if your interest is waning, you get to ask yourself "Why?"

I rationalize things with this betterment/resolution "game" this way. The road to hell is usually paved with good intentions. Resolutions are usually broken because people pile up all their ambitions at the start of the year, which only serves to overwhelm them. Some then drop them within 12 hours of New Year's Day. It's not a good way to practice kaizen - that is small and continuous progressive steps toward improvement. The lesson, if any, that I'm drawing from doing physiotherapy, is that small and continuous steps eventually build up to some more powerful things. Committing to major resolutions, more likely than not, involves throwing one's life out of balance which one is rarely prepared for. I've had enough of life out of balance happening since August - thank you very much; yet I still seek structured improvement for my welfare. The novelty and excitement withers away quickly too when things are over-planned, and there is no chance for surprise and spontaneity.  I hope this strategy is one way to improve upon that. Twelve things per month, be they leisurely or ambitious, amounts to about three things a week with which to reward or better oneself. That's as many times per week as I do PT, and I'm getting results for the better. That sounds enriching and progressive enough for me.

This is also a very deliberate way to exploit stuff that I already have, it's just the element of pacing and time that really is the thing that needs to be adjusted. For example, lots of people have books on their shelves that they haven't touched yet, so list them and use them. The same goes with other stuff that they may be hoarding. This then becomes a practical measure to prevent thoughtless and impulsive spending. I hope calling this a game will perchance draw some kind of fun into the whole process, despite the fact that it does involve some discipline. The cards/dice aspect of it brings in a bit of a mysterious element of divination of sorts. I just like the math and probability calculation of it. It is making a personal lottery where you can (choose to) win every time. All in all, after dealing with the spells of bad luck I've had, my true ambition is just to be somehow happier. We'll see by the end of next December.

Since I have nothing else to reflect on, or share for the rest of this year, I'll only bid everyone happy holidays. I hope that I'll have better things to share for 2017.

*- Because I was playing a video game, and became too frustrated at being stuck at one level with monster robots constantly blowing my head off. A not so productive way to use my recovery time.

**- Unless you are already in a 12 step program with AA, disregard this idea.

***- If using a pair of six sided dice, the last slip of paper left of the 12 in the category automatically goes into the envelope designated as #1.

****- If you would rather devote your time, money, and energy for preparing for Christmas (or other primary holiday month), just simply play this game with 11 envelopes, 132 paper slips, and pull out the red and black queens (if using cards), disqualify the 12 roll if using a die/dice. The parameters are thus adjustable.

Two Weeks Gibbled

I don’t know why I’m troubling myself to write this. It’s not like this is a life event that I’d like to ever remember happening. Perhaps, it’s for the sake of reading it later in the future when I’m going through a rough period of real misery and suffering to remind myself that I have some ability to cope when I’m going through some sort of limbo when dealing with impairment. It’s now 4:51 AM, and I had nothing else to do. I’m sleepless because it’s been a full two weeks plus a couple days without being set in a regular rhythm of a typical workweek cycle. I’m also an insomniac due to being woken by either jolting surges of pain, or failing miserably to find an alternative resting position that has been relaxing enough to have a decently long stretch of recuperative nighttime sleep almost every night since the accident. The rest of my muscles in my neck, shoulders, and upper back are becoming loaded with tension with the exhaustion, and from hauling my defective arm around in a sling much of each day. Maybe the problems are also exacerbated from me being too stubborn and frugal, by not opting for a full and regular dosage of pain medication that I should perhaps be using. I’ve been reluctant to just cut loose to take the pills every time I feel pain and soreness. I’ve been trying to make three days worth of meds stretch out for a week. I’m not fond of how they make me dull-headed and absent-minded; taking away from my lucidity. They also seem to be harsh on my stomach; until recently, my appetite has been poor* because of that. Even though I know I don’t really have an additive personality, I’m not interested in approaching a place where I’d be constantly reliant, or hooked, on using opiates or codeine as a crutch to get me through an average day. The pain has finally at least become more tolerable: at least to a point where I don’t feel I need to bite on a leather belt to ride around in a lurching vehicle. It is tempting to gulp whatever hard liquor I have left around here to tranquilize me and knock me out for the count for some sleep, but I’m not curious as to what it would be like mixing poisons, especially while I’m trying to get my blood chemistry right again. Except for a brief tour of Beerfest last weekend for some small samples, I’ve had no alcohol since my accident.

Before I sat down to write this, I used the past half hour I’ve been awake to check and re-dress the wound site (looks OK), to hand wash my sling and hang dry it, and to piddle around with other light housework that wasn’t too noisy. Inadvertently, I’m also being a creepy security presence for the building. Having a light on behind me, and being this eerie-looking, black robe clad, shadowy figure in the window (as would be seen from the view from the parking lot) has made a couple of hooded sketchy-looking little bastards quicken their step to disappear out of the alley way as they walked past the building at this hour. I filled a glass of water, fitted on an ice pack, and stepped outside onto the balcony, with my housecoat draped sloppily around me. The sky had nothing interesting to display or reveal astronomically speaking, but the air was at least somewhat soothing and refreshing. It’s rich and saturated with the signature smells of early fall. I think about the one with whom I’d like to share this moment with: be it with this same silence, breathing this same air, or else for me to be simply absorbed in the pleasure of listening to her talk. It was she with her good heart and positive attitude, more than anyone, despite the distance between us, who has helped me to focus on better things and helped give me the mindset to endure all this by myself.

I’m trying not to get hung up on the hundred other things that put me in a peevish mindset that I’m encountering with losing full use of an arm while trying to manage everything alone. It’s frustrating not being able to do some things like: entering and driving my car**, flossing my teeth, opening containers, tying shoelaces, or even simply putting on and fastening a regular pair of jeans, or anything else requiring two arms and heavy lifting. I’m trying to think of the comparisons and differences between this spell of long-term recovery time, and the time when I came out of the hospital with impaired heart and lung issues. This ranks as only slightly better: in that my energy and capacity for activity is a lot more predictable, my brain isn’t being starved of oxygen, and it’s nothing from which I could potentially collapse if I strain too hard. If something does snap again, I can at least get myself to the hospital more conveniently.

The issue with my circulation after having the hematoma removed is still a little finicky. My coagulation (INR) numbers aren’t quite right yet; my blood chemistry still needs work on being normalized (normal for me). I’ve been given some extra doses of Tinzaparin injections for the next few days for the time being to treat that. My stomach is going to look like a dart board, with my bellybutton as the bull’s eye. That’s where the injections go, and there is usually pronounced bruising around the injection sites. The palm of my left is still a sickly shade of bluish purple and tender, but the rest of the swelling and bruising along my arm has gone down substantially. There is still feeling and (stiff) movement in my fingers, but I can’t yet pivot my wrist at all. I haven’t dared to try flex arm yet without the doctor’s say so. Thinking about all the bloody craziness I had to go through just to get treated, I’m very disinclined to do anything that would put my progress in jeopardy, and going through the hell of waiting to readjust my blood again, and repeating another risk of a dangerous bout of internal bleeding, all for the sake of preparing to get cut open again because of trying to do some unnecessary and foolish movement.

I realize that my birthday is soon approaching. I hardly think that I’ll be in a celebratory mood for it. I don’t really care to enter and note the beginning a new year of life being at a state where I’m far from the better version of myself. I’m scheduled to have my dermal stitches removed next Thursday, and then getting an assessment and fuller picture of what to plan and adapt for thence.

*- Since the day of my surgery, it wasn’t until yesterday that I’ve really put some effort into doing some food prep. Operating a knife one-handed is a test of my patience for sure. Handling a vegetable peeler and food shredder isn’t much easier either. I managed to make some homemade soup, and dabbled with East Indian food for my supper prep. I was just trying to use up the stuff in my fridge and freezer, but maybe I subconsciously chose to make Indian food to draw some lesson from it, because of the cultural etiquette of handling and serving food with just the right hand. Offering or passing food with the left hand is considered a major no-no. Some street vendors in India, cooking for all the public to see, go so far as not handle or touch any food at all with the left hand while preparing it. It would be bad for business if one is witnessed them touching food with the hand, in their no toilet paper culture, that’s reserved for such personally hygiene ablutions.   

**- I just think that driving with half the physical capacity, while one’s brain is doubly fogged with analgesics, isn’t a very bright idea, even if I could successfully squirm into my vehicle without feeling tortured.

5Q5A: Recuperating

This is for the rest of you who were wondering what happened 11 days ago, so I can settle rumours and not be troubled with having to explain it a thousand times over. Seeing that I’m limited to only typing with one hand, I’m keeping it as a shortened summary in 5Q5A format. It’s also early Sunday morning, at around 3:00 AM. I’ve taken to taken to writing at this hour because I am short of pain-killers to deal with the consequences of the subject in the lines below, and I’m trying to distract myself, and to to divert my energy somewhere else besides attending to pain.

Q1. So what the <bleep> happened anyway?!

A1. While doing a task at work involving moving a load of stuff somehow my bicep tendon became detached, and tore away completely, from the bone in my left arm. I can’t surmise how the interplay between the physical motion I made and the anatomical malfunction worked out for such a freakish thing to happen; it just did.

Q2. How was it all going in terms of pain when it happened?

A2. Surprisingly, when the incident initially happened, considering the nature of the injury, pain wasn’t a real issue. I felt a sharp snap in the crook of my arm, but whatever I sensed immediately after that didn’t register instantly as what I’d recognize as “pain”. I was probably going into shock as I was doing some self-assessing, and realizing what probably happened within the minutes after it occurred. I managed to drive myself to the hospital alone. It occurred at some time between 8:30 and 9:00 AM, and I didn’t get out of the hospital until sometime after 5:00 PM. The idiots back then gave me neither pain killers, nor a sling for my injured arm. Throughout the rest of that day, my pain rating on a scale from 1 to 10 ranked about a three. The morning after though, it was a different story.  

Q3. What course of treatment did you have?

A3. The treatment itself is a matter of simply reattaching the tendon with orthopaedic surgery, but the process was made complicated by the fact that: a.) I had to get a medication out of my system first before they could operate on me, and b.) I was fraught with several delays to get into an operation room, because I became a lower priority in terms of urgency status, and bumped a few times because the timing was such that I was put in triage with a mix of more serious accidents that required more immediate attention. During that time, a hematoma was forming in my arm, putting me in more risk and danger of serious things associated with clotting disorders, like more embolisms, heart attack/stroke, nerve damage, necrosis of tissues/gangrene, and death. Apparently, by the time I had surgery, after nearly a week since the incident, the hematoma that was taken out of me prior to the tendon reattachment was the size of a grapefruit. The procedure itself went well, according to the attending surgeon. I waited just a little over a week to get into surgery, and my recovery started really only four days ago.

Q4. Greatest impediments thus far?

A4. I lost even more range of motion since the surgery. I am not supposed to risk flexing my arm at all for a long time. My greatest challenges are washing and dressing. Amazingly, I’ve managed to find a trick to put in my contact lens. I can’t tie my shoe laces. I tried one afternoon; it took me twenty minutes for tying laces of just one shoe with one hand. The knots were too loose though, and they fell apart soon after. So, I’m dependant on sandals and slip-ons for a while. I’m lucky that I’ve cached away a lot of my leftovers as frozen food: that will make kitchen work easier and economical. It’s too much of a hassle to fumble around cooking right now. Walking the dog when I’m rendered this way is like trying to control a wild bull, but we’re figuring out ways to deal with it. I also can’t drive for the time being. It was a challenge to enter, exit, and steer my vehicle when I had a fuller range of motion just before surgery. Now, I need at least couple weeks of healing before I can do it safely. The rest of the time I’m sure will be a learning experience about new ways of dealing with pain, and trying not to be a victim of my own frustration and boredom with all these new limits placed upon me.

Q5. What are you thankful for?

A5. If I was destined to have such an injury, I’m thankful it was at the end of summer, and maybe I’ll get to heal up before the more severe part of winter arrives. I’m grateful it didn’t occur on my right arm, or else I’d be seriously screwed. I’m thankful for my brothers and mother for availing themselves to help me get some things tidied up, put in order, and made more accessable, and for giving me rides to appointments and doing errands while I’m forced to convalesce. Thanks to the people who helped out to walk the dog. Thanks for the get well wishes from all my other friends and family.

Pre-Surgery

I’m just barely awake this morning: pain, anxiety, and frustration kept me from getting any rest. I'm writing to distract myself from my thirst and hunger. I can’t just take the route of just eating breakfast and drinking coffee to make an effort to liven me up for the day. I’m supposed to be fasting, as I wait for a call to go back to the hospital. A complicated series of events that transpired since last Wednesday have left me in a less than an upbeat mood. I’ve been injured at work, the result being that my bicep tendon has been torn away completely, it least that’s the initial assessment that was made by an orthopedic surgeon. I waited eight hours there before I was sent back home, without even anything practical to use, like a sling, or pain-killers. I could have been in surgery the very day I arrived in the hospital on Wednesday, but things, of course, can never flow that easily. I have to be taken off other medications I use first before they can cut me open, or else I’d just bleed to death. I’ve been made to endure four days of pain, to allow for my blood chemistry to be readjusted, before they can admit me to reattach the connective tissue. In the meanwhile, I’ve been watching my arm swell up, and the skin around the injured area and the forearm sort of chameleonize to weird mottled shades of vermillion, blue, and purple. I was called on Sunday, told to get there for to prepare for surgery that morning. What ended up happening was an almost 10 hour wait in the emergency waiting room, only to be sent home again. It ended up that a couple of other accidents occurred while I was on my way to the hospital, and then as I waited there. The operating theatres became used for these emergencies, and my procedure got deprioritized, and eventually cancelled for the day. I ranted about it on a Facebook post, but I realize how senseless doing that all is. It’s mostly the pain talking. A friend commented that a silver lining has to be found here somewhere. I’m trying to find it.

I arrived home to find Ella very anxious, squeaky, and whiny. She either sensed how irritated and upset I was, or she was triggered by the tell-tale hospital stench that clung to my clothing after nearly 10 hours of waiting there. She has learned to associate that hospital smell with something bad. When my clothes were brought home, without me in them, from the last long stay at the hospital I had nearly two years ago, she went into melt-down panic mode. It was the longest that we’ve ever been separated from each other, and along with the hospital stench the clothes no doubt smelled with, they also stank with my own fear and angst tainted sweat, which made her upset. It has also been disappointing her for the past few days that I’m not allowing her to eagerly charge at me like a bullet to jump into my arms, and to sniff and kiss my face to greet me when I arrive home. She probably feels rejected. As much as I appreciate the welcome, I wouldn’t be able to stand the pain of the impact.

This morning, since 5:00 AM, still aggravated, all I could think of doing was tidying up the place as best as I could with only my right hand and arm, and a semi-useful left hand on an arm I can’t flex without pain. It wasn’t like I was doing anything too delicate or complicated: like threading needles or tinkering with engines. Tasks like changing razors, stocking my shelves, filling the fridge with frozen leftovers, throwing out garbage, folding laundry, and changing fitted bedsheets was enough of a challenge with just one hand and a quarter hand/arm capacity to use. I thought silly things like this stuff should be done before my arm gets put in some cast, and rendered even more immobile and useless.

So, where is the silver lining in all of this? I suppose if I was ignorant about how useful my left hand really was, I’m certainly not anymore. I’ve had a lot of time given to me watching people getting carted in the emergency ward who are in worse shape than I’m in. Something to remind me that my days could be a lot worse. I have that going on everyday for me at work really, but somehow one has to tune it out to keep oneself functional and sane. It sounds selfish, but it’s really a defense mechanism, especially now for the last while as my duties changed over to doing something more analytical. It struck me two entries ago, about how I said how important it was to keep strong and fit if one wants to do well with living in singlehood. I don’t exactly have that going on anymore; having a fraction of my physical capacity now. I’ve been forced to reach out to people I like and trust to ask for help with things: I’m terrible at doing that sort of thing.

I’m not posting this to any of the social media links I’m on. If people really care to know this personal stuff, they’ll trouble themselves to find this entry themselves. I was told that there is a regularly small risk of heart attack, stroke, or death during an operation. Given that I have some precursors that elevate my risks for those things somewhat, I’ll just say that to those who are dear to me, I’ll be thinking of all of you before they put me under. Thank you for being part of my life. I hope things don’t be going from bad to worse, but if they do, I’m going to be taking my memories of you with me.

They'll hopefully calling me soon, time to wrap up and get ready to go. I hope the next few weeks of healing from all this won’t be too hassle-laden and turbulent.

Fermented Spicy Corn Relish

I was just busy trying to be dutiful: clearing some stuff out of the fridge and processing it as best as I can, since I probably wouldn’t be able to do so later in the week ahead, due to some period of infirmity after a surgery. It’s a long story I’d rather not relate here, but currently, I’m impaired with only being able to use one arm soundly, so household chores have been light. I’m just doing half the prep work, and letting microbes do the rest. I’m letting them be my replacement left hand.

I spotted an interesting recipe for corn relish: totally weird and kind of exotic sounding stuff - I like that! However, as pain is already fatiguing me enough to dissuade me from running out for shopping trips, I restricted myself to just using stuff that is already here, thus inventing my own version of it. Perhaps it is a crazily contrived medley: being spawned from the product of both a lack of sleep, and the influence of pain medication. I tried to keep it simple. Be thankful though if you do want to copy and try it for yourself, as it is very rare that I record quantities and proportions when I improvise in the kitchen.

Ingredients

4             Large cobs of Fresh Corn (Maize)

1             Small Onion, finely chopped

½             Cup of Celery, finely minced (include the leaf bits if you want)

1              Teaspoon of Cumin Seeds

2              Tablespoons of Chili Pepper Flakes

2             Tablespoons of Course Kosher Salt

1             Tablespoon of White Sugar

Procedure

1. Use a quart or litre size canning jar that can be fitted with a lid with an airlock fixture. Scald the jar to sterilize it by filling it with boiling water. If possible, turn the airlock fixture upside down, and immerse it in the water of the jar. Leave it this way until you are ready to fill it with the relish mix.

2. Cut away the corn from the cobs into a mixing bowl, add in the remaining ingredients and mix thoroughly.

3. Using a heavy clean implement to crush the mixture to release the liquids in the kernels. Crush it enough to make the consistency look like kind of a very thick mushy porridge. I used a large wooden pestle, but I assume the top part of a meat tenderizer hammer could be used, or else a clean, unopened, tin of soup would work too. Don’t be tempted to use a spoon to taste the mix, and then putting the same spoon back in the bowl of contents. Not only is that just plain gross; you risk contaminating your batch and end up getting something quite different as a result, perhaps like something brewing closer to chicha*.

4. Empty the water from the jar, and begin spooning in the corn mixture and packing it in the jar, tamping it down often to get rid of any air spaces. Fill the jar tightly until the contents are level and are at about 2 cm below the jar opening.

5. Cover the compressed level surface of with 1 cm of boiled water; pour it in slowly. Made sure the sealing surface edge of the jar is absolutely clean and free of residue and debris, place the airlock fitted lid on the jar, and screw it on tightly. Fill the airlock to the halfway level with boiled water.

6. Put the jar in a warm place in the kitchen and allow it ferment for 2 to 3 days. After that, replace the airlock with a fitted lid and store it in the fridge, or divide it into smaller jars and can it via boiling water immersion, or using a pressure cooker.

I would guess that this would be the kind of condiment to be used with burgers, or a grilled chorizo sausage on a bun, or for Tex-Mex cooking, or as something to roll into a burrito, or to blend into a dip. Maybe going into a trance involving more pain-killers will lead to more ideas for uses for it.

*- Here is some interesting, yet useless, fermentation information for you . . . Chicha is a type of maize beer that was made by the ancient Incans, and other Meso-American indigenous cultures. An integral step of the mashing process to make it involved the kernels of raw corn being chewed, spat out, and then collected, as enzymes in human saliva help break down the complex starches in corn into simpler sugars to enable it to be fermented into an alcoholic beverage. I shared this fact once at that right moment while someone was sipping their beer, only to watch it spew out their mouth and nose as they gagged at the thought of this. That alone was pure entertainment right there. Who says history and science can’t be fun?

Hacking Pickling

As I mentioned in my last entry, this weekend was going to be the one where I’d be experimenting

I made pickled eggs too.

Can't waste the lovely dill.

with making my own lacto-fermented pickles. Before I get into explaining the crazy ideas I’ve had to accommodate for this endeavor, I should speak about how my first trial at it last year. It was the trial where I was stifled from a few errors, but I was still able to salvage some good results. The problem wasn’t in the recipe I fashioned for the experiment; it was a problem with the structural form of my pickling vessel. It all amounted to the ability to keep things submerged: any matter that you are trying to pickle and preserve by fermenting absolutely has to stay below the surface of the liquid brine. Otherwise, the risk of contamination by mold is very certain, which will turn the exposed cucumbers into a gross gooey gray mush. This happened to me last year with a few of them. Those that were inflicted by this problem had to be carefully removed and discarded immediately. The ones in the middle of the solution were still green and kept their form, but lacking in crispiness. According to my research sources, they were still edible. To be resourceful, I took these soft ones and ran them through a meat grinder to simply make a tasty relish* (waste not, want not). The ones on the bottom of the fermenter were solid and of good quality. I made another batch of sterile brine though for keeping them preserved in the jars, to avoid another risk of mold contamination by using their native solution.

If the walls of the vessel were straight, like that of a traditional European or North American ceramic crock, the matter could be easily solved by just fitting a weighted ceramic plate over the mass to keep everything below liquid level. Although there is a useful airlock system in my particular crock’s traditional Asian design, it was still not enough to prevent spoilage. The curved sides coming to a narrowed opening on top of it make it difficult to insert anything inside to keep the cucumbers (which really like to float) under the brine. Trying to tightly pack and layer the contents, and interweaving sprigs of dill to sort of bind stuff together didn’t help at all either. Solving this problem needed an innovative solution. Time to doing some hacking for this year’s pickle project . . .


Objective: With using just the minimal of materials around my home, to somehow make a liquid permeable barrier, that can be flexible enough to be inserted through the narrow opening of my crock jar, but yet can be rigid enough, and can adjust and expand across the surface, to hold down contents, and to prevent stuff from floating up and breaking the surface of the brine. The materials cannot include, or contain, reactive metals that can oxidize: which might impart rust/metallic flavours in the batch, or might even make it toxic. I’m restricted to using ceramics, glass, non-metallic earthenware, wood, or food-grade plastic. Taking a coffee break to think on it now . . .

Eureka! After dreaming and digging around, I found my tools and materials. They are:

• A bamboo sushi rolling mat (a bit of a sacrifice, but they are cheap, and I could use a new one anyway)
• Chopsticks (natural wood; no paint, varnishes, or other finishes)
• A round Pyrex casserole dish lid
• A marker
• Pruning shears (with flat jaw)
• Glass beads (at least a kilogram in weight)
• A food grade plastic Ziploc bag

My Hack for Making a Liquid Permeable Fermenter Barrier

The bamboo sushi mat is flexible enough to be inserted inside the jar, but for it to lie flat in there, and to prevent one’s pickles from probing through gaps, it must be made circular. The procedure to do this is as thus:

1. Roll out the sushi mat flat, and place an edged form that occupies the greatest circular areas positioned from the centre of the mat. I found a casserole dish lid, which worked well because it didn’t stain with marker ink.

2. Trace the marker around the edge of the circle to mark where to trim off the superfluous lengths of the bamboo rods of the mat.

3. Use the pruning shears to cut away the corners of the bamboo mat. Be sure not to cut through the binding chord/string running along the middle of the mat. Keep the extra string trimmed from the mat when cutting away the corners.

4. Take pieces of the trimmed string, and poke them through the spaces between the bamboo rods, making certain that they wrap around the middle binding chord on both distal ends of the mat, and one in the centre along the same axis.

5. Trim the chopstick such that it extends across the full length across the middle of the mat, perpendicular to the bamboo rods, leaving enough length for it to extend slightly at each end. Tie the chopstick to the mat with the pieces of trimmed string inserted through the points in the mat mentioned previously. This will make the surface rigid once it is put in the fermenting jar.

6. Sterilize the glass beads by boiling them in water. Drain them, and then place them in the food grade plastic bag. This will be used as weight to place and distribute across the bamboo barrier once it covers the contents. Just before placing this bag of glass beads on top of the modified sushi mat in the fermenter, set it in a colander in a sink and pour boiling water around it to get it as sterile as possible.

There are a few recipes out there for making one’s own homemade fermented pickles. I’m not sharing mine, as I don’t know if mine will turn out yet to be worth sharing. But from all that I read and accumulated in knowledge, I will add a few tips as to what I did with mine, which is supposed to make (at least in theory) nice firm pickles (and no . . . adding Viagra in the fermenter is not one of them!).

1. Begin pickling the cucumbers as soon as possible after they’ve been picked (easier said than done) – I made a mad rush to get to the Farmers' Market as early as I could to get my produce while it was still fresh.

2. Plunge them in ice water before processing them – allegedly this is somehow beneficial to get crisper pickles. I presume it slows down the effect of the enzyme activity in them that can possibly soften them, see next point.

3. Get rid of the blossom end of the cucumbers – while scrubbing and inspecting each of the cukes for defects (don’t use any blemished ones), I take and pare away the blossom end of the cucumbers. Not only does it facilitate the brine to permeate the cucumbers more easily, but the blossom end is full of enzymes that soften the fruit body of the cucumber once it’s taken off the vine. Just lightly paring away the skin from the tip should work; you don’t have to get crazy and peel away so much that it looks like you are giving the thing a circumcision. If you aren’t sure which end is the blossom and which is the stem end, just be safe and trim both ends the same way.

4. Cherry leaves – I “borrowed” mine from a neighbour’s tree, whose branches were sticking out into the alley. Cherry leaves are full of botanical tannins that work like a more natural form of alum, a more refined chemical used in pickling used for making crisper pickles. Leaves of other plants, like grape, oak, and horseradish, apparently work too.

My spices and salt mixed together, plus garlic, cherry leaves,

and most importantly, lots and lots of dill . . .

The Process

1. Boil a large pot of water and then allow it to cool to a temperature that won’t scald anything, but remains warm enough that will allow it to dissolve course salt, and can allow infusion and release the aromatics of the pickling spice blend, garlic, dill, and also releases the tannins from the cherry leaves. It will also purify the water, boiling off any residual chlorine, which makes for better brewing project results.

2. Weigh out the salt** and blend pickling spice mix. I like salty and sour pickles, so a 9 - 10% weight of course salt of the total mass of cucumbers should work.

3. Soak cucumbers in ice water, scrub them and remove the blossom ends (as mentioned above), throw aside any with any blemishes, mushiness, or signs of insect activity.

4. Place the cucumbers in the fermenter in layers, alternating with dill, garlic and sprinkling salt and spices between each layer. Don’t allow the contents to pile up! Make sure that the surface is spread level. The final layer of cucumbers should have no pieces of stems from the dill or cucumbers poking above the even surface. Top the last layer with any remaining salt and spices.

5. Place permeable barrier on top of the contents, and secure the crossing piece of chopstick to secure the barrier in a rigid form. Place the sterilized bag of glass beads on top of the barrier, and spread the glass beads evenly on the top of the surface.

Seems to fit very nicely . . .

6. Slowly pour in the warm water from the pot into the fermenter until it reaches above the bag of glass beads***. No cucumbers should be exposed at all.

7. Put the cover on the fermenter, and add water around the lid, creating an airlock. Gases from the lactobacillus bacteria that are metabolizing sugars and fibre can then escape, while (hopefully) no foreign and harmful strains of microbes will be able to enter and contaminate the batch.

I expect some burbling and burping

sometime tonight.

From there onward, it is just a waiting game involving monitoring, assuring that things haven’t shifted, and the removing any weird looking scum that looks like it doesn’t belong there.

*- This relish + mayonnaise + minced onion + ground black pepper + salt to taste = Awesome homemade Tartar Sauce.

**- Shame on you if you don’t have a kitchen scale, and yet still want to brew things! What the hell kind of chef/brewer/fermento are you?! If your kitchen doesn’t have a scale, I guess you don’t want to be a good one. OK, I’ll be kind this one time and give you a hint: 1 cup of course salt weighs about 250 grams. Shame on you again if you’re still stuck in the Stone Age, and not using the metric system like a scientific mind should, and 98% of the globe already does. I draw the line here, and I’ll just let you figure out the conversions yourself.

***- I suppose you are wondering why I have a bunch of glass beads in my kitchen. Remember Aesop’s fable about the crow that was dying of thirst, who found a pitcher, but the water in it was too low for him to be able to drink from it? So he added pebbles in it bit by bit to raise the water level. Same principle applies here: fluid displacement. In brewing, some recipes leave behind a lot of sediment, which cuts down the volume when the beer is transferred to a carboy. The air space and extra surface area from the diminished volume can risk spoilage of the beer. One can top up the volume with water, but that of course dilutes it, and no one wants that! So instead, dropping in sterilized glass beads into the carboy raises the level and shrinks surface area and space between the airlock without diluting it. That’s what this old crow has learned anyway.