What happened to my head?
    a) The aliens returned and placed a probe inside
    b) The barber cur it a little too close on top
    c) I am a star in a local reenactment of a great battle in which the cripple always gets shot first
     d) I am having a 72 hour AEEG to try and catch my brain hiccups to figure out if they are seizures

When asked by an annoying woman in the elevator who just stared at me and asked "Oh My God What Happened to You?" I was tempted to go with A. Instead until noon on Thursday I am wired for sound. I wonder if I can tweak these things to get a decent radio station since we live in the last thing to pass as a city before God Forsaken nowheresville. We hit the event button twice, so hopefully we caught something already. Although it would be my luck to wear this darn thing for 3 long days and have a big episode as we are taking the electrodes off. I loved the instuctions that came with the hook up - don't shower while having 28 electrodes attached to you and a battery box recording them. Um, duh! If it itches (if? if? it started itching before she was done putting the leads on!) don't scratch. Right, cause in my sleep I can control that. That is why for sleeping purposes I get to add a snug knit winter hat over top of the ensemble. Do not stick anything sharp under the bandage to scratch your head. No chewing gum because it makes a nifty pattern on the EEG.
The one direction that has me a little perplexed is the fact that I am not supposed to use my cell phone except on speaker phone or text. Apparently the phones can interphere with the wires and electricity. Now I thought cell phones and their electromagnatism were deemed safe, yet I am being told not to put them near my head because they will scramble my brain's electric signals. I may rethink how often I use my cell phone!
The ditz who hooked me up yesterday had a philosophy that tighter was better for wrapping my head. I have deep red marks under my chin from where she put the chin straps. However, like a winter hat that is a size or two too small the bandage slowly crept upward trying to pop off my head. The suggestion from their office of sticking a nylon over it did not seem like a good idea as I have no bank robberies scheduled this week, so my poor mom had the job of carefully removing what was still on my head and then rewrapping the whole thing. Her chin straps are not gagging me so right there is a huge improvement. All the leads are covered and attached, and I have my trusty hat.
Thursday morning my mom has a DR appointment at the same office building where I need to go get fasting labwork done, so I may venture out in my new look to get labs done and then go out for breakfast. Breakfast is the easiest meal to find a vegetarian option in most restaurants. For fun I could decorate my head with stickers, because at this point dignity is a mute point. Thursday afternoon is dedicated to removing the leads (I have a solution to remove the adhesive that is holding them in place) and then washing my hair 3-4 times to get out all of the sticky conductive goop. Thank God I cut off the 11 inches when I did to donate!! I will be using the cheap shampoo to wash that many times and not my fancy organic expensive shampoo.
Until then I am wired for sound and my head is nice and warm!!

It is incredible the difference in my severe, constant, unrelenting nausea since I became vegetarian and nearly vegan (I love honey butter on bagels and there is chocolate). I used to have to take an anti-nausea pill, an acid control pill, and a pill to empty the contents of my stomach rapidly anytime I ate anything. Now I take them as needed. I can go days without needing anything for nausea except for a pill at bedtime. I am actually getting protein into my system again, and vitamins that I was seriously deficient in because I was existing on so little. However, discovering that the key was to eliminate all animal proteins was not made by any doctor. The doctors kept saying that it might be food allergies, or all neurological, or the result of Gollum (the microadenoma on my pituitary gland), or medication effects, or to just wait 3 months and come back (my favorite - lets do nothing and see if anything changes!). I put the pieces together and it seems that for some reason my body can no longer tolerate or process animal proteins. I have gone vegetarian once before, for a summer, and I have been vegetarian long enough now that once again meat actually smells repulsive. I have no moral issue with you eating it, and I am not out to buy vegan faux leather costs more than the real thing shoes any time soon, but I will stick to my meatless barbque ribs. Thank God that vegetarian comes prepackaged and microwaveable because when I developed the issues with animal proteins I did not simultaneously develop the ability to cook. I look at the raw Tofu and other weirdly named vegetarian proteins like Quean (making things up here) and Waegan and laugh because I have no idea how you take that stuff in the package and make it edible. I then move over to the vegetarian chicken breasts marinading in sweet and sour sauce that you microwave for three minutes before eating and am back in my territory. I do have one question though. If we never established what part of a chicken was the nugget, what exactly is a vegetarian chicken nugget made from?

I grew up where you lined your boots up outside the classroom in elementary school and somehow never came home with the same pair. Elementary schools had sleds as playground equipment. I could playoutside for hours in the snow. The worst part of winter and playing outside was always the bundling process, especially when you had a grandparent or parent who thought that anything not covered by at least two layers would fall off. And it would never fail, the moment the last snap was done and the scarf tied you suddenly and inexplicably had to go to the bathroom even if you just went 5 minutes prior.
So I know cold and I know bundling. These skills have come in handy in what I have come to think of as Survivor Woman, Bedroom of Death. We live in an older apartment building that is heated by a boiler system, and my bedroom is as far away from the boiler as you can possibly get. The vents in the living room are closed and it is still warm while my bedroom could serve as cold storage. I half expect one morning to wake up to a few Penguins from the local zoo just hanging out. So each night the challenge is to dress in enough layers to make it through the night without waking up violently shivering and aching from the cold. Layer one usually consists of something like thermal pants, a long sleeve t shirt, and socks. Layer two is then fleece pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Gloves are kept next to the bedside and a hat has been known to make its way into the ensemble. By the time I am done I look like the kid brother from A Christmas Story "I Can't Put My Arms Down". I am also not ashamed of busting out the footie pajamas and even wearing a layer under those.
Hopefully my bundling days will soon come to an end as I finally broke down and ordered an electric blanket. I used to have an electric mattress pad which was wonderful but it was broken in one of my moves, and they are more expensive than the blankets. I just hate spending money on something I will only use for a few months out of the year. Then again, hypothermia sucks.

I am hard wired with an innately oversensitive awareness of justice and a compulsion to correct the injustices. I have been this way since I was a toddler worried about the homeless having to sleep outside on the cold winter nights and the children who had no one to love them. My special passion is for children in need, children cast aside by society, children without a chance, children in desperate poverty, children abused and sold as objects. The problem is that the problems are so big and I am so small. It is very easy to get overwhelmed and think that it is impossible to do anything. I want to change the world, to purchase a house in one of the many poverty and AIDS ravaged countries and take in as my own the children no one wants, to change laws and policies, to build schools and shelters and safe places to be a child. Yet for some reason God has decided that, at least for now, I am not going to be in a position where I have the financial resources or health to do all the life saving, life changing things I would do if only I had access to money. Instead I am at a place where I can change the world in smaller, more personal ways. I can change the world for three little girls. I can occasionally support orphans with special needs at Sarah's Covenant House. I can give a little to Reeces Rainbow so that a child can be rescued from a life in an institution. I can do little things with great passion.I can change who I am to be a more open, responsible, dedicated, unafraid to advocate person and that too can change the world. Simple love can change the world.

I could never write a speech as eloquent, as rich in truth, as powerful as those written by Dr Martin Luther King Jr. He led the way to changing our society and he did it without violence or hatred.
In honor of the day set aside to honor him I wanted to write my dreams for our country and our world, the call to action I would set forth for society were I in such a position to be heard.

I dream of the day when no child dies of the effects of poverty. A day when every child will have enough to eat, clean water to drink, and homes that shelter during the storms.

I dream of a country where health care is a right and not a privilege. Where we recognize that as part of our constitutional rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness we have a right to access medical treatments that will extend our lives, give us liberty, and allow us the opportunity to pursue happiness.

I dream of the day when discrimination based upon disability is vanquished. The day when society will not observe an individual with a disability and automatically come to conclusions about their quality of life, their abilities, and their value. A day when we will be seen for the people that we are and not the disabilities that we happen to have.

I dream of a day when all children from all socioeconomic levels will have equal access to quality education. When children of every race, every nationality, every religion, every ability will sit together in our classrooms and be engaged and challenged by teachers who are supported and properly trained.

I dream of a day when children can just be children. When they will be safe from becoming child soldiers, when they will be protected from the gangs that attempt to recruit them, when they will have the mentors and parental guidance they desperately need. A day when all children can play together without fear.

I dream of a day when all religions learn to respect one another, to honor each other instead of committing horrible atrocities in the name of their God. The day when the unifying message of God is Love is given life and breath.

I dream of a better tomorrow, of a world where everyone has enough, of the end of racism and sexism and ableism, of the innocence of childhood, of peace, of coming together instead of tearing apart. I have a dream.