Of traction, attitudes and impatience

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Yesterday, I had my second “conservative therapy” session with the chiropractor. He is trying to create some space in my tightened-up, strapped-down, stiff-as-an-old-ironing-board hip joint, so I’m going in for traction treatments twice a week. It’s not as bad as it sounds, but I’m kind of ouchy from it. It involves lying on a table that moves slowly back and forth. At the far end is an ankle cuff attached to a strong piece of elastic. As the table top moves away from the tether, it creates a gradual straight-line pull on the leg. Returning to position creates slack, and the process repeats. Simple concept, really.

I asked the doc about the chances of my leg coming clean out of its housing. He laughed. Then I asked him if the traction would score me some more height. The conversation went like this:

Him: So how tall you wanna be?
Me: Five-five.
Him: How tall are you now?
Me: Five-two.
Him: That’s a stretch.
Me: I know. A tall order.

Heh. RAT FINK AND DOCTOR S. WHY YOU SO PUNNY?

After the yank-and-crank, I put on what I call electric pockets. They’re electrodes embedded in a soft vinyl housing, covered with a sterile sheath and applied directly to the skin. At the other end of the wires is a machine that controls electrical pulses. When they buzz in, the muscles surrounding a joint contract; when the charge releases, they relax. Feels very weird. Then he does the actual physical manipulation (essentially a deep massage of the afflicted area), which, honestly, is horribly painful. Boo hoo. Kwy me a wivver.

I don’t know if it’s going to work or not, and neither does the doctor. But I like him a lot and have known his family for years. He is good people, and I trust him. If it goes south, next stop is an MRI. But until then–yank, crank and buzz.

I’d like to yank and crank on some of my students. It’s a rite of passage, I guess. Spring fever. Callitwhatyouwill. All I know is that my choral rehearsals are entering the obligatory dental surgery phase. The pre-graduation muck-up. Corpses With Attitude. Delightful, ja? Must I achieve nuclear fission a second time this year? I’m impatient for them to do well. They struggle with believing that I want the absolute best for them. It’s this time of year that my bag of tricks looks pretty skinny.

I’m also impatient for this week to get done. Tonight, the Js come for a sleepover. We’re going to BFF Kay and Bob’s for pizza and to play with Drago, their new puppy. They also have a box of antique toys that Justin and Jake love to get into. Should be a fun evening.

Then, tomorrow morning, it’s off to the Motor City for some long-awaited R & R. And food and video poker. And food.

But for now…off to my last workday this week. I hope the 18-and-under crowd are nice and melodious and happy and brilliant at dinner. TGI Finkday!

Review: Goya’s Ghosts

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Is it possible  to love and hate a movie at the same time? I think a proper summary of Goya’s Ghosts would be that I enjoyed the watching, but hated that I didn’t much care about any of the people in it.

That’s quite a statement, considering the heavyweight cast. Of course, Javier Bardem plays a great bad guy, but in this film, he sort of rides the fence. I mean, if you’re a baddie trying to do good, then let’s establish that. But it seemed to me that he couldn’t really make up his mind. Incongruity is fine, as long as it’s clearly defined, which it wasn’t here. If the director was going for nuance, I missed it. Head scratcher, and an apparent strikeout for the team of Saul Zaentz and Milos Forman, who produced and directed (respectively) tiny, unimportant films like, oh, Amadeus and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

I am not a Natalie Portman fan, and the fact that she played a double role in this film (mother and daughter) meant that I got to enjoy her twice. No bueno. I could say that she brought some depth to her character, but she played a nice girl from a wealthy family, and she didn’t give me much to go on. I’m still checking into the significance of kissing a dwarf’s feet.  ?????

Loved Stellan Skarsgård as Francisco Goya, the Spanish painter. I must admit that I had no idea Goya was deaf. Shows my art history prowess this day. But his character was the only one who really shouted “Care about me.” Thumbs-up to Barnacle Bill.

Particularly sad was the appearance of Randy Quaid, pre-psychological meltdown. He played Carlos IV of Spain.

And then there’s the part I loved: the photography. Absolutely stunning, and instantly made the film worth watching. I almost forgot about some of the groan-inducing dialogue. I laughed out loud at Matt Brunson’s (Southeastern Film Critics Assn.) review, in which he said the storyline becomes “so silly, you half-expect Mel Brooks to show up reprising his ‘Inquisition’ musical number from History of the World Part I.”

HAAA

Now maybe if they’d done that, the movie wouldn’t have slapped leather directly to DVD.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give Goya’s Ghosts:

 

Must…wake…up…

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Some fantastic way to start the work week. Last time I looked at the clock before falling asleep? 12:58. Next thing I know, it’s four hours later and the alarm’s going off. Honestly, people. Need me some protein this morning to keep going.

Still, it was one of the best weekends ever. Had a wonderful show with some top-drawer people, partied (and ate waaaaay too much) with the family yesterday and got to spend some time with the Js. Now it’s back to the old routine (and the diet — no more getting chocolate wasted).

And just so you know, I’m talking to the doctor this week about how long he wants to do “alternative therapy” before suggesting I go to the next level. I know it’s my decision, and I will do this thing sooner over later, but I don’t want to rush. Again, thanks to all my concerned friends for their advice. It is great to have you, and the love of family, in troubled times.

But for now I prepare to face 50 twelve-year-olds, first thing today. They do keep me feeling young at heart, even though the rest of me feels like ninety. Heh.

Hope your weekend was grand. Here we go again…

Creeeeeeak

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That’s how the leg bones go this morning.

But hey, enough complaining. It was a great weekend; my eternal thanks go to the cast, crew, pit and parent and student workers involved in Dinner Theatre 2011. I am once again amazed at how it all comes together. They’re all stars. All-stars.

Now I’m off to the kitchen in preparation for 12 guests for dinner tonight. Baking a birthday cake, then cooking this afternoon with fellow grammie Jane. Fun! I just wish there was one more day in the weekend so I could spend more time playing with the new toy:

 

Thanks to all my fiends who commented on yesterday’s picture post. I am proud of all those kids, even though they make me want to stomp daisies sometimes. Know the feelin’? :-)