Wired For Noise

This morning I checked my email while making the kids breakfast. I had a request for 500 words on breastfeeding and breast cancer, $40, and they wanted it this morning. So I plopped bowls of oatmeal and stacks of pancakes on the table (precooked, then frozen, for fast breakfasts). I filled Saffron’s cup with juice, gave her a pile of her baby poofs and a gram cracker (her favorite). Then I sat down to work.

For two hours I checked sources, read long boring resources, and typed till my hands cramped. I edited, reworded, and counted words over and over again.

The whole two hours was spent with the kids absolutely certain that I had never spent a moment of time with them and that if they didn’t get my undivided attention that very second they would all die. Trey banged his toy computer, the one that beeps and dings, right next to my head. Evan rambled as loudly as he could talk in my ear about Every. Little. Thought. that popped into his head. And Saffron crawled under the table and got stuck fifty thousand times, even though she could get back out the exact same way she got in.

I begged, I pleaded, I bribed. I even yelled. I just needed quiet. For five lousy minutes, just eat breakfast then wander off to play like you do every other freaking morning.

Finally Evan sulked off, declaring that I never, ever pay attention to him and I’m the meanest mom ever. Trey sat by the door sobbing because he couldn’t bang his computer in my ear anymore (to be fair, Trey sobs and cries if a shadow passes over him or the wind changes direction). Saffron stood at the gate I put up and screamed at me for the indignity of being prevented from getting stuck again.

And I got the article done. 498 words, describing ways to detect breast cancer, possible causes of lumps while breastfeeding, and the changes that breast tissue goes through during pregnancy and lactation. Sources were cited, images were chosen, references were placed. Then I hit save. And the entire thing vanished into the nothingness. Not a single word was spared.

They emailed me back, they found someone else who could write it up quickly.

I don’t think money is worth this hassle. Can I just pay my bills with cookies and knitted scarves?

(How is freelance writing sometimes like childbirth? At the end of the day you need a tube of hemorrhoid relief. Ba dun duh!)

photo credit: TheGiantVermin

I’ve sat down to write so many times, and I’m completely at a loss for what to say. I’m writing up a storm here and there, putting together pieces on the best gardening tools and how to clean copper tile and where to find the best local beer in Chicago.

Then I come here, and nothing.

I could splash several photos of the kids across the page. Who doesn’t love seeing cute little faces? Or I could write about how sick I’ve been lately, but I’m sort of waiting until after I see the doctor next week to dive into that mess. Or I could break that golden rule of blogging, never blog about why you’re not blogging, which I guess I just did.

I’m tapped dry of ideas right now. At least, ideas that don’t come with a paycheck attached. My days are pretty boring right now, unless you want to hear about playdates and my failed attempt at a lentil loaf.

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov

My mom calls me from Dialysis today and asks me to come down and run an errand for her. I say sure, load the kids up, and drag them out in the cold to the clinic. I even make them wait with a nurse in the lobby while I go into the back room and see what she needs.

Half awake and looking like a zombie my mom hands me a $100 bill and a folded piece of paper. Silly me, I assumed she must have needed something important. After all, she’s laying there hooked to machines because her own body no longer works right, because she wasted it away with years of drinking and eating crap food. So I’m guess she needs me to go to the medical supply store and get her … something. A bag of freaking diabetic socks or something actually helpful.

Nope.

In the car I open the paper and read the list. Four cartons of cigarettes, a large bag of M&Ms, and some McDonald’s chicken nuggets. Because death just isn’t coming quick enough I guess.

Yeah, its her life. I’ve watched her wasting away for so many years now most of my concern is on the inconvenience of my time. Yes I realize how shitty that is, but honestly its how I feel. Besides, it wasn’t as if we were ever close or had some sort of meaningful relationship. But, it still pisses me off. It shouldn’t, but it does. Being sucked into running errands for her death wish pisses me off. Dragging my kids out in the cold so she can fill her lungs with smoke and her stomach with more candy pisses me off.

And the day I have to drag my kids out so we can bury her, it’s going to piss me off even more.

photo credit: tlindenbaum

When I was a kid I watched Bill Nye with rapt attention. Yes, I was a nerd. I swooned over his big dorky bow-tie and silly ways of making science come to life.

As an adult I’ve fallen in love with Rachel Maddow. A smart, sassy woman that doesn’t let take crap from the pundits makes me grin from ear to ear.

So imagine my glee when Maddow invited Bill Nye to her show to discuss the snow storm. Or, more specifically, “OMG it’s snowing in one place once so that totes means Al Gore was wrong and I slept during middle school science class!!!!”

(Hint: Increased warmer temperatures increases evaporation. Increased evaporation leads to increased precipitation, including snowfall. Increased snowfall leads to increased snow storms. Or, it rarely snows in Antarctica because it’s too damn cold to. Or, yes heat causes snow storms.)

Antarctica is a very big continent. The amount of snow depends on where you are on this very big land. In general Antarctica is extremely dry and there is very little precipitation. The definition of a desert is an area that receives less than an annual average precipitation of 250mm. The dry inland plateau of Antarctica on average only receives about 50mm of precipitation per year, while the relatively wet coats on average receives about 200mm of precipitation per year, both below the definition of a desert. Of course most of the precipitation that falls in Antarctica is in the form of snow. In very rare conditions along the coast rain is possible.

Along the coast of Antarctica it is possible to get large snow falls in a single day. The cold dry air of the interior reaches the warm waters of the coast and adsorb a large amount of water. The sudden warming also causes strong vertical motion in the atmosphere and the water laden air can drop a large amount of snow on the coast. Casey station has recorded 55mm of equivalent rain (fell as snow) in a single day.