Knitting in the Shadows

More Fun than is Fair

I know that some of you will read this post and think that I've clearly gone over the edge.  I haven't, I assure you.  You need not call any handsome young men in white coats to come fetch me and take me away.  Nor need you acquire one of those lovely self-hugging jackets for me. I'm okay.  Really.

Even if it does sound weird to have me say that I've now spent enough time looking at individual vertebrae that I can tell you what part of the spine a given bone has come from, and that I find that delightful.

Of course, part of that may be because our instructors have shared some very silly hints with us.  The top two vertebrae are actually pretty easy.  They're very distinctive, and don't actually look that much like the rest. 

Theres the Atlas, for example.  It sits at the VERY TOP of your spine.  It's notable for being pretty flat, and having three holes in it:

(Pic from the medical dictionary online).

 

The AXIS comes next.  It's claim to fame is a little knob at the top.  That knob is kind of what lets your head rotate back and forth...

 

Our friends over at Spine Universe provided this image, which shows you the two, one atop the other.

But the rest of our little vertebral friends... well... they start lookin' like critters.

I'm serious!

Even our instructors say so....

You don't believe me do you?

Well... take the rest of the cervical vertebrae for example.  This one here is the seventh cervical vertebra, as originally shown in Gray's Anatomy, and offered for our viewing pleasure on David Darling's Encyclopedia of Science.

 

I see that, and I think....

anteater! *1

No?  you don't see it? 

How about this one?

<

*2 Can you see what I see? Does this one help?

I don't know about you, but I see ....

 

Or this one?  This is a lumbar vertebra as shown to us by the University of Maryland Medical Center.

I'll bet you can't see the moose in that one...

But try this view from Living with Back Pain.org.

C'mon. Admit it. You see the moose.

 

See.  Bone study can be fun!

It is entirely possible that I would not think it as much fun had I not aced my bone QUIZ today, and if I hadn't come out of the Bone Practical feeling confident.  In fact, the bone practical could have been awful -- there were just individual bones sitting on the table with little numbers taped to them.  We had to identify what ever the bone was -- take for example, the vertebrae above.  Or ... say...

an arm bone. (yes, but which one??).

I can't tell.  Do I just love being back in school and learning things? Or is it learning about the miracles that are our bodies that is so exciting?  Or.. is it simply that by studying Massage Therapy, I've gotten myself in a place where at least some part of my body gets a massage every week?  Nahh... that wouldn't explain the fun of being able to identify most bones (excluding individual hand and foot bones) even without them being in situ.

Have I, in fact, gone over the edge?

 

*1 thanks  to Gallery of Birds for the pic of the anteater

*2 and thanks to Science Tutor. infofor the first Thoracic vertebra shot

*3  thanks to the African Wildlife & Vacations Guide for the Giraffe

* thanks to Outback Taxidermy for the shot of the moose.

Sneaking it in under the Wire

You may recall that I sort of run Seasons of Lace...(with help of course).  Well, the season ends tonight...(it is after all the Equinox, which some call Mabon).

I finished Stars Over Fairy Lace in the nick of time... with mere moments to spare ...

so, you get one not very good shot to prove that it's off the needles.  Tomorrow, I'll try to get some GOOD pictures.

Scotland -- Castle Life, Up Close and Personal

When last you saw us, we were hanging out in the lobby of our first hotel, which was originally the home of the Scotsman Newspaper. The Scotsman Newspaper people were very tony, evidently.  Their main building was quite elegant.  Even the elevator looks impressive:

The main entrance to the old newspaper was in what is no the restaurant.  That carved wood stuff is really in play there:

And it flirts heavily with the vaulted ceilings:

But that's not what I wanted to show you today.  We left this grandeur, and piled into a taxi (whose driver was absolutely delightful, by the way).  Soon, we were motoring through the countryside, passing hard by those wonderful hedgerows you read about in British Mystery novels, as well as cruising past lovely billowy hilly pastures with cows and sheep and such.  Lots of sheep.  Lots of cows.  Lots of lovely.

My favorite sheepfold was one we passed by on the road to Borthwick:

Note the lone black sheep.  She (he??) really was the only black sheep in the field.  And while these lovely creatures were very curious, looking at me with interest on the day we walked past this field, they were not particularly friendly.  No sheepy faces were presented for scritches here.  Just up the road, however, was a pasture with several horses, all of whom did com up for scritches.

Here, we see the castle that was to be our home for two days just appearing in the distance:

It's off to the left there, past the lovely little church.  I'm afraid I've forgotten the name of that church (having failed to take notes since I was so very sure I'd have gotten all this posted long before  now). 

The road into the castle actually looks quite inviting doesn't it? (And off ot the left in this shot, you can see one of the friendly horses).

But, when you get past those trees a bit, you notice that this particular castle is really more imposing than inviting.

There are "lovely" stories about those two towers.  They'll give you a flavor of the folks who built this beastie in 1430.  Evidently, when they had prisoners, they tended to put them to death.  In an "effort" to be "fair" or perhaps "generous," they offered prisoners an option.  They'd take them up to the top of one tower and if the prisoner could leap from one tower to the other successfully, they'd let the fellow go free.

Of course, the prisoner would shackled with his hands behind his back.  And with a ball an chain attached to his ankles.  And would not be given a running start...

And.

Well, they'd have a veritable forest of pikes at the bottom to catch those who fell.  As if this isn't foreboding enough, they'd leave the fallen on those pikes as a warning to any who approached.

The folks at Borthwick Castle are much much friendlier now.  As you come 'round the side, it's not quite as forbidding...  This leads to the back way out,

And this lovely garden would be lovely for a picnic (well, if the weather were a little less "soft" and a tad warmer.

But it remains true that one has to climb the stairs of an old stronghold to get into the main hall.

That wee door just at the top of the stairs there goes into their office.  It has the only internet on the premises (and the lovely manager allowed me to check my email twice a day while I was there.  Thanks to her, I was able to correspond with the director of the Massage Therapy Program I'm now in, and get back to her in time to ensure that I did, in fact, get into the program).

Once inside we were greeted by a charming charming lady, who swiftly sent a fellow to haul our luggage up to our room.  While I'm not usually one to feel comfortable making someone else haul my suit case around very far, I was grateful to escape hauling my case up to our room.  These stairs were the only way up...

These stairs are another element of this castle that demonstrates that it was designed with defense as it's number one priority.  You'll note the clockwise curl as you go upward.  That is because the residents (and the guards) slept upstairs.  If an enemy had managed to breach the walls, and actually get into the building, they'd have to go up these stairs to reach anyone of importance. That would mean that their sword arms would be hampered by the narrower side of the stair (and that stone post), while the defending guards coming down would have free use of their sword arms on the way down.

One thing that you can't see here -- the stairs aren't even.  If you're battling your way up, you'll trip now and then on a short or tall stair.

And the defense system continues right up to the bedroom door!

Golf pro is not standing on a step or anything here.  And he's not a great towering fellow either.  At 5'8", he's likely not appreciably taller than most of the folks who built and lived in this caslte.  So why is the door so short?  No, it's not because this room was originally occupied by hobbits or children.  It's so that invaders would have to stoop to get in, and defenders would thus be able to lop their heads off before they even got into a chamber door.

Now, this wee tiny room (which you can see in the back ground) was not the room we'd reserved and pre-paid for.  It was quaint and cozy, and had all the amenities you'd want except space.  But we'd actually reserved a nicer room.  Why then, is Golf Pro standing beside that door with an occupier's air?  Because we encountered one of the risks of staying in small venues with only a few rooms. 

Evidently, the folks who had stayed in "our" room the night before had flushed something inappropriate down the loo.  When it didn't flush readily, and in fact the loo overflowed, they neglected to tell anyone.  Apparently they did this several times (perhaps in the hopes that repeated efforts would get whatever the offending item was to escape through the pipes).  Thus, the management did not know there was a problem until the folks had long since checked out and departed.  The repeated flushing meant that the folks on hand were unable to restore the loo to functionality, and a plumber would be required.  But it was mid-Friday afternoon by this point.  No plumber would be available until Monday.

Our hostess apologized all over herself. She was so very embarrassed to have to put us in that room (in which a staff member evidently stayed most of the time).  They started their compensation for the trouble by giving us a lovely bottle of wine with dinner.  The wine was so good we took it's picture so that perhaps some day we can have another such bottle.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Before we sat down to dinner, we sat in this grat room, sipping tea and then enjoying a before dinner drink (neither of which made it to our bill).

To take this picture, I stood in the minstrel's gallery, through which one passed to get to our room. As you can see, the fireplace is lit.  Yes, it was August.  But yes, the fire was a very good idea.  It never gets hot in a building whose outer stone walls are four feet thick.

And yes, that fireplace is as enormous as you think it is.  Only the tallest fellows need duck their heads when they go in to put more wood in that fire grate.

Dinner was exquisite.  Again.  And for breakfast, they rearranged the room to look like this:

Still embarrassed by having put us in a room that wasn't what we'd been expecting, our hosts upgraded our breakfast (from the continental one that was free, to the hot breakfast with lovely eggs and bacon and such) for free, and then, for our second night, upgraded us to the best room in the house. 

My next missive will include a bit more of this edifice's fascinating history, some bucolic views out the window, and a last look around Edinburgh before we headed out to Perthshire.

Scotland -- Our First Castle

As you may recall, a month ago, I was ambling around Edinburgh, enjoying the soft weather and the glorious views of a magical city.

We were wandering uphill toward Edinburgh Castle when we passed...

which, as it turns out, is a restaurant and not a shop or museum or tourist attraction.  I'm told it's a very popular restaurant.  Alas, we did not have a chance to find out.

Eventually, we reached our goal for the day: Edinburgh Castle

Note the stands on the left?  That's where thousands sit every night to watch the Tattoo.  Personally, I think they look weird, and hope that they're pseudo temporary (the way the traveling Cirque du Soleil "tents" are), and that they come down after the Festival is over.

Coming up the side, it looked like this:

Again... icky stands...

These two fellows guard the entrance through the "main gate".

 

Once you pass them, you go through the gates, and face a cobbled pathway up the hill.  At this point, any illusions you may have harbored about hills not being good defense systems will dwindle away.  Try imagining a laden horse struggling up this cobbled road (either bearing a knight in full armor or hauling a wagonload of goods).  Heck,they even "paved" the road differently in the middle to make it easier for the horses!  You'll see some of that in a minute, but first I got distracted taking pictures through the walls looking OUT. 

This slit is great for firing arrows through without exposing yourself to incoming arrows, but it sure would be hard to AIM looking out this way,

 

It's much easier to see through the camera lens, using it's magic zoom trick:

Okay, I confess, I am a sucker for gorgeous views that demonstrate that I'm on a high hill.  I live where we have so little topography that you can draw our topographical maps with lines showing five foot increments!

But c'mon!  look at that view! (Yep... off in the distance, you can see the Forth of Firth again.)

Looking the other way, we again see some familiar landmarks.

and yes, I totally used the zoom.

But let's get back to the Castle shall we?  We lucked out in our timing, as a guide was just gathering a walking tour as I finished my obligatory scenery shots.  He's my source for the cobblestone information.

Just because you made it into the gates doesn't mean the hill isn't still in play. As you can see, we've some climing to do before we get to the main buildings up there.  Down here.. there are buildings still in use for the Scottish Armed Forces -- including barracks.

Our guide was a veritable encyclopedia - he knew the dates for the construction of every building there, and for all sorts of significant events.  I, alas, did not take notes, and don't recall the details.  Those signs in the back ground of the last picture do reveal some of that info, but so does the official site for the castle, and wikipedia.

Edinburgh Castle's history starts in about 600 AD, with the stronghold called Din Eidyn.  The defenders there lost to the Angles in 638, when it got the English name of Edinburgh.

The oldest building on the site is a cathedral built in early in the 12th century in honor of Queen Margaret of Scotland, who died in 1093 and was sainted in 1250.  You can see it there on the left -- along with the differences in the cobblestone surface of the road we're about to climb.

After a sort of general lecture (including the dates when the gate we'd just entered had been built, and information about the newer buildings (behind me in that picture) housing the Scottish Military, we headed up the hill into the keep.

Again, note that smoother section of cobbles in the center of the road -- it's supposed to make it easier on the horses, and to make the carriages roll more smoothly.  Ponder for a moment, what it might feel like riding up that hill in a carriage that does not have nice rubber wheels on it.

ahem.

Where were we.

Among the historically significant things we saw was the room in which King James of Scotland was born to Mary Queen of Scots in 1566.  (Okay, at that point, he was Prince James, but when she fled, he became King).  James is important.... but that room wasn't terribly visually interesting -- they've not furnished it as a display, and thus it makes no interesting pictures.  In the ante-room, however, I found the mantle over the fireplace to be very interesting:

It's fairly typical, as it turns out.  The male and female figures on the sides crop up all over the place  While I suppose some would argue that they're Adam and Eve, they seem more pagan than that to me.  Either way, we also get the famous Lion and Unicorn, who appear in any number of Scottish Royal places.  Why? you may ask?  Because the Lion represents England, and the Unicorn represents Scotland.  They appear together in places significant to King James IV of Scotland (born right here in Edinburgh Castle)-- who acceded to the throne of England in 1603.

The Castle is home to the Crown, Sword and Scepter of Scotland (also known as the Honours of Scotland).  They languished in England until 1707 when Parliament past the act uniting England and Scotland. Thereafter they were brought to the Castle and pretty much locked away for a century.  In 1818, Sir Walter Scott was allowed to search the casle for them, and he found them in a chest in the room where they are now housed on display.  No pictures are allowed of the Honours -- or of the Stone of Scone (pronounced "scoon"), which is housed beside them.

The Stone is an unprepossessing but highly significant hunk of red sandstone.  Every king of scotland since Tara, and (almost?) every monarch of England since 1296, has either sat directly upon the stone, or sat upon a chair/throne under the seat of which rested the stone when he or she was coronated.  The stone was returned to Scotland in 1996, among much pomp and circumstance.  (Later in my trip, I will meet Lord David Penry-Davies, who witnessed the parade which carried the stone up the Royal Mile).

There is a Key to the Castle. I find this endlessly amusing.  But they keep it on display.  Whenever the reigning monarch comes to the Castle, they present her (or him) with the key.  The key is kept on a cord upon which there is also a brass tag engraved with the date of each monarch's visit.  The current Queen of England has visited more than a few times during her half-century reign.  Two of her tags are legible in this picture -- and since they're strung sequentially, we can tell that she's visited at least six 
times.

 

Also in the hall housing the Key to the Castle are many swords worn by various defenders of the castle over the years.  They seem more impressive when I stop to think that these did not start their lives as decorations, but were used in actual defense (and possibly offense), and it is likely that each and every one of them was used in actual battle, where someone was at least seriously injured.

We did stop into the Chapel (a lovely private thing, which can seat about 20 people, and where small weddings are still held). But I had run out of photographing foo (and it wasn't terribly photogenic).  But the building in which I was most moved was the Scottish War Memorial.

This is the side view, coming up the hill.  It looks more like a cathedral than a memorial, but the stained glass windows are not of saints or events in Jesus' life; they're representatives of the various branches of the Scottish military.  When you enter there is a wide hall with large books set on what looks rather like the widest dictionary stand you'll ever see.  Each of those books contains a list of the servicemen and women from a given branch and division of the Scottish military who has died in service from the time of the "Great War."  Each identifies the fallen soldier's name, rank, hometown, and date and place of death.

I've been to a number of memorials in the U.S. I've walked along that black wall listing the names of all the service men and women who died in Viet Nam.  I've walked beside the Korean War memorial, with the haunting statues and wall of names.  I've stood in the center of the World War II Memorial.  I've never been moved as much as I was standing in this building (where no pictures are allowed - as a matter of respect), turning the pages of one of those red books, and reading the names of those men and women.

There are two books per unit now.  The mess in Iraq and Afghanistan have added a lot of names.

Not surprisingly, I was a tad subdued as we left this part of our tour.

We walked back down the royal mile, past St. Giles again .. and returned to the Scotsman to start our next adventure.  A night in one of the oldest Castles in Scotland....

 

 

 

 

 

Not my usual Friday. ...

I keep making these plans about what's going to come up on this blog next.

Lately they've included knitting, and traveling and such.

But today clearly had other things in mind.  Today was so not normal, I kind of want to have a record.  And... most of what wasn't normal is likely to pop up again before the year's over, so I may as well share.

Friday mornings are supposed to look like this:

I get up at 7:00, and make sure my daughters have already gotten up too.  We load up the car by 7:30, I drive them to school, where they shamble off without having said much, and I drive to school myself to learn about anatomy.

Today, my day started at 5:30 a.m. when Golf Pro informed me that he was finally ready to take me up on my offer to drive him to Convenient Care.  (Tuesday night, he fell somehow, and hurt his back so that he woke up in pain Wednesday. I'd been urging a doctor visit since Wednesday evening).

I persuaded him that if he'd been willing to wait two whole days, two and a half more hours to take the cost from a $175.00 ER visit to a $20.00 Convenient Care visit might be okay.

So, I got up shortly before 7:00, went to roust Kitty (who is usually up before that) only to find an immovable lump in her bed.  She opened one eye and outlined some symptoms that sounded unpleasant, and I let her sleep.  I rousted Bookworm, who wasn't terribly happy about it, then got dressed, and helped Golf Pro down the stairs.

I made coffee, drank coffee while writing up all I could about Golf Pro's last couple of days and the various symptoms I'd been keeping track of, and then loaded Golf Pro into the car.  Bookworm loaded herself, and I drove 7.5 miles to the school, then back 7 miles to the Convenient Care.  Checked Golf Pro in, and abandoned him to the medical folk while I drove 8 or so miles to school.

I managed to get myself into the first group for our first Practical in the Cadaver lab.  (I feel quite confident about this test, since I'd been fretting about remembering "popliteal" (the area behind your knee), but then was able to remember it for the question that happened to ask us to identify the popliteal area!  Go me.)

Golf Pro texted me that he was ready, and I got the text right after finishing my test.  So I drove back to Convenient Care to fetch him, and pick up the meds they ordered.  He'd been given a pain shot and an anti-nausea shot (evidently, when you're in serious pain and they poke at the injured place, it can make you nauseated -- duh), so he wasn't too clear on stuff.  I took him home, and he went up to bed.

Normally, Friday noons involve me eating lunch and studying a bit.  Or maybe giving a homework massage.

Today, it involved me having a long chat with Golf Pro's doc (I am SO glad he signed that form that says they can talk to me).  I got the low down on his four fractured ribs.  I learned that he needed to come back today to have his pulse-ox taken since thy discovered a "pneumo" on his x-ray (translated, that means that there was air in the pleural cavity that was OUTSIDE his lungs, which is not where it's supposed to be, and a wee hole in his lungs from which it had come.  They weren't terribly worried though, since it HAD been two days, and his lung showed no sign of collapsing).  I took good notes, and made his follow up appointment for Monday.

We did go back, his O2 was fine.  But the pain meds weren't doing diddly. The doc and I worked out a new plan, and she gave me a scrip for something more exciting just in case we really need it.  (As it turns out, we've not needed it yet.  Fingers crossed it stays that way).

Normally, I'd go to class in the afternoon, and then fetch a child or two, and come home.

Today, I went to class, and then went in to write a big check to the Band Boosters -- out of nowhere, Golf Pro decided that based on a long overdue payment that we'll be getting this fall, Bookworm gets to go to Disney with the Marching Band.  And so do the rest of us.  We'll be having Thanksgiving there -- with the band -- after watching them do their marchy goodness that afternoon.

Bookworm is pleased.  Kitty doesn't really know yet.  Heck, I only found out that it would be feasible 22 hours ago, and only learned that it was actually possible 9 hours ago (when the band director confirmed that she could sneak us in despite yesterday having been the cut-off).

Normally, I'd spend the evening at home, hanging with my kids, and watching TV or movies.  Instead, I'm about to get in my car, and (voluntarily mind you), drive to a place where people will be playing (and watching) football.  Then I'm going to park my car, and go PAY some one to let me into the area where I can SEE them play football.  ???

What?

Who am I?  What have I done with myself???

Oh yeah. 

I"m a mom.  And I have a daughter in marching band.  And she's quit telling me that they "suck" and is now willing to have me come watch their half-time show. 

Even though it's cool, and threatening to drizzle a bit, I know that this weather is WAY better than boiling hot, or freezing cold.  And my experience wtih football is that you're far more likely to encounter one of those two than a brisk but otherwise pleasant evening.  So..

My lace and I are going to the football game.

Life on the Student Track

Suddenly, I find that every minute is packed.  Mostly that's a good thing.

Yes, it's playing havoc with my ability to keep up with all the TV shows I like to watch, but I think I can survive if I've not seen this week's Closer.

Yes, it is slowing down the knitting and designing process a tad, but it's not keeping me from edging ever closer to binding off Fairy Stars over Diamonds (I'm so close!!).

But -- it's filling my brain with all sorts of wonderful new stuff! I have so much to think about (and talk about), that I'm sort of overflowing with it all.  Best of all,  I'm meeting new people, some of whom are truly delightful, with whom I can discuss this stuff so that I'm not driving my family mad.

Better still, it's not ALL brain work.  True, I'm learning physiology and anatomy and psychology.  And I do have to memorize muscles (among this week's pets: the Levator Scapulae.  They're among the culprits for headaches and are the reason you can't turn your head when you get a stiff neck.)  For each muscle, I need to know it's origin (where it attaches to the bone(s)), and its insertion point (the other bone(s) to which it attaches, and which it moves when flexed), and what it does -- exactly what it does.  It's both pure memorization and useful for the hands on work.

Learning all the muscles means that I understand what I'm massaging. And learning the origins and insertion points helps you remember which way is best to work the muscle (from origin to insertion).

The other part of my week is learning a new sequence of massage.  We started with the back, learning what will become about a 25 minute sequence (when we've learned it well enough to do it without lots of filler strokes to figure out what's next) that pretty much addresses all the back muscles.  Once we learn the sequence, we have to practice it. Each week we have to give a certain number of practice massages, and record what we noticed and/or learned in the process.  My local friends are lapping this up  :-)

At first, I thought this would be awkward.  I also feared I'd find it tiring to wedge in the massages.  Now, I'm thinking I'll be doing far more than the required number.  I mean -- I've fulfilled my obligation for this week, but I've got DAYS until the new week starts.  Surely I can give another one ??? maybe two???  It turns out, the hard part is scheduling them in ways that work for both me and the ... recipient.

Alas, all this fun and studying means that I'm woefully behind in reporting on the Scotland trip.  As I get used to the studying and the memorizing, I'll find more time to do that.  Perhaps tomorrow morning.

For now, I'm off to take another quiz.  I got 18/20 on this morning's quiz. I'm a tad irked that I didn't get them all right, and am dithering over taking advantage of the re-take option. On the other hand, it's hard to complain about an A when I know others are struggling for their C's.