boxofdelights

The MRI showed lesions in the ocular region of Nixie's brain. The doctor at that hospital said he thinks it's MS. I don't know whether they have to run more tests to be sure? I don't know much at this point.

They transferred her to another hospital with a neurologist on staff. She'll stay there for three days of steroid treatment. We're trying to decide whether Mungo or I or both of us should go be with her. I'm better at emotional support, but he's pretty good, and also not afraid of driving an unfamiliar car in an unfamiliar city. Also he's a nurse, so better at getting information from medical people.

Tell me what you know about MS. Good resources about living with chronic illness in general also appreciated.

Just sent mail to my daughter:

Cut almost 100 words. Mostly adverbs. Sorry, adverbs.

Young women use a lot of adverbs.

Context is that Nixie is applying for a grant for next year. Her project proposal and personal statement must be no more than 500 words each. They are 700-800 words each. She is too stressed by writing them to be able to see where to cut.

I used to have an image from the endnotes of a scanlation of the first volume of Kaoru Mori's Emma: Kaoru Mori's editor keeps pointing out things that could be cut, and she keeps exclaiming, "But that's the most important part!" I loved that! In the translation that got published in English, she says instead, "But that's very important!" Maybe that is a more accurate translation but it isn't as good.

so today was book group and I mentioned that Nixie has a summer internship with a neuropsychologist at UW-Madison, and my book group friend Barbara wondered whether it was with her college roommate's ex-boyfriend's brother, who is a neuropsychologist at UW-Madison and a really nice guy. And it is!

Nixie is enjoying being at UIUC. She is really excited that she can go to a psychology brown-bag (where someone presents their research) every! day!

Living in a strange place is uncomfortable, still. It's too humid to run during the day; she's thinking about taking a self-defense class; she'd like to make friends, but that's so easy when you're just dropping by other people's already-full lives; she doesn't have internet at home; one of her roommates never stops talking.

Since a lot of what he doesn't stop talking about is how wonderful he is, I thought maybe this was his sad idea of how to impress girls, but he does the same unstoppable monologue with their landlord, who is a man, and the landlord doesn't deal with it any better than Nixie. I know Captain Awkward had a column on this. Do any of you have it bookmarked? Or do you have any strategies to try?

I forgot to tell you guys that Nixie is living at home this semester. None of the classes she wanted were being offered Fall semester, so she decided to make herself an internship instead. She's working for a psychology professor here at CSU, taking EEGs of people looking at pictures of faces.

She also got a job as a busboy at a family-owned breakfast and lunch restaurant. They seem to like her: they've got her waiting tables and running the cash register as needed. Her purple hair really stands out though. She could use some advice on how to tell people not to put their hands in your hair when you are in a customer service position and they are the customer.

Said beautiful daughter came back from Belize and went almost immediately to Portland, but before she went, she got a second opinion from a neurologist, who doesn't think she has a seizure disorder.

Mungo won the Patrick Gilmore award, which his high school gives to its outstanding freshman music student. It's kind of a big deal.

I can't decide whether to tell my mother. Naches are a gift, you know? And people who look gifts in the mouth shouldn't necessarily be expecting to receive more. And in my last phone call I mentioned that Nixie has planned out her entire three remaining years at Reed, because she wants to take all fifteen Psych classes Reed offers and enough other things to fill an extra major or two, so she had to get permission from a prof to take a senior-level class next semester, but that was easy because it was the same prof who wants her to TA for the class she just finished.

And my mother said in this oh-dear voice, "Do you think she'll go on to grad school?"

And I said that although I thought it was silly to expect a college freshman to have chosen a career, Nixie was planning to be a neurobiologist, as she has since tenth grade, so there were necessarily going to be lots more years of school after Reed.

And I tried to keep my irritation out of my voice, but I must have failed, because my mother said, "Well, I'm just concerned for her. I don't know what she can do with a bachelor's degree in psychology."[*]


And this is a common occurrence in my conversations with my mother. About this time last year, I remember, my mother asked how Nixie's graduation went. I said it was fine. She said, "Didn't she graduate?" as if that were a natural followup to what I said. Yes, she graduated, with honors, from her honors IB program, with a National Honor Society tassel on her graduation cap, which she wore to her graduation. Which you would know if the cognitive dissonance you experience at anything good being produced by me had not erased that information from your brain.

It turned out that what she wanted to talk about was my awesome nephew's graduation, which she got to attend because my sister invited her. Still. "Didn't she graduate?"

[*]Recognizing this as concern-trolling makes me grateful to you, and you, and everyone who has made up my online social life. Vocal conversations are too quick and too ephemeral for me to understand much about what just happened there. I've learned so much about human interaction from written conversation, which sticks around to be studied, and especially from other people's comments on written conversation, which names concepts like "concern-trolling" and pins them up for study.

So my daughter and I were making zucchini bread (delicious!) in my new silicone loaf pans (I love living in the 21st century!) and I said, "You mix the dry ingredients and I'll do the wet." And then I said, "The sugar was supposed to be a wet ingredient, actually."

And then I wondered why that is. Because the sugar would clog your sifter if you were using one? Because the sugar mixes better if it gets to dissolve? Those are just rationalizations, aren't they? Do you know the real reason?

Snow! and lots of it! PSD schools were closed today and yesterday. Unfortunately, CSU didn't close until the afternoon, so I had to drive Nixie to her math class. There was a quiz, and Nixie isn't doing well enough to skip it.

The math class -- it's basically the second half of Thomas's Calculus -- is surprisingly difficult. Not because of the material. After the lecture on partial differentials Nixie said she had paid attention, but still didn't understand what they were. So I got a vase and a marker, and drew parallel lines on the vase from base to lip. "This is y=0. y=1. y=2." Then I took a toothpick and surfed it up and down one of the lines. "The partial differential with respect to x gives us information about how x changes while we hold y constant." I put down the toothpick, picked up the marker, and started drawing circles around the vase. "This is x=0."

"Okay, I get it," said Nixie. She glared at how obvious it was. "She's such a bad teacher!"

"No," I said, "I'm such a good one." But I think Nixie is right. Her teacher is really not good at teaching.


About the house: I thought I could have at least a virtual housewarming party this weekend, but no. The plasterer will probably be done sometime next week, and then I can move in. This weekend, I am using Samhain's energy to finish things at this house.