I saw my doctor today, which I hate doing but they are so much friendlier about sick calls if I do the well visits. And also, if I go too long between check-ups I start imagining scenarios where a doctor tsks regretfully and says, “If only we had caught this sooner.”

The doctor noted that I seemed nervous, and I paused to reflect on how I really do believe that MY type of responses to things are fairly normal and it’s everyone ELSE who could stand to use a little medication to adjust their responses to reality. It OUGHT to make a person nervous to be wearing only the front half of a nightgown and talking with a fully-dressed near-stranger asking Very Personal Questions, in a doctor’s office TEEMING WITH THE GERMS OF SICK PEOPLE, with the potential for hearing Bad News at ANY MOMENT. A nervous response seems NATURAL and APPROPRIATE.

Anyway. I’m supposed to take my blood pressure somewhere that is not a doctor’s office, because she wasn’t sure she was able to get an accurate result, and the number was high for someone my age. In the meantime, she would like me to cut back significantly on salt. Which, is there an easier way? Amputating a limb, would that help?

I am hoping to collect some salt-cutting-back tips, and maybe some salt-COMPENSATING tips (like, if I’m going to eat too much salt, some ways to help counteract the effects). The most helpful kind of tip is something like this: “I love salt TOO! I used to eat it PLAIN as a child!—okay,fine, sometimes as an adult too. And so when I had to cut back, I thought I MIGHT DIE. But I didn’t, and here are a few things that made it easier / more comfortable.”

As opposed to the kind of tip my late mother-in-law used to give, which was criticism + sweeping scorn + complete lack of empathy, along the lines of: “Nobody NEEDS so much SALT! People eat WAY too much of it! All these PROCESSED FOODS! Why, I cut out salt completely and I don’t even miss it! …No, I don’t use other spices instead! Nobody NEEDS those!”

(See also: Which Pieces are in the See’s Candies Chocolate and Variety Box? and Which Pieces are in the See’s Candies Soft Centers Box?)

I’m evaluating the See’s assortment boxes to see if I like the included pieces enough to be worth saving $4.00-$4.50/pound over a custom mix. The last two have both been no: it made more sense to get the Custom Mix, especially since the Custom Mix boxes tend to be a bit heavier than a pound.

Now I’m trying the Assorted Chocolates box. Here’s the description: “…from Butterscotch Square to Dark Nougat, Marzipan, California Brittle and more.” There is a note that Rum Nougat and Mayfair are temporarily excluded, but there was one of each in my box.

Because one of the things I take into account is that the Custom Mix boxes weigh more than a pound, I’m glad I thought to weigh this box before opening it: it weighed 1 pound 3 ounces, which is similar to the amount the Custom Mix boxes tend to be over (though of course it will vary from box to box). However, then I weighed the empty box (with the wrappers and protective layer and pamphlet inside) and it weighed 3.3 ounces. So that is somewhat less impressive, because that means the chocolate weighs slightly less than a pound.

Here are the pieces in the box:

Almond Square
Butterscotch Square
California Brittle
Caramel
Dark Almond
Dark Nougat
Dark Butterchew
Dark Pattie (2)
Maple Walnut (2)
Marzipan
Mayfair
Milk Almond
Milk Bordeaux
Milk Molasses Chip (4)
Milk Walnut
Mocha
Rum Nougat
Scotchmallow
Vanilla Nut Cream (2)
Walnut Square

Of those twenty types, six are ones I would order for sure. Three are ones I really like but might not think to order, and so would be especially pleased to see in an assortment. Five are ones I think are okay; five more I think are kind of meh. And one I actively dislike and would give to Paul. (I don’t specify which are which, because it’s a matter of personal preference only: it’s not that I think some pieces are objectively higher or lower quality.) So for me, this box was good to try but not as good a value as a custom-mix box.

(See also: Which Pieces are in the See’s Candies Chocolate and Variety Box?)

Last time, I evaluated the Chocolate & Variety Box to see if I liked the included pieces enough to be worth saving $4.00/pound over a custom mix (it used to be a difference of $4.50/pound, but prices have changed again). That one was a no: it made more sense to get the Custom Mix, especially since the Custom Mix boxes tend to be a bit heavier than a pound.

Now I’m trying the Soft Centers box (FOR SCIENCE). Here’s the description: “Includes Lemon and Pineapple Truffles, Bordeaux™, Mocha, Buttercream, Butterscotch Square, Chocolate Butter and more.” Nice of them to mention seven flavors instead of five, but I STILL WANT MORE INFORMATION.

Here are the pieces in the box:

Blueberry Truffle (2)
Butterscotch Square
Dark Buttercream
Dark Chocolate Butter
Lemon Truffle (2)
Light Chocolate Truffle
Marzipan
Milk Bordeaux (3)
Milk Chocolate Butter
Milk Cocoanut (2)
Mocha (2)
Orange Cream (2)
Raspberry Cream (3)
Strawberry Cream

Notice that there was no pineapple truffle, so they must sometimes substitute flavors. I would have preferred more variety: a Raspberry Truffle instead of one of the three Raspberry Creams; a Milk Buttercream instead of one of the three Milk Bordeaux; an Apple Pie Truffle instead of one of the two Blueberry Truffles.

Of those fourteen types, four are ones I would order for sure. Four are ones I really like but might not think to order, and so would be especially pleased to see in an assortment. Two are ones I think are okay; three more I think are kind of meh. And one I actively dislike and would give to Paul. So for me, this box was good to try but not as good a value as a custom-mix box.

I opened the fridge and cupboards half a dozen times this morning, looking with apathy at the various breakfast options. I kept thinking, “I can’t wait for lunch so I can have that leftover lasagna.” After awhile the coffee kicked in enough for me to think, “Wait. I could have that lasagna FOR BREAKFAST.”

Typical breakfast foods have been successfully incorporated into other meals: plenty of people have pancakes and sausage for dinner, or omelets. They might be sheepish enough about it to call it “breakfast for dinner” or “brinner,” but they go ahead and do it. Lunch/dinner foods for breakfast is a harder sell, apparently, and needs to be handled gently. One kind of ground-meat patty on a bread product is WEIRD for breakfast; another kind of ground-meat patty on a bread product is FULLY FINE. French fries for breakfast, are you NUTS? Oh, hash browns! Sorry, I misunderstood!

I had coffee and half a grapefruit with the lasagna.

Tonight I am in a mood where I am suddenly hyper-aware that WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, NO REALLY WE ARE ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE, AND SOME OF US SOONER RATHER THAN LATER. This leads to two simultaneous, contradictory, and highly unpleasant lines of thought:

1. I’m not doing anything worthwhile with my life. I am wasting all of it. Here I am, WASTING ALL OF IT. IT IS ALL POURING RIGHT DOWN THE DRAIN. I need to find something significant and worthwhile to do RIGHT THIS SECOND.

2. There is no point in trying to do anything significant or worthwhile, since we are ALL GOING TO DIE ANYWAY and it does not matter AT ALL if we lived a Significant and Worthwhile Life first.

I medicated by drinking a spinach/blueberry smoothie (I WILL LIVE FOREVER), cleaning my desk (MY AFFAIRS WILL BE IN ORDER), and writing some Postcrossing postcards while eating from a box of See’s chocolates; next I’m going to play some Candy Crush and go to bed early. These things always feel brighter (or rather, dimmer) in the morning.

********

William and I had a really great shopping success this morning. He’d seen an 11th Doctor Who jacket online for, like, over two hundred dollars. I looked at it and thought, “I’mma find that at Goodwill.” And the very first time we looked at Goodwill, we found a jacket that is almost identical, for $4.49. So we are pleased. Now he wants a button-down shirt to wear under it. *rubs Goodwill hands together purposefully*

Edward’s procedure went great. When Elizabeth had her tonsils out, they had me go into the operating room with her; I was dreading this part with Edward, because of how Elizabeth had panicked when they put the mask on, and because I cry at anything dramatic and an operating room is just PACKED with dramatic elements. But this was a different hospital and a different doctor, and one or both of those things meant that I didn’t go into the operating room this time: they wheeled him out of the room where he’d changed into the hospital johnny, and I stayed behind at that point, and to my relief I didn’t cry. He was so calm about it, I wondered if maybe he didn’t realize he was going in on his own—but I asked him afterward, and no, he’d known, but the anesthesiologist had given him her tablet with Angry Birds on it, so he was busy.

When he woke up in Recovery about an hour and a half later, he immediately pulled out the nose-oxygen thing and started pulling at his other wires. The nurse came over and asked how he was feeling, and he said, “Actually, I haven’t had my procedure yet.” When she assured him that he had and it was all over, he was near tears because he said they didn’t have him count down or even tell him they were about to knock him out: “I just BLINKED and I was HERE!” It’s possible he’s forgotten, but I remember counting down from my own anesthesia experiences, and so do Elizabeth and my mom from theirs, so my guess is that they just put the anesthetic in his IV and didn’t mention it to him. He complained on this theme for quite some time, still slurring his words and picking at the tape holding the IV on his hand. But soon he felt better and had some juice and crackers, and then we went home.

I’d expected him to feel pretty bad all that day: the doctor said recovery would be a day or two, and that the first day he’d probably be on the couch with no appetite. I’d brought a bucket in the car in case he needed to throw up, and I’d braced for a lot of whining. But instead he seemed perfectly normal. Maybe he ate a little less dinner than usual, but it was still within his normal range. He was playing and cheerful, no couch time. He mentioned his throat was a little sore that day and the next day, and we gave him ibuprofen for that, and that was it.

Part of it, I gather, is that they switched anesthesia plans at the last minute, from the mask type to the hand-IV type. They usually use the mask type for children, maybe because that’s more comfortable for the child (Edward did greatly dislike having the needle put into the back of his hand). But the nurse in Recovery mentioned that the IV type of anesthetic is easier to come out of.

The doctor says everything looked normal, and he gave us some cool color photos of the inside of Edward. There was one place that showed signs of irritation, but the doctor said he’d had trouble getting the camera there and so the camera itself might have caused the irritation. Biopsy results will be back in about a week, but the GI doctor seems ready to send us back to the hematologist now for the next step.

The prep the day before went fine, too. He definitely needed to be home for it, but we had a happy day (I let him have as much video games and television as he wanted) and he wasn’t very hungry. He ate Italian ice and Jell-o, and he drank Gatorade and juice, and I asked him to list his least favorite foods and I made one of those for everyone else’s dinner (lasagna, in case you were about to feel sorry for us).

I forgot to mention one of my most important preparations for Edward’s endoscopy: I ordered a box of See’s chocolates and scheduled it to be delivered to me the day before the procedure. When I ordered it, it seemed like a mildly good idea, maybe a little silly/unnecessary/impulsive. Today, it seems like THE BEST IDEA IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE.

THANK YOU, by the way, for all the great comments. I’m finding the suggestions helpful, and the experiences helpful + reassuring. The FIRST TIME of anything can be so disproportionately overwhelming.

********

A few days ago, I complained on Twitter that I could NOT find the kind of legwarmers I wanted for Elizabeth, where “what I wanted” was defined as being able to buy them easily from a place like Old Navy or Target, with lots of choices of colors and patterns, for something like $5/pair. I could find lots of special dance legwarmers for ridiculous dance-gear prices, but not what I WANTED which was to be able to buy her several pairs without really thinking about it. I whined at some length, and Twitter was the perfect place for that kind of whining because people immediately started jumping up with sources and ideas. (My mom is intrigued by the idea of making legwarmers out of the arms of thrift-store sweaters; my own sewing skills end at using sewing scissors to snip the tags off of purchased items.)

Anyway, I feel a little embarrassed to say that after all that, I found legwarmers at Target. Just sitting there in, like, three solids and three patterns, plus two FUR options. For $5/pair, just like I asked for. I would have SWORN I’d looked there, but…the evidence suggests otherwise. I bought a pair of cream-colored knit ones with pom-poms, a pair of dark pink knit ones with bows, and a pair of black fake-fur ones.

Elizabeth has not taken the black fur ones off since I got home from the store. She is even sleeping in them. She has a black fake-fur coat that matches them exactly, so she is looking pretty decked out for third grade.

I was heading into the grocery store, and as per usual (except if the carts are wet/snowy/absent) I took a cart in with me from the parking lot—and this time I’d noticed a cart someone had left actually IN a parking space, so I took that one. This gave me a very pleasant hit of self-satisfaction and, as I was enjoying that chemical, I thought that what’s missing from such tasks in general is CREDIT. What I said I like about my FitBit is that I feel like someone is watching approvingly; if there is no deity in your life to take that job, it can be very satisfying to find a substitute.

For life arenas such as shopping carts, what we need are Good Citizen Points. One point for taking a cart in with you from the parking lot, which means your net effect on the cart situation is zero: you didn’t add a cart an employee would have to come outside to collect. You’d achieve the same effect by taking a cart from inside and then returning it inside (instead of to the corral), so you’d get one point for that as well. One additional point for taking in a cart that was loose in the parking lot causing trouble. One more point if that involved going out of your way to fetch it. But maybe take off half a point if you knew people were seeing you be so righteous.

One point for letting someone merge at a tricky intersection. One point for picking up a piece of trash. One point for holding a door. Additional points for any activity that causes you additional inconvenience or discomfort: an extra point for trash that is damper or dirtier or farther away; an extra point for holding the door when it’s freezing out; an extra point for letting someone merge when you’re in a hurry.

Likewise, points can be lost. There are a very few people who have legitimate reasons not to return shopping carts to a parking lot corral; everyone else loses a point. (Parking lots without corrals are a different category.) Leaving the cart in the middle of a good parking space loses an additional point. (People who literally can’t return the cart can gain a point by putting the cart where it doesn’t block a parking space and is at least partially prevented from getting blown into someone else’s car.) Dropping a piece of trash accidentally and not picking it up loses a point. (I am not even addressing deliberate littering. What would be next: figuring out how many Good Citizen Points someone loses for robbing the store?)

You lose a point for pretending not to see someone who wants to merge. Lose a point per minute of tailgating. Lose a point for sighing audibly in a long line.

Ideally these points would be automatically tallied by a supernatural being. Lacking that, maybe those little click-counter things, if those can subtract as well as add? You’d press the button every time you’d earned/lost a point, and at the end of the day you could look at your total. A device similar to the FitBit would upload your points to a computer or phone so you could see your progress over time.

It will be tempting, I know, to start Overdoing the points. I noticed this with attempted additions to the Holiday Card Scoring System: we start out with plus-one point here and minus-one point there, and before you know it’s it’s “What about X? MINUS FIFTY POINTS, right??” No. This throws off the scale. If a behavior generates or subtracts more than a point or two or three, we are leaving the jurisdiction of Good Citizen Points. Perhaps a very few activities might qualify, but only a very few.

It will also be tempting to use points to grade other people’s behavior rather than one’s own. One point lost for each incidence.

I am back from another extremely fun weekend with my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece and nephew, and my sister-in-law’s two siblings. WE HAVE SO MUCH FUN. I highly recommend having someone from your family marry someone from their family.

The problem with having so much fun is that it can feel a bit drab to return to normal life. This weekend we were shopping in a candy store, having white wine at a tavern, laughing so hard I was about two millimeters from accidentally sobbing, and for breakfast eating leftover filet mignon and mushrooms with our scrambled eggs and waffles and candy. And now it is Monday morning and I have eaten a clementine for breakfast because nothing is like filet mignon. I ate it moodily, and resentfully.

Next week Edward is scheduled for an endoscopy/colonoscopy to see if his anemia is related to something intestinal. He’ll be unconscious for it, which is for me the most nerve-wracking part. When Elizabeth had her tonsillectomy a couple of years ago, one of the worst moments was when they put the mask on her face and her eyes went panicky. It’s a mercifully short moment, but it’s challenging to have a calm and soothing parental reaction to panicked child-eyes in an operating room. I might be better at it this time because I am prepared for it to happen—or it might be worse, because I will be anticipating it.

As with Elizabeth’s surgery, my anxiety about Edward’s procedure has found its outlet in shopping-based activities. I took longer than you would think possible in the juice aisle at the grocery store (there is a 3-day prep involving significant juice), selecting sports drinks and juice boxes as if my choices could guide the doctor’s hands. (And really, I think this will go better if the one who went to medical school guides his own hands.)

The recovery time is predicted to be much, much shorter than with a tonsillectomy: a day or two instead of two weeks or more. Still, I wanted to get him a few Prep/Procedure/Recovery Presents.

(photo from Amazon.com)

He recently mentioned a video game we got rid of because it was all scratched up, and I happen to already have a replacement copy of it in the gift cupboard, so that’s going to be one. (Or I might give it to him the day before, when he has to miss school because of the pre-procedure.)

(photo from Amazon.com)

He got an Etch-a-Sketch for Christmas, but it was defective and started leaking grit all over the place. I waited to replace it because I thought the company might do so when I contacted them (they didn’t)—but it’s good I waited, because that’s the perfect toy for someone who is on the couch for a day or two.

(photo from Amazon.com)

We’re also getting him a Webkinz hamster he wanted. Some Webkinz are “basic” Webkinz that just get you access to the Webkinz site; others, such as the hamsters, are special ones that, when added to a basic Webkinz account, give you increased access to particular features/areas of the site.

(photo from Amazon.com)

And we’re getting him the Brain Quest 3rd Grade Workbook. He was very enthusiastic about getting this awhile back, but the kids have had such enthusiasms before and then didn’t actually do anything with the acquired workbooks. A perfect gift for when it might not be a success and it wouldn’t really matter.