I've Gotta Make Like Elvis Costello and Get Happy! (Computer problems part I)

It was still dark when I awoke, drenched in sweat, gasping for air.  I reached for my cell –  5:30 – not again, I groaned.  Flinging the covers off I rolled out of bed to do damage control. 

 

Giving the radiator a dark look, I kicked myself for forgetting to leave the window open.  Flipping the light switch I flung the dripping window wide and tried to shoo the thick cloud of steam out, and surveyed my room, the sauna. Both mirrors fogged over, the walls dripping with condensation, it looked like I’d just taken a shower.  When I looked over at my MacBook, my heart leapt to my throat.  The laptop was covered with water droplets.

My Macbook is 10 months old, still under warranty, but I do not have the best luck with electronics (or warranties for that matter).  Over the past few months it’s been running slower, taking ages to start up, programs have been spontaneously shutting down, part of the plastic started peeling up for no reason, and various other annoyances, but I need my computer, so I put off taking it in.  I may not be great with electronics, but I am decidedly dependant on them, and losing my computer was not a thought I relished.  Now I may not be the most computer savvy person in the world, but I’m pretty sure that a sauna is not the best place to leave a computer.  It may have been having problems before, but with this incident I was more than a little worried that under warranty or not it a) wouldn’t work and b) they’d refuse to fix it.

Too stressed to sleep I went into the kitchen to make some snickerdoodles, before laying down and trying to slip in another few minutes of rest before my alarm.

Snickerdoodles

Ingredients:

1 1/2 c Sugar

1 c. Shortening

2 Eggs (I use egg replacer)

1 T. Vanilla

3 c. Flour

1/4 t. Salt

1 t. Baking Soda

1T Ground Cinnamon

1/2 c. Flour

• Preheat Oven to 375
• Mix cinnamon and 1/2 c. sugar in bowl and set aside
• Mix shortening, sugar, eggs, and vanilla.  Stir in dry ingredients until well mixed
• Form dough into balls and roll in cinnamon/sugar mixture
• Place balls on pan 2-3 in apart and slightly flatten with hand
• Bake for 8-10 min

Hours later, down at the library, hoping against hope, I took my computer out, and turned it on with crossed fingers.  It started up alright, maybe….Things did not look promising when I turned the computer.  Steam had gotten under the screen, and one corner just looked wrong.  But maybe….

Then I started typing.  The “t,” “m,” and “arrow” keys didn’t work.  

Hours later, down at the library, hoping against hope, I took my computer out and turned it on (being careful to keep my fingers crossed).  My heart caught as the screen flickered on; steam had gotten under it and one corner just looked wrong.  Maybe it would still work though ... if that was all that was wrong, maybe I could live with it....  

Then I started typing.  The "t," "m," and "arrow" keys were all sticking.  I couldn't write like that.

With a sinking feeling I put away my notebook and headed to the Mac store.  Why did this have to happen now?  Right when things were moving forward so well.  It felt as if I had the wind knocked out of me.  I was lost without my computer – I couldn’t blog, give advice, network, volunteer, keep in touch with friends or anything even my schedule was online!  Maybe they could fix it there though, they did just give me a new ipod when my last one broke.  I wasn’t happy about losing a day of work it could be worse.  Mac’s known for their great warranty – they’ll fix it and make it all better.

The “geniuses” at the Mac store took a look at it – corrosion was causing all the problems I’d been experiencing.  It would be $800 to fix.  I was gutted.  The computer wasn’t even a year old, it’s not like this was my fault.  But I was too tired to argue.  I took it home to transfer the last two weeks’ work on my external hard drive. 

I turned opened the book and was greeted with a strange looking circle in three sections.  What was with Mac and their cute icons!?  Was this their version of a biohazard symbol or something?   I had lost two (productive) weeks of work, would have to get them to fix the computer, and knowing my luck, would probably have to replace it again in two months.  I couldn’t live without a computer for the week they’d told me it would take to fix it. 

Growing more panicked by the second, I called J for support and to see if maybe he had an extra laptop I could borrow in the meantime.   No answer.  I left a tearful message apologizing for bothering him at work and telling him the situation.  Okay, I was on my own, I took a deep breath, put my external hard drive in my computer bag along with the Mac and headed back to the store.  Maybe they could rescue the files.

When I got the computer back to the Mac store I found my answer.  Turned out their geniuses hadn’t taken my computer out of target disc mode.  They helped save the files, and I went back to the library to see if I could get any work done, or at the very least find a plane ticket out of the country while they fixed my computer.

Taking the computer apart and putting it together again had fixed some problems, but the “arrow” and “m” keys still didn’t work.  I had saved the files, most of the keys worked, but I wasn’t any further from tears.  Like a broken record, my mind kept going back to the dull, beaten feeling that it had happened again – right when I needed it most a piece of technology it had broken.  Again.   I had to take care of everything by myself.  Again.  In my mind the world piled sandbag after sandbag of unfairness on my shoulders weighing me down, and each new insult added to the prodigious weight.

That evening at the meeting, J tried to hug me, and I took a reflexive step back, “I will cry if you hug me.  Do not be nice to me.” I told him.  It was true, when I am upset I can keep a brave face if I have someone or something to rally against, but if people are nice to me, it’s too much.   And I did not want any part of crying in public.

Poor J couldn’t understand it.  He apologized trying to understand why I was so upset and tried his best to understand.   He hadn’t gotten my message until ten minutes before.  Why was I so upset?  Was it the money?  Was it that he hadn’t called me back?  Was it the time?  But his look told me he thought I blamed him.

“No, it’s not that.  Don’t worry it’s nothing to do with you,” I told him.  Some part of me knew I was being silly, but I couldn’t see the bright side to save my life.  My mind just kept coming back the negatives of the emotion-fraught day.  I just wanted to go home and mope, sinking into a self-pitying slump.  

Depression is one of the most common psychiatric complications in brain injury.  I am thankfully not depressed, but when I am fatigued, the stresses, and complications in life can become overwhelming.  Being faced with losing my computer was a huge deal.  That combined with lack of sleep the night before, my mind the Mac geniuses telling me the warranty wouldn’t cover it, feeling like I was having to take care of things alone, and my brain replaying the day’s worst highlights on a loop of perseveration was too much.  When J called later, I tried to explain what I was going through, but in a hollow sort of way; I didn’t want to talk on the phone.

Just as there are numerous factors causing it there are many ways to break free from depression and perseveration’s self-perpetuating loop.  As with many TBI-related traps, is important survivors let their loved ones know about this.  Self-awareness can be extremely difficult, especially at times like this, so their help and guidance can be invaluable. 

• The number one thing is to make sure you are well rested – a good night’s sleep, or satisfying nap works miracles.  Fatigue is at the root of so many tbi-related problems.  Though we may not like to admit it, survivors do need more sleep, and we pay for it if we don’t get enough.
• Companionship, human or animal is also extremely therapeutic for me in cases like this
• In the same vein, human touch also works wonders  Though I pushed J away when he tried to give me a hug, that was solely because I did not want to cry in public.
• A good cathartic cry is in my experience, an excellent release for tension, stress and way out of the trap.
• Finally, just as I spoke of in the last entry on agitation, I find that distraction works wonders.  An outside party must assist with this, but distraction, (or if you are caught in an actual depression I find travel works wonders) is a good ace to keep up your sleeve

However keep in mind, sleep is paramount.  The other three suggestions will no more effective than band aids on a shark bite if you are not well rested.  However they do work as excellent aids to bolster you when sleep isn’t enough….

Making a List and Checking it Twice

The call came at 4:43 A.M..  The ringer was off, but even on vibrate, the buzz woke me.  I’ve been having uncharacteristically fitful nights since the temperature plummeted and the landlord turned the steam heat on high.  Even with the window thrown wide it’s like sleeping in a sauna most nights.

Who on earth could be calling me at this hour? I thought, darkly.  In a flash, my annoyance changed to fear,  What if it was an emergency?  I snatched the phone from my bedside and checked: my downstairs neighbor.  Lord, what did he want?  I rolled over and let it go to voicemail. 

A moment later it hit me – what if he were locked out?  My brain still on autopilot, I quickly called him back.  He wasn’t locked out, his roommate’s ceiling was dripping.  He described the location – the same corner as my radiator.  Steam heat, was the culprit, and I tried to tell him this as nicely as I possibly could, after having been woken up at 4:30 in the morning. 

Thoroughly annoyed, I pulled my eye pillow over my face, and tried to drift back to s

leep.  After ten minutes, dreamland slipping further and further from my grasp, I threw the covers off, and lurched to my feet, put my hair up, and headed into the kitchen. 

If I had to be awake at O’-dark-thirty, I might as well make use of my time and bake.  A long-lost friend from kickboxing was coming to town the next, er, that day.  I hadn’t seen him in a decade and I’d promised cookies.  If I got it out of the way now, then maybe I’d be able to get nap in before heading out for the day.

With all of the cognitive functioning and dexterity of a zombie, I baked a batch of Apricot Jammies, set them on the counter to cool, and lumbered back to bed.

Well, at least that’s one thing off the list, I thought, putting a checkmark beside “Cookies for T” before crossing it out.  Satisfied, I pulled the covers over my head and slipped quickly into the dreamless slumber of a power nap.

I live my life by lists.  Every morning I have a list of things to get done, who to email, whom to contact, where I’m supposed to be, what I need to bring.  Sometimes I break the list up into things to do, things I need to buy, and places I need to go.  When I need to get things done there’s always a list.  If I don’t get something done one day, no problem, I just cross it off (with no check) and move it to tomorrow's.

Some people like writing things down on their blackberry, iphone, or computer.  As dependent on my computer as I am, when it comes to lists I’m an old fashioned girl.  There

’s something satisfying about physically crossing off an item.  Thus, I always carrying a notebook and a pen. I’m lost without them.  If I think of new things to do - I add them, if I think of story ideas -I write them down, and having a blank sheet of paper is always handy.

By no means do I live every day in a prescribed, regimented fashion, I thrive on spontaneity, adventure, and living by the seat of my pants - the lists are just reminders.  I don't always bother with them either - when I go on holiday, the lists are left behind.  When someone else is planning the schedule, then I have no need for them, but as a general rule they're helpful, and can even be freeing.  I don’t have to rely on my memory so it releases me from the stress and worry that I may have forgotten something.  I still don’t think I’ve completely transformed into a list person, but they certainly are a great asset in keeping me on point and productive.  

Apricot Jammies

Ingredients:

1 c Butter

1/2 c Brown sugar

2 c Flour

1/2 t Salt

1 t Vanilla

1 t Orange blossom water

Sesame seeds

Apricot jam

Directions:

• Preheat oven to 375 F
• Pour sesame seeds into bowl
• Mix butter, sugar, vanilla, and orange blossom water
• Stir in flour and salt
• Form into balls
• Roll balls in sesame seeds and place on ungreased baking sheet
• Gently press thumb into each ball leaving depression
• Spoon jam into depressions
• Bake 10-12 minutes

Shoot From the Hip

The easiest place to get lost is in your own head.

I couldn't stop thinking about that poor abused dog from the shelter.  Seeing such abject terror really shook me up.  That dog did not have fear instilled in her by neglect or some thoughtless act.  No her owners calculatingly tortured, tormented, and broke her spirit.  What kind of monster could stoop to abusing an animal like that?  How could anyone torture another creature so cruelly?  

Injury to my frontal lobe heightened my emotions.  Though it has gotten less frequent, intense, and I have learned to somewhat control it, to this day  I am, on occasion, assaulted with raw emotions of unimaginable intensity.   For better or worse, this paired with the suggestibility characteristic of TBI survivors (frequently survivors will behave as emotional mirrors), has turned me into an emotional sponge.  I can be swept away by others' emotions - anger, fear, or even happiness or excitement.  This does however, lead to moments of painfully intense empathy.

On the way to the potluck my mind kept coming back to the image of the poor thing cowering in the corner of her cage.  But before walking in, I resolved not to let anyone else know about it. Even with my diminished social skills, I'm pretty sure crying at a party is not in the best form. 

In the crowded room I swallowed my feelings and made a concerted effort to shove it to the back of my mind.  I plastered a smile on my face, and tried to socialize.  Flitting from group to group I joked, laughed and tried to keep conversation fun and superficial, being careful not to talk about anything that would touch on any real emotion.  

This lasted for a few hours, before I fell into a conversation with A, the hostess.  A and her husband had moved to the City several years ago from Missouri and their dog was not adjusting well.  Inside he was fine, but he was terrified of setting foot outdoors -the city's cacophony was too much for him.  I was telling her about ttouch healing massage, and how it could help with emotional as well as physical problems.  http://www.lindatellingtonjones.com/whyTTouch.shtml 

A was fascinated.  We moved to a nearby sofa and a few minutes later J came and sat down next to us.   "I tried to talk to you, and you completely ignored me.  You didn't even say hi to me or give me a hug!" he said, in a hurt voice.

I'd been oblivious to any of this, but mechanically got up, gave him a hug, and without thinking, returned to my conversation.  A group of us left together at the end of the evening and as we parted ways, me heading west, the others east, J gave me a perfunctory one-armed hug.

Realization slowly dawned on me.  I had been so focused on socializing, and then on a conversation, that I had not picked up on any hints that J wanted to talk.  I may have increased empathy (of sorts) now, but I still struggle with picking up on social cues.  This is especially true at times when I am preoccupied with something else, or am in a stimulating environments. When I am mindful, and thinking about it, I am a compassionate person and a considerate friend.  Unfortunately because of the injury there are times I can be completely oblivious to other people's wishes or feelings, and be callous, cold, or even rude.  I'm not really sure if it is a good or bad thing, but I've reached to the point where I generally realize what I've done after the fact, and almost always feel badly if it's brought to my attention. 

Wracked with guilt for hurting a friend (however unintentionally) I sent J several text messages with no response, and went to bed miserable thinking about that, the abused shelter dog, and all the horrors of the world.  The next day I sent J a long heartfelt email of apology.  Kindly, he immediately wrote back telling me that he knew me better than to think that I would do that on purpose.  Never the less I was sure to outline how situations like that could be avoided:

It is extremely important that you be direct with TBI survivors.  No matter how put-together they look, there are almost certainly going to be glitches.  Something that you think is obvious may completely escape their notice.  

I haven't found a fool proof method of staying on-point in this area just yet.   Though I can pick up on things most of the time, there are a few big pink elephants that lumber past me without so much as catching my eye.   The best advice I can give is to try and avoid overstimulation, get plenty of rest, and talk to your friends and family about the things you struggle with.   It can be extremely frustrating, but with time you will get better and learn more effective coping strategies, and find what works best for you.

Though I may have felt awful about my behavior at the potluck, the coffee cake I brought was a great success.  My godmother gave me  the recipe years ago, and it is unquestionably the best coffee cake I have ever had, and extremely easy to make.  

Cream Cheese Coffee Cake

Ingredients:

1 c Butter

4 Eggs

1 8 oz package Cream Cheese

2 1/4 c Flour

1 1/2 c Sugar

1 1/2 t Baking Powder

1 1/2 t Vanilla

1/2 c Sugar

1 1/2 T coco powder

1 T Cinnamon

1/2 c chopped Pecans

• Combine 1/2 sugar, coco powder and cinnamon and set aside.
• Grease bundt pan and sprinkle with pecans.
• Cream butter, cream cheese, 1 1/2 c sugar, and vanilla until light and fluffy
• Add eggs one at a time beating well after each
• Add flour and baking powder mixing until well blended

• Spoon 1/2 the batter into prepared pan and sprinkle 1/2 the cinnamon, sugar, coco mixture over
• Spoon about 2/3 of remaining batter and sprinkle with remaining cinnamon, sugar coco mixture
• Top with remaining batter and swirl knife throughout to marbleize.

• Bake 60-70 min
• Cool upright in pan for 15 min

"A Wasted Heart is a Waste of Time"

I was not looking forward to Friday.  We were having the "DTR," (Determine the Relationship talk - I'd have been convinced my friend K invented the term, had it not been for J using it.) I'd promised to make J dinner, so there wasn't really a way I could get out of it either.  

Now the number of people living in Delaware probably outnumbers the world population of people who find relationships easy. Relationships are work.  Period.  Unfortunately, because of numerous factors, initiating, building, maintaining,  and continuing romantic relationships, and interpersonal relationships of any variety can be the hardest thing in the world. Marriages end, friendships dissolve, relationships crash and burn before they even have a chance to start, or worse yet close friends are alienated.

I am very happy for having come as far as I have come in my recovery.  I have regained many of my lost social skills, through observation,  trial and error, stern lectures from friends, and that sort of thing.  After much practice, I've honed my ability to meet people, make acquaintances, and network - superficial relationships.    Sadly, actually cultivating relationships is more difficult.  In relationship building timing is everything and timing is one of the last things for the TBI to relinquish.  Because of this, quite often one of two things will happen; either it will be difficult for me to initiate new topics, and think of new (appropriate) things to say.   In those cases I can appear stiff or awkward (unless the other person talks a lot, in which case I have no problem following their lead).  Alternately I may overshare and tell the person too much too soon and scare them.  

Though I have gotten better about making and opening up to friends, after several bad experiences, the mere thought of romantic relationships now gives me cold sweats, panic attacks, and scares the life out of me.  I can go on first dates, second dates, even hang out for a while, but the dating never seems to turn into a Relationship ... for years bridging that gap has eluded me.  This could be partially because of my tendency to freeze or panic, but it really is more than that.  I don't think about it terribly often, after all, I'm happy with my life, why worry?  It's possible that I may just not be a relationship person, but this is a demon I need to face.  Control your fears or they will control you, and all that....

I'd been hanging out with J for a while, and wasn't really sure what was going on there.  After he kissed me on New Years he made the executive decision that we needed to have a DTR.  As I had promised to make dinner, and he is always taking me to nice restaurants, I decided to really go all-out on the meal.  I unfroze the last of the pesto I'd made a few months ago (I'll post that recipe next time I make it - it's some of the best pesto I've ever had), and pesto puffs.  For a side I made some broccoli with ginger, garlic, shiitake, soy, red wine sauce, and for dessert I made cream puffs filled with rose cream, and topped with raspberries.  I was particularly pleased with how the cream puffs turned out, I had never made anything remotely like that before.

Rose Cream

Ingredients:

1 c. milk

1 c. cream

1/2 c sugar 

1/4 c rose water

4 large egg yolks

1/4 c cornstarch

2 T butter cut up

• Whisk milk, cream, 1/4 c. sugar, rose water and salt together in medium saucepan and bring to a simmer.  Immediately remove from heat and set aside
• Whisk yolks, cornstarch, and remaining sugar in a large bowl. 
• Steadily whisking add milk mixture in slow steady stream.
• Pour back into pan
• Cook on medium-high, whisking constantly, until 160 on candy thermometer. 
• Pour back into bowl, add butter, and mix with electric mixer on medium until butter melts and mixture cools.
• Pour into small bowl, cover with plastic wrap (plastic directly on the surface of mixture).  Refrigerate at least 2 hours.

Cream Puffs

Preheat oven to 350

Ingredients:

1/4 c butter (cut in pieces)

1/2 t sugar

pinch salt

1/2 c flour (heaping)

2 large eggs

1 egg white 

• Stir butter, sugar and water in small saucepan over high heat until at a rapid boil
• Add flour and salt and stir quickly until mixture comes away from sides of pan and forms a ball in the center.  
• Put mixture in large bowl and beat on medium with electric mixer.
• Add eggs one by one, mixing throughly each time.
• Drop mixture onto ungreased baking sheet - I made 8 puffs, but you can make them whatever size you want
• Bake  for 40 min
• When cool break puffs open and fill with rose cream filling

J and I had a nice dinner, a long talk, and have decided to take things super slow.   We will see what happens with that.   Who knows, maybe I'll survive this without a panic attack....

I am really quite curious to hear how other TBI survivors deal with the relationship issue.  I know that I'm not alone in being, shall we say, challenged, in that area, but I would love to hear about your experiences.....

Baking as therapy

Winter has finally sunk its claws into New York, and I don't think there's any hope of a break for months.  A quick summary of recent weather patterns goes a little like this: snow -> freezing rain -> snow -> rain -> some unholy mix of rain and ice (forming bottomless puddles masquerading as deceptively firm patches) -> Cold, cold, and more cold -> fields of ice glazing the sidewalks.  These are conditions that would send even the heartiest grizzly bear running for hibernation.  In other words, this was perfect baking weather. 

Now what on earth could have made me draw that conclusion, and moreover how in the world could baking relate to TBI?  Now, as any one who has experience with TBI can tell you, just as every person is unique so is every head injury.  No two people are affected the same way and no two recoveries are identical.  Much of the time well-meaning care givers will put survivors in standard therapy programs (occupational therapy, physical therapy, speech therapy ... etc).  These therapies do help, don't get me wrong, but unfortunately they aren't always as effective for TBI survivors, and can only take them so far.

For me, the chief obstacle to going further in my cognitive therapy was my anosognosia - I thought I was fine and viewed going to therapy as a waste of time and money.  Thankfully, I was more than happy to participate in other activities (like horseback riding, music, cooking, and recreational therapy) that helped my recovery immeasurably.   While doing research for my book, I was surprised at how many activities can be used to help further recoveries - even playing video games can help!   You just kind of have to find the right thing for you - it doesn't have to be color-in-the-lines standard therapy, either.  Do what you love!  Have fun with it! 

Even before the brain injury I loved baking and cooking, but I think are particularly great methods of therapy, because they provide a sense of accomplishment.   That said, I hated occupational therapist's "home ec" boot camps. Though I definitely needed supervision, (I shudder to say that have forgotten to turn the oven off as recently as this year) I was determined not to take anything away from occupational therapy, and stubbornly relearned how to cook later with supervision from indulgent friends and family members.

Though I'm not really using baking as TBI therapy in the strictest sense anymore, the creativity, combined with the routine makes it a wonderful form of stress relief, not to mention the added benefits of warming up the apartment and making it smell delicious.   Last night's chilly weather spurred me to the kitchen, and after another round of "fun with chocolate" - dipping all varieties of fruit and nuts, I tried my hand at shortbread.  What came out was quite possibly the best shortbread I have ever tasted - five stars for this recipe.  

Children, do try this at home (with help from your parents):

Shortbread

Ingredients:

• 1/2 c. sugar
• 1 c. cornstarch
• 2 c. flour
• 1 pinch salt
• 2 sticks (1/2 lb) butter or margarine

You will need:

• Food Processor
• ungreased 8X8" glass pan

Preparation!

1. Preheat oven to 325 
2. Cut butter or margarine into chunks 
3. Put all ingredients in food processor.
4. Blend until butter is cut through, but not a paste ( a minute give or take 30 seconds)
5. Turn crumbly mixture out of food processor into pan and press down
6. Bake for 40 min at 325
7. Reduce temp to 300 and bake an additional 20 minutes
8. Take out of oven and allow to cool for 5 minutes
9. Cut into squares and allow to set an additional hour or two

Rolling the Dice - TBI and alcohol

The experts agree: people recovering from traumatic brain shouldn't drink.  It's a vicious cycle -TBI lowers survivors' alcohol tolerance.   It enhances alcohol's negative effects, and alcohol in turn exacerbates TBI deficits.  This lovely cocktail (no pun intended) of alcohol and TBI can lead to impaired thinking - poor judgment, memory issues, decreased motor skills, and so forth - basically alcohol's ordinary minuses, but amplified.  In some cases alcohol can even lead to seizures.  

Fortunately this only while people are recovering.  I was straight edge* at 19, when the drunk driver hit me (yeah, how's that for irony, a drunk driver hits a straight edge pedestrian who doesn't drive), so when the doctor told me I shouldn't drink it didn't bother me. 

Unfortunately recovery is a lifelong process and when, years later, I "broke the edge" and started drinking, I still had to deal with TBI-alcohol problems.   If I had problems every time I drank I just wouldn't do it, but this is not the case at all.  Drinking is extremely interesting for me - my tolerance and reactions are so varied that I never know what to expect.  

The vast majority of the time everything is copasetic, some nights I drink two drinks and am pleasantly tipsy, other evenings and I will have 5 drinks and not feel the affect, but I am generally pretty good at regulating it.  However on occasion there can be dire consequences.  One fateful night (last summer) I had two drinks, I felt fine, but half an hour later my memory of the night ends, and I (apparently) ended up vomiting in an obliging closet.  

Now I am one to roll the dice, I don't drink terribly often, but last night I decided to a Matador Records/Insound listening party for AC Newman's (frontman for the New Pornographers) new album Get Guilty.  A friend of mine was organizing it, and I hadn't seen her in ages, besides; I love the New Pornographers.  I took the D train from my Harlem apartment to the Lower East  Side, and Stanton Public, the bar it was at, was easy to find (after having written down step-by-step directions - www.hopstop.com has saved my life on more than one occasion).

I'm not sure if I'd ever been to Stanton Public before, but it is a really cute little bar, and all the better for having an open vodka bar.  I'm not one to turn down a free drink, and when my friend suggested I get a drink, I readily ordered my standard cape cod - it's hard to get a vodka cranberry wrong.  It was a fun night - I got to catch up with a lot of friends I hadn't seen in ages, hear a good album, meet some cool kids, and everybody seemed to like the turtles I brought (like I said, I've been a candy making fool; the caramel recipe makes delicious turtles)

Sorry, no fireworks.  Just a fun night with friends in LES.  I won this roll of the dice.

TURTLES

Ingredients:

• Caramel
  
• 1 pkg dark chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli)
  
• whole pecans

Assembly:

• Cut caramel into pecan-sized squares
  
• Lay out sheet of waxed paper
  
• Melt chocolate in double boiler
  
• Assemble turtles by sticking one pecan onto each piece of caramel
  
• dip caramel/pecan pieces in chocolate.  
• Refrigerate turtles

Enjoy!

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Straight_edge

Trials and Tribulations of the Directionally Challenged

Among the more upsetting side-effects of my head injury is the fact that I am still unable to well, find my way out of a paper bag.  No matter how many times I walk, drive, or travel, even the simplest route, there remains a high probability that I will find myself hopelessly lost.  I have come to accept that I am pathetic at finding places, but it never ceases to amaze (frustrate) me when I find myself lost in a familiar area. I have been living in the City for three years, give or take a little vacation time here and there and 6 months hiatus in Budapest.  In that time I've learned to navigate some parts of the city pretty well, provided they're set up on a grid (forget about downtown).  

 Catherine Deneuve is unquestionably one of my favorite actresses, so when I heard she had a new film out this year, Un Conte de Noel (A Christmas Tale), I couldn't wait.  I made plans to meet up with a friend and see it on Tuesday.  The film was at 6:55, but we were going to meet at 6:30 to get tickets.  She texted me at 5:50 saying she was at a coffeshop at  64th and Broadway, and I told her I was on my way.  Before I left the library (at 40th and 5th) I checked the address of Lincoln Plaza Cinema, where we were meeting (Broadway between 62 and 63rd).  I'd pick up some kettle corn on my way to the theater.

As I stepped outside a harsh blast of wind and snow blindsided me - no beautiful fluffy cotton-ball flakes drifting down here.  This was millions of insidious little flecks of half-frozen ice posing as snow coming at me from every direction.  I quickly put up my umbrella to fend off the onslaught.  Within a few blocks the icy cold wind had blown every ounce of sense out of my head. I could have taken the train, but I'd made up my mind to get that kettle corn - I was determined, I had time, it wasn't that far.  The theater was at 67th and Broadway, wasn't it?

When I reached Columbus Circle I checked my phone to make sure I was okay on time - I'd missed a call!  My friend had called - it was after 6:30!  This snow wasn't helping anything.  Suddenly I was lost - did Broadway go through Central Park?  Surely it didn't stop and start again after - it couldn't!  I'd walked it before.  How did this work again? I walked back and forth trying to figure it out chastising myself for being so stupid.  I would figure it out it- I had to!

Maybe I should take the subway, but what if the train took forever - it was only a few blocks. No, I couldn't give up ... I would find my way there ... I was on a mission!  Finally I remembered that Broadway moved West of 8th at Central Park, I still had time to make it if I hurried.  I lengthened my stride, trying to ignore the icicles forming on my hand clutching the umbrella, and hurried up to the 65 street intersection, where I became hopelessly lost once again.  Where was Broadway on the other side of this knot of roads?  I cursed the hateful street it's twists and turns making me late.  

At last I made it to the theater - Broadway between 66th and 67th.  But wait, was a Catherine Deneuve film really playing at an AMC?  That didn't seem right - wasn't this an indie film?  I double checked the cinema's name - Lincoln Cinema.  That was it, wasn't it?  I walked inside, asked of a ticket to a Christmas Tale and paid for my ticket.  (Great, she'd given me a ticket - this was the right place!)

Shoving the ticket in my pocket I half-ran to towards the theaters.  I was halfway up the escalator before I looked at the ticket: Four Christmases.  What!?  I raced back down the escalator.  By the time I got back to the cashiers I was practically in tears.  They kindly gave me my money back and told me the theater I was looking for was at 63rd and Broadway.  

5 minutes til the movie started - I raced out the door, only to become once again hopelessly lost at the dreaded intersection.  Eyes blurry with tears and snow, I made it to the front of Lincoln Center searching for the cinema, after several failed attempts at following signs I took a deep breath and asked a man hurrying through the snow for directions.  He pointed across several lanes of traffic.  Somehow I had walked past it in my rush to get to the other theater and was now on a completely different street.  

The previews were over and the film had long since started by the time I shamefacedly slunk into the theater, squeezing past people and into the seat my friend had saved me.  

The moral of this story is that a little margin for error is never a bad thing, and for TBI survivors a large margin for error is advisable.  

As for the film, though my opinion could have something to do with the fact that I missed the beginning, I was not particularly impressed.  Though the acting was great, it seemed like the plot was somewhat unfocused and the character development was rather lacking.  It was quite unfortunate.  Thumbs down to  Un Conte de Noel

I went home and made caramel - I've been on a candy making kick lately.    It turned out really well.  Caramel may take time, timing, and stirring, but that just makes it more fun.  I definitely recommend this recipe:

CARAMEL

Ingredients:

• 2 c. granulated sugar
  
• 2 c. corn syrup
  
• 1 stick butter (8 T)
  
• 1 (14 oz) can of sweetened condensed milk
  
• 1 pt (2 c.) heavy cream
  

You will need:

• -Large heavy-duty pan - it is extremely important that you use a heavy-duty pan.  If the pan is not heavy enough the caramel will burn or cook unevenly
  
• -Candy thermometer
  
• -9X13 well-greased pan

Candy Making!

1. Add corn syrup and sugar to the pan.  Place over high heat stirring constantly until well-mixed.  Then stir occasionally until boiling.

2. When at a roiling boil, add the butter

3 Place cream and sweetened condensed milk in a saucepan over medium heat.  Mix well and heat until hot (but not boiling)

4. Add milk mixture in a slow stream to the large pan stirring constantly, then stirring occasionally as the temperature rises.

5. When temperature reaches about 227 start stirring again and watch the mixture carefully (you don't want it to burn)

6. When the temperature reaches 230-235, the soft ball stage, then pour mixture into the greased pan. 

7. Let Caramel cool overnight and cut into pieces.