Where the Oxycodone Is

A reliable source tells me that my little town has the highest rate of Oxycodone prescription abuse in the state. This seemed strange at first. I know that drugs are sold in on Main Street, mainly by 20-something loser types. I've read that legal drugs have surpassed illegal ones in terms of US consumption. Kids steal them from their parents' medicine chest. I don't have to list who takes them and hypothesize how they got them. I'm more interested in the why.

Why do people self-medicate? Alcohol is the choice of many people because it's legal and relatively cheap.
Alcohol numbs the brain so that minor physical and psychic pain are masked. Under a doctor's care, drugs can be beneficial. Anti-depressants, anti-anxiety pills, sleeping pills can be very effective if taken as directed. I keep Oxycodone around for severe pain. Did you ever pass a bladder or kidney stone. Worse than natural childbirth. Just-in-case scenarios include tooth pain before you can get to a dentist, and possibly a compound fracture, although I've never had one.

Drug abuse for psychic pain is another story. I've felt so low mentally that I've sometimes popped an Ativan before I sank any lower. I may do this once in a while, not long enough to become addicted. As I said, I use Oxycodone in moderation, and only to reduce severe pain. I'm lucky though. I have great medical insurance, the support of family and friends, and the ability to "Just Say Sometimes." You have to walk a mile in someone's shoes to understand why they're hurting. I've walked maybe a quarter mile. I don't want to walk any further on that road. I just feel bad for the residents of my little town who've become addicted.

Feeling Gravy

"Be thankful for what you have, and what you don't have."

My yoga teacher says this at the end of every class when we sit in angeli mudra, just before "namaste." We all need to be reminded that there are many things you don't have that you may want but you're better off without them. End of philosophical musings.

Twelve of us sat down to a feast that included turkey with traditional gravy, goose with bourbon-maple syrup sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato fries, mixed vegetable saute and cranberry relish and sauce from the can. Dessert was apple pie with vanilla ice cream and tiramisu. Prior to this, we had cocktails and a myriad of hors d'oevres brought by my friend Doug.

We were an eclectic group, ranging in age from 20 to 89, 7 family members and 5 friends. I did almost all the cooking and my sister and mother-in-law did all the dishes. The fridge is stuffed and we even have food in a cooler on the unheated enclosed porch.

Thank you to my followers.

Moving Back to the Woods

I began this blog in Rhode island where I lived in the woods with family and dogs. Foxes, coyotes, fisher cats, skunks, mice, chipmunks, voles and of course, hundreds of rascally squirrels passed through or nested on our property. The bird life was eclectic and richly colored. Every year a house finch built a nest on the light outside the side porch. Out of the the three or four babies that hatched, perhaps two would fly off, the rest falling out of the nest and scooped up by the nasty next door cat.

Today, I'm returning to the woods with my husband and dog. No more urine odor on the streets, no more alternate side parking rules, no more death-defying rides through the clogged streets of Manhattan. There will also be no more nearby restaurants with great food, grocery stores on every corner, fewer music concerts and other cultural events. We'll miss our NYC friends.

But the country life seems right right now. My husband and I will find jobs, spend a lot less money, and play scrabble instead of going to jazz joints and the latest films. We know people up there, but we haven't established many real friendships. Buck, our big black furry dog, prefers the country to the city. In the city, there's only the sidewalk on which he does his business. Our Upper East Side neighborhood is filled with small yappy dogs that Buck just wants to silence by violent methods. In the country, the dogs are large and usually friendly. There's a big field one block away where Buck can run around and go wild. He's welcome in all the non-food shops and businesses. The house is big enough, and it has a brook running through the back yard. I can walk to the village two blocks away, which includes my bank, the library, my yoga studio, my insurance agent, restaurants, shops, the Post Office, a great bakery, and a small but well-stocked supermarket.

Green acres here we come.

Karl Rove, Surgery, Cloud Atlas, Northeast Regionals, Jazz Piano and Percussion

A note to my readers: Do not click on any highlighted words. They are not my links, but ads that have mysteriously crept into my posts. I'm trying to communicate with google, (grrrrr-oogle) but that's like calling President Obama and expecting to be put right through. If anyone has any idea what's happening, please comment.


To say a lot's happened in the past week is like saying the Pope is Catholic. The Presidential Election was an exciting night for me, Marty and our friend Doug who can recite all the presidents frontwards and backwards. We started with Chinese food but couldn't decide what to drink with it. We thought Scotch would be a stoic Republican spirit.

We surfed through many channels. Marty and Doug were feeling down, but I was positive that we were not going to change horses in mid-stream. I do think Florida should be sliced away from the US and floated out to sea. At least their election officials should be.

At 11:30, someone said, let's check out Fox, which we should have tuned into a lot sooner. That's where where we heard that Obama had snagged enough electoral votes to stay in office. Has anyone seen Karl Rove lately?

The next morning, I was up bright and early for cataract surgery. I once was half-blind, but now I see.

As a matter of fact, I saw Cloud Atlas, the movie, the next day. I've always raved about David Mitchell's book of the same name. The film is nearly 3 hours long, but it's fascinating to watch, with terrific special effects and enough action to make you gasp. Well, to make me gasp. I plan to re-read the book, which I've put a hold on at my local library. See the movie, read the book. Repeat. You'll still be challenged, and the images will haunt you.

Saturday morning, we drove to Madison, CT to see the Division I Northeast Regional Cross Country Championships. Columbia had a strategy the proved highly successful. Running in a pack, their score garnered them 2nd place, sandwiched between powerhouses Iona and Syracuse. My son Mark came in 2nd for his team, running a 30:32 10k The team now goes on to the National Championships in Lousiville, KY on November 17th.

On a final note, we went to see a jazz concert down the road apiece. It was packed, and all donations are going to the local food pantry. The son and husband of a woman I know in our town gave a great concert. The son was featured, playing jazz, salsa, classical and a Beatles tune. His father, who's a jazz percussionist and professor at Bard College, played a piece on his own, and joined his son for a piece he played in a concert in NYC we saw two weeks ago. It was a great night in a great little town we we are moving to permanently this week.

The Word returns to the Woods.

Marathon Brunch

The 26th Annual Fort Greene Marathon Brunch was held today. It was all eating and socializing, not a bad thing. The actual Marathon was canceled at the last minute so there was no cheering along the route a half a block away.

The Brunch began at our house in 1986. Thirty or so people would show up, and we'd join our neighbors on the corner shouting encouragement to the runners. One year, a friend brought her friend Martina Navratilova. She brought her little dog which she had to hold the entire time because our dog Spree would have swallowed her whole. The brunch moved to our friends' house when we moved to Costa Rica.

Last year I ran the Marathon in memory of Dori Brown. It was great to have the brunchers come out and cheer me on.

Next year, we'll have the 27th annual Marathon Brunch, cheering the runners as they pass mile 8 on their way to glory.

Tea Time

I'm still in the Catskills, hoping to return to NYC on Saturday morning since my niece has invited us for dinner. Also, the NYC Marathon is Sunday. I'm not running in it this year but will attend the annual brunch which originated in our house in Fort Greene, and then moved to our friends Sandy and Dianne's (also in Fort Greene) house. This is the 26th year.

We're still prepping the house for the move. I was a little chilled so I made tea in ane English china pot and used one of my grandmother's English china teacups. I used loose English Breakfast tea and had it with milk, like a proper Englishwoman.

The cup is a beautiful ocean blue patterned with gold-leaf fleurs de lis and and other leaves pointing to the center which has peaches, cherries and grapes (or blueberries), a still-life you yourself may have painted in high school art class.

I would take a photo of it but my camera's in the shop and I have no idea how to use the camera on my phone. Maybe Marty will help me do it later.

In the meantime it's birding hour. All this shows that you can be hip in your 20's and 30's and suddenly you're wrapped in an afghan sitting in a rocking chair drinking tea.