blind insight

A head start on the remodel.

Steve and I spend a lot of time whining about our tiny kitchen. We constantly concoct new and different remodeling ideas, most of which quickly are scuttled by the reality of our annoying space and budget constraints. The house is a tri-level, so expanding into our enormous backyard would require foundation work and multi-level design issues that send our anticipated costs well into the realm of "when we win the lottery."  The realistic alternatives mostly involve sacrifices of both dining room space and living room walls that currently house important furniture, like the chock-full china cabinet.

Lucky for me, I married a structural engineer, and after months - years even - of thinking and scribbling, he eventually came up with a design concept that will open up our itty-bitty kitchen space, provide more counter, better cabinets, and superior style and organization, without leaving the house dining-roomless or china-storage-free. The downside: we can't afford to do it with a contractor, and we can't afford for Steve to take the time off to do it himself. Thus, kitchen remodeling remains the stuff of dreams, or at least of Five Year Plans.

This week, it comes a little bit true. We woke up on  Saturday to an eerie quiet. Further investigation revealed the silence to be caused by the refrigerator, which was decidedly not humming along. Worse still, we'd clearly missed its demise by many hours, as things long-frozen were nearly thawed.

Most of what we salvaged is either packed into coolers in the garage (making the impending arctic chill here a huge relief, after the weekend's balmy days), or stashed in my parents' basement freezer. We've thrown ourselves at my parents' mercy for a couple of dinners, and will be going the pizza route tonight. Hopefully, the new fridge will arrive on Thursday, as promised.

But the upside, of course, is that we're getting a brand-new refrigerator! While it won't be a Subzero, it'll be pretty close to the Dream Fridge we'd planned to put in the hypothetical future remodeled kitchen. It's going to be gorgeous - all shiny and new and clean and efficient. A big freezer on the bottom! French doors on top! Adjustable shelves! Antibacterial glass! And even an ice maker!

My glee at this prospect has been so apparent that Steve accused me of sabotaging the old fridge. I swear, I didn't. But at least there's a very shiny silver (actually, titanium-finished) lining to this large and extremely unexpected expense.

Speaking of unexpected expenses with potentially positive consequences, we also discovered last week that a pipe below our upstairs toilet has been leaking into the drywall in the downstairs bathroom. Fearing four-digit repair costs and massive water damage, Steve called the handyman we've used for stuff at our rental property. He ripped open the wall today, found and fixed the leak, and repaired the mold-riddled drywall, for a total cost of $180. Seriously. 

Steve got to chatting with the handyman about our kitchen fantasies. Turns out, he can do most of the stuff we'd need for the remodel. At a fraction of the typical contractor costs. And fast, too - he and Steve figured it would take them about two weeks, working together.

We're thinking early '08 might actually be within the realm of reason . . . .

Another day older and. . .

Well, not exactly deeper in debt. Deeper in goodies, though, particularly a long-awaited little slice of musical wonderfulness! By the time my birthday rolled around, I'd been whining about the iPod for so long that Steve probably got it for me simply to earn some peace and quiet. But from the moment we learned, while selecting my CI device, that I could connect the processor directly to an iPod, I wanted one.

Back in the early '80s, when mobile music became ubiquitous, I had a Walkman. I used it a couple of times, but could hear at all only with my hearing aid switched to telecoil and cranked its loudest, which left the music nearly overpowered by a persistent buzzing. Later, I tried a portable CD player, with the same results. Plus, I couldn't use earbuds (because, um, my hearing aids were in there), and the regular headsets had to be perched on my microphones to allow me to hear - an awkward, and incredibly dorky-looking proposition.

So the personal portable musical device,  it just wasn't happening. Which meant that after I stopped driving, about 10 years ago, I also stopped regularly listening to music in any kind of purposeful way. I had a CD player in my kitchen for a while, and would play some tunes while I cooked or baked, but that was it.

I come from a family of music lovers. I've always been the odd woman out, with my toneless voice, inability to understand the words of the songs, and lack of opportunity for focused listening. But I, too, love music, and have long regretted my inability to listen more often, and hear better.

So when the audiologist showed me the special cord that links the CI to a personal audio device, I immediately started pushing for an iPod. After all, I told Steve, if I had to undergo surgery, recovery, and months of learning how to hear again, I should at least get some music out of it. I was sort of hoping it might appear in the form of an anniversary gift, but the extra months' wait only added to my enthusiasm when I finally unwrapped it.

My brother installed a few songs on it, I plugged in my special gizmo, and (after I figured out how to turn up the volume), it worked! Not only could I hear the music, I could understand the words. The sound quality was excellent, and the music sounded surprisingly "right" to me, since I keep hearing that CIs don't process music well. Because the music is going directly into the CI, there's no interference from environmental sound, yet with the special program my audiologist installed last week, I'm still able to hear external sound as well as the iPod. It's incredible.

Steve and I worked into the wee hours last night sorting our music collection and debating which discs were worthy of occupying the Nano's 8 gigs of memory. Hopefully, it won't take us too long to complete the process of moving all that music. We've acquired a car adaptor, too, ensuring an impressive soundtrack for our Christmas roadtrip to Wisconsin.

Happy birthday to me!

I tried to make a list of some important lessons and experiences from the year I was 35. Then I tried to make a list of the things I am looking forward to for 36. Unfortunately, most of them involve subjects I have deemed officially Off Limits for blogging. Perhaps, as the year unfolds, I'll be able to bend that rule a bit.

'tis the season.

Once again, the stores are decked out in green and red and tinsel and bells. My mailbox is exploding with unsolicited catalogs, and my credit card bill is aching under the combined weight of birthdays and multi-denominational gift-giving celebrations. I need to bake, shop, and bake some more, pronto.

Usually, around this time, I get cranky. The barrage of CHRISTMAS from every corner wears at my mood and triggers decades-old irritation and resentment. But this year, I'm sort of feeling immune to it all.

For one, we've done the bulk of our holiday shopping already, thanks to the screaming deals we found at the semi-annual GoLite warehouse sale and a weekend day on which we were both too sick to play outside. But more important, I think, is the fact that Christmas is now a part of my life.

Fortunately for me, Steve's version of Christmas involves very little Baby Jesus and a whole lot of good cheer, good food, and great gifts. I had a wonderful time celebrating with the Freiburger clan last Christmas, and I'm truly looking forward to this year's trip. (Also, we'll be driving the Volvo all the way to Wisconsin, which adds an extra layer of adventure to the experience. Just think - Nebraska! A whole new state to add to my travel resume.)

I still feel a few pangs of ambivalence when we put up the tree in our house, and I certainly bristle against the ubiquitude of Christmas in our streets, our shops and - most aggravatingly - our schools. But, by marrying Steve, I acquired a new set of traditions and celebrations, and I think I've finally come to accept, and even love them.

After all, Christmas (as we do it) is about gathering with family and friends, eating favorite foods, and sharing with each other gifts selected with love and care. And what is Hanukkah about (at least as we do it)? Just that, as well.

Almost history.

My oral argument last week was an historic moment in my legal practice:  My panel consisted of three women judges. In ten years of practicing, and five of regular appellate arguments, I've never had more than one woman judge on the bench before me. Even when I was clerking, the most we ever had was two, when my judge sat with one of the two other women then on the Ninth Circuit. Further, my opposing counsel for this week's argument was also a women. I found myself almost giddy with excitement over this unprecedented - for me - experience.

On the morning of the argument, the lawyers gathered in the courtroom. It turned out that my opponent and I were the only women arguing that morning. Alas, it also turned out that one of the judges had a knee injury and was unable to travel to Denver, so would be participating in absentia.

Still, it was thrilling to see only female faces before me as my argument proceeded. Perhaps in another five years, such a panel will be so common as to be unremarkable.

Normal (nearly).

My six-month testing appointment confirmed what I've known for a while now: I'm hearing GREAT.

I got all the sentences right in quiet (except for the one I spaced out on halfway through). I got a whopping 97% correct with background noise, and I even understood 50% of the sentences in which the speaker's voice was only 5 decibels louder than the background noise. This is, apparently, right around "normal." And considering that I understood exactly 0% of sentences with my right ear, pre-implant, it's pretty incredible.

I'm hearing so much, so well. I'm constantly amazed at how much more and better I'm able to hear and understand. Movies, television, the radio, my friends and family, judges, colleagues, and more. For the first time, I've discovered that people everywhere are having fascinating conversations about really personal stuff, oblivious to the people around them (like me!) who can hear it all. I've also learned that people have really annoying, loud conversations on their cell phones on the bus, in cafes, and on the streets. I had no idea there was so much free entertainment being offered!

Every once in a while, I find myself in a situation in which no sensitivity-setting reduction or other adjustment improves my ability to hear and understand. A recent happy hour fell into this category, as did a recent court function. The downside of expecting to hear so much better, even in background noise situations, is that when I can't, I'm even more frustrated and disappointed than I was before the surgery. I hope these circumstances remain few and far between, and that as I continue to progress, they will become ever rarer.

At Thursday's appointment, my audiologist gave me a program for the Ipod I'm hoping will be among my birthday gifts (hint hint). Listening to music regularly will be a fairly new experience for me, and a new test of the CI's capabilities. I expect to have more to say on this subject soon.

A new friend, a new inspiration.

My mom and I threw a party for everyone who contributed to our winning VisionWalk effort. I was skeptical when mom floated the idea, but it turned out to be terrific. People were so thrilled to be thanked in this personal and festive way, and it provided us with a great opportunity to get a broad cross-section of friends and acquaintances together. We intend to make this an annual tradition, and would love to entice some of our far-away supporters to join us next year.

In addition to our contributors, my mother also invited a couple of folks from the Foundation Fighting Blindness. One of the local volunteers brought along Michael Stone, whose blindness is caused by a related, but somewhat different retinal degenerative disease from my own. Michael just completed his sixth Ironman in Hawaii. He lives here in Boulder, and we discovered that we've done many of the same training events and races over the years. He's much faster and more competitive than I am, of course, but we still found it rather amazing that we'd never met before.

Talking to Michael was a first for me. I know other deaf people who do the same activities that I do, and we've shared tips and tricks and laughs over our unique needs and experiences. But never before have I talked about climbing, skiing, and triathlons with a fellow blind person.

Michael and I commiserated about the incredible challenge of sighting (and swimming in the right direction) in open water. He has some adaptive techniques he's mastered, which he promised to share with me. We talked about cycling - how to train alone, safely, and how to ride in races, safely, and how we can't go downhill fast (at least not safely). We talked about climbing, his first love, and a sport he gave up when he was diagnosed with his visual impairment. I encouraged him to climb again, with Steve and me and our friends, since he indicated that he'd stopped climbing in part because his partners weren't able to accommodate his changing needs and abilities.

As those of you who've been reading for a while know, I'm terrified about losing more of my vision. Michael, I think, sees somewhat less than I do, at least as far as his central vision is concerned. And yet, he's doing the things I want to be doing (and at a much higher level than I am). He's living fully and independently and actively.  Meeting him has given me both hope and inspiration.

Plus, he's a great guy, and we're all looking forward to getting to know him better.

I'm sorry.

Really, I am. I've been busy and distracted, and have had dozens of posts rumbling around in my head that I simply haven't had the brain power, time, or energy to compose and post. I had hoped to report that my blogging slackitude was the result of my dedication to cranking out a novel, but I gave up on my NaNoWriMo efforts about 8,000 words in, when a combination of factors converged to leave me too tired and unmotivated to write for fun, after hours.

However, as penance for my neglect, and in honor of my 36th (yikes!) birthday next week, I'm going to write a whole bunch of posts RIGHT NOW, and set them so that you get a new one each of the next seven days. Perhaps this will jump-start my blogging engine.