The world washed to black, to white, to everything.  The sound of a thousand silences crashed into a million tornadoes.  She heard nothing, heard everything, saw nothing, saw everything.

She knew it was her brother holding her.  She knew father was nearby, looking down at the broken body.  She knew every murmur, whisper, breath of everyone near.  This was her entire world, her whole existence, every blink, every creak, every noise recognized.

Onieda knew it was hers no longer.  Her brothers arms around her gave no comfort, no closeness.

Different.

Outsider.

Freak.

The eyes of her father, that had held nothing but warmth, were now cold, never again to heat.  His stiff posture, rigid, arm held toward Humphrey immobile. 

She knew then, she must leave.  There was nothing but pain left here, in the land that had nestled her in comfort, love and safety.

I just have a functional table saw.

Working on 220v.  New switch.  Cuts like butter, passes the nickel test. 

Man, that was satisfying. Like so few of my purchases are.

My latest purchase was a table saw.

Granted, I think I did fairly well on the $10 bench grinder, and the 8 levels for $15 (2 - 4’, 4 - 2’ ), and even the small folding table for $1.

But I spent $200 on a table saw, without knowing whether or not it even turned on.  Or what brand it was.  Or if there were even still parts around.

All I knew is that it had a cast iron top, a blade, and a bunch of fence jigs.

It turns out that it’s an American Machine and Tool saw, which is no longer made.  The company doesn’t have any information on it, and no parts are sold any longer.  The reviews I’ve found online have been decent, and it seems like it’ll be an OK saw.

However.

When I got it home and unloaded (thanks to one of my coworkers who I probably addicted to auctions now), we first plugged it in to the extension cord I had handily near the saw.

BZZZZZ goes the saw.  POP goes the breaker.

So I try it in a circuit that’s on a different fuse, without the extension cord.  WRR----POP.  This time, the blade spins, but the breaker blows.

The motor draws 16A on 110.  The only breaker I have in the garage is 15A.  Everything else is Olde Timey screw in fuses of the 20A and 15A variety.  I don’t have any extra 20A OTSIFs. 

Well, at least it spins.

The next day, DW and I head to town for some home improvement shopping, and dinner and a movie with friends.  I pick up some fuses, and decide that I want to wire the saw up for 220V, so that I’ll only need an 8A circuit.  It shouldn’t be a big deal, the garage already has 2 outlets with 220 wired, so I should be able to work of those.  I pick up an end that looks right, and is the only one Home Depot stocks in that layout.  Then we go eat some pizza, and see Avatar.

The next morning, I put my new end on some Romex (which is long enough for me to put my tablesaw somewhere on Alpha Centari), and head back out to the garage.  I start taking the switch off, so I can wire in the new power cord, and pull it away from the saw.  Opening it up, out falls a few chunks of plastic, and all the springs.

Fabulous.  The switch is a 2 button (Green ON button, Red OFF button) that works with this sliding metal plate and some springs.  Pushing the ON button locks the plate in place and the contacts down.  Pushing the OFF button is a little wedge that moves the plate and releases the contacts.  Only, the metal plate is missing its mount point on one side, and the Off button’s metal wedge is loose and flopping around because it’s plastic broke off too!

After cursing some fair amount, I get the pieces back into shape and the switch sort of functional (and not shorting out, this is probably the key that I didn’t think off at the time), and wire in the power.

I walk across the garage, and try to the plug it in.  The plug doesn’t fit the receptacle.  It doesn’t even come close.  It’s the right layout, but the plug is much too large for the outlet.  In disgust, I shut off all the power to the garage (which involves a trip back into the house to throw the garage’s breaker), and pull that outlet out.  And decide to take care of it after work the next day.

The next day was yesterday.  I did some research, and it turns out that my outlet is a historical throwback known as a NEMA 10-20.  The plug I bought is a NEMA 10-50.  Simple enough.  However, that last bit, the 20 and 50, indicates the rated amps of the plug.  I can’t just throw a 10-50 outlet in place of the 10-20, as the next owner will probably burn the place down or blow fuses out left and right.

Luckily, we have a pile of NEMA L6-20 plugs here at work (we replaced them all with 30A), so I just need an L6-20 receptacle.  Over lunch my coworker and I head to the HD to see what I can find to damage my wallet, and I pick up a l6-20R for $15 and a cheapo 110/220v circuit tester to make sure I don’t electrocute myself.  Later in the day, I order a new paddle switch from Grizzly for the saw.

Last night, I get home and put in the receptacle, and turn power back on.  Everything lights up like it’s supposed to, and the circuit tests 110 where it should, and 220 where it should.  Realizing that I have a new switch on the way, I’m going to have to wait to wire it in.  However, I do have some new 20A fuses, so I figure it can’t hurt to give the saw one more try on 110.  I wire up the power cord, and while making sure nothing is shorted out, plug it in to the 20A circuit.

Then I push the On switch.

And wouldn’t you know it, the saw starts.

And runs.

And doesn’t blow the fuse.

And keeps running.

And shuts off when I gingerly push in the stop button (so as not to short it out).

VICTORY!

Well, it’ll be victory when I get the new switch.  And I still think I’m going to switch it over to 220V, at least to keep the amp draw down.

Oh, and the blade? I think it’s a good deal.

Hot Chicks Bigger!

You wouldn’t believe the insanely cute peeps they make.

More here

Yes, I had my gall bladder removed.

No, there weren’t any complications.

Yes, I’ve resumed normal activity.

More activity

Anyhow…

Onion.

The endoscopy came back OK.  OK in that the only thing wrong with me are the gallstones that have taken up residence.

The procedure, well, I’d say it was aweful.  I’d even say it was great.  In all honesty, I don’t remember any of it.

I arrived at the hospital, filled out the standard “sign this” forms and waited in a nondescript waiting room.  I’m sure I made some jokes about cameras, and offended other waiting room...waiters.

When they called me back, they didn’t have me undress, I just put the gown over the top of my clothes.  Up on a stretcher, sit and wait some more.  The nurse came to give me my IV, and I directed her to my left arm.  My months of selling plasma, in addition to the $40 a week, taught me that needles in my left arm work better, and cause me less pain.  She was appreciative, seeing the necessary vessel right away.  More waiting.  Hearing the lady on the other side of the curtain talk about her shingles on her arm.  Watching them bring the same blood pressure machine to me.  Hope I don’t get shingles.

A short bed ride into the ambulatory surgery area, and more (that’s right!) waiting.  A brief conversation with the assisting nurse, where I assured her I wasn’t allergic to anything except for cameras with fiber optics on them.  More waiting.  Finally the doctor arrives.  Asks me how I’m doing.  Tells the nurse to begin.  She injects me, and tells me to open my mouth.  She sprays in some aweful tast…

..I’m looking at my arm.  How did my arm get in front of me?  Oh, I’m on my side.  How did I get on my side?  Where’d the room go?  Hey, there’s DW.  Wow, good drugs.

The next few hours (ok, the next 30 hours) are pretty much a haze at this point.  I remember specific things, but its like they happened years ago, instead of days.

And tomorrow, I get to go back in, and have the gall bladder removed.

I’m hoping for more time warps, and an end to the pain that woke me this morning at 4:30.  At least this time, I was only wishing I was dead for 2 hours.  25 hours from now, I’ll be back on a stretcher, and waiting some more.

Wiki and WebMD say that they’ll probably put me under for this, but what’s the fun in that?

I want to drink some mild numbing agent, and watch the whole thing on TV.  Listening to the noises my body makes while its being abused by fiberoptics.

Good times!

I have gall stones.  Such an old lady disease, yet there I am, struck with it.

Dr. appointment tomorrow to discuss options with the surgeon.

Looks like I’ll probably be going under the knife!

cut cut cut cut, bleeeeeed.  Fun times!

A few months back, she put me on water pills to combat my high blood pressure.

Until I saw her, I’d never had a problem with HBP.  Every doctor visit was within a few points of 115/60.  Almost without fail.

However, I go see this quack, and suddenly I’m at 150/100. 

I take her fucking pills for 3 months.  I piss every 15 minutes.  I dream of pissing.  I don’t drink anything for 2 days, and still I can’t stop.

I go back in, after an all nighter at work (drinking coffee mind you), and 160/120.  What the FUCK?

She writes another prescription, which I promptly file under “STFU”.  I skip my 3 month checkup with the old Schedule conflict excuse.

Fast forward 2 more months to Friday night (saturday morning) around 3am, I’m having pain underneath my right rib.  It feels like the worst case of heartburn I’ve ever felt, only slightly shifted to the right and down.

After 3 hours, the pain goes away, and I fall back asleep.

Then, Saturday night, at around 11pm, it starts again.

Only this time, it makes what I’d been feeling before seem like a stroll through cupcake land, with pixes and fairies fellating me.

It goes on, and on, and on.  Everything I do makes it hurt worse.

Sitting still?  More pain.
Playing Wow? more pain.
Laying down? OMG KILL ME
Playing Rock band? Oh shit, I missed that note because I can’t move my arm, aaaah.
Taking a hot bath? Oh, wow, less pain.
Getting out of the bath and drying off?  Oh fuck, take me in baby, Ima gonna die.

So DW drives me into the ER, and bless her heart driving carefully and softly, trying to minimize what I’m feeling.

All I want to do is scream at here to speed the fuck up and get there.

Instead, I clench the seat, and door handle, close my eyes and wait.

At the ER, I get undressed, get in Ye Old Backless Sack, get under the nice warm blanket, and still feel like I want to die.

BP done, temp, pee in a cup, get some xrays, get a lovely white pill that makes all the bad pain stop, but mostly, DW and I just sit in the room and talk for 3 hours.

ER doc thinks its gallbladder related, everything else came back normal.

Including my BP.

115/63.  Fuck you quack russian doctor.

Sound returned first, lightly flowing, then louder.  A cacophony of indescribable clashing noise assaulted her pre-consciousness, and then her conscious thought.  Individual sounds floated out of the din, sounds that while recognizable, didn’t belong in the chorus.  A blacksmith’s hammer ringing over cold iron, the cook humming the notes she always did while making bread, a dog growling through a haunch of meat, sounds that certainly existed in the demnse, yet none should be with the others.  Thousands of sounds she recognized, her mind slowly picking out the recognizable from the unknown.  Turning her head, she recognized the change, realized that this was no hallucination, she was hearing them, actually hearing things from a radius around her.  The volume and focused changed as she moved her head, yet she could recognize and correlate the sound, and the location it should be.  The smithy, a mile from the stables where she had fallen.  The keep’s kitchen, 400 meters to her right.  Her brother Stabil and his wife, above the kitchen 3 floors, talking in hushed tones about an heir.

As the minutes passed, her mind took in the sounds, cataloging, remembering, placing, blocking the unknown.  The din eased, became familiar.  The strident disharmony sorting itself into a recognizable stratum, as her mind accustomed itself with the harmony of life turning around her. 

Finally, she opened her eyes.  She was again briefly overwhelmed by the input, the clarity and distance which she was now seeing.  Perhaps her brain had adjusted to the new sensory overload, for she only took a few seconds to set the sights to order.  The blades of grass, serrated edges directly in front her.  Beyond them, the keep, the coarse texture of its external stonework apparent to her now, something she’d never noticed before.  The colors took the longest to resolve, turning from a motley disarray of shades, turning again to a harmony of light.  Differences in shades were now apparent to her, and her mind turned itself to sorting the overload into something familiar.  Less than a minute had passed this time, yet she was able to comprehend what she was seeing easily now.  The world had taken on a clarity. 

The breeze blew on her, rubbing her face with those same blades of grass.  Smells and sensations doubly assaulted her, but now her brain had its defense.  It only took seconds for those to right themselves, to attune to this new way of being.  She licked her lips, and could taste the very air in the breeze.  No time at all was required for her mind to catalog out the bouquet, the individual flavors drifting in the breeze.

She sat up.  She could still see Humphrey laying where he had fallen.  Her heart tore then, knowing that she had caused his death.  The assault on her senses brought with it the realization that she was something different than what she’d been when she woke this morning.  She could feel the strength of her limbs and she knew that she had lifted the horse, a 300 stone bulk of flesh, with no more effort than she lifted her fork.  In her shock, she had dropped the gelding, and Humphrey had just been in the way.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks then.  Humphrey, the stickman busybody that had taught her to count, to read, to cipher was gone.  He’d taught her the history of the land, how to act formally and informally, and basically everything else parents would teach their children.  He had been like a mother and father to her, in ways even closer than her real father.  She rushed to his side, the distance again disappearing in a fraction of a second.  This time though, her body was ready, and more importantly, so was her mind.  No motion sickness reared its head, only the mourning for a loss so deep it quickly overshadowed any delight in newfound abilities.

The farrier found her there, holding Humphrey’s body hours later, when their absence on stead was noticed.  She was out of tears, out of sound, rocking back and forth.

Onieda looked down into the valley, taking in the majestic views.  This morning she had broken her fast with her family.  This afternoon, she was alone.  More than alone, she knew she was different than anyone.  Her father looked upon her with some sort of reverence broking on fanatical, not with the loving gaze of patriarch.  Her once loved brothers disavowed her name.  The friends, the servants, to the one had lost their friendly demeanor, treating her with a coldness she’d never witnessed.

And why?  Why had everything in her life turned on its side.  Everything in her seeming charmed life had changed into something out of a story.  Bereft of any warmth, simply because she…

What?

What had occurred?  She’d eaten her morning meal, like she had for every day in memory.  Yes, it was her birthday, but there’d been 17 before.  After the food, she was supposed to have gone on a ride with the estates chamberlain, one of the duties she performed for her father.  Inventorying the harvest, the growth.  Tending to the needs of the workers. 

Yet, when she had grabbed hold of the pommel, and pulled to vault herself into the saddle, just as she’d done thousands of times before, it happened.  Instead of her feet leaving the ground, the horse screamed and was suddenly sideways, held up only by the cinch around it, and her hand on the horn.

An instant of confusion, and fear laced her every thought.  She let go the pommel, and the horse fell.  It lay for an instant, and then bolted.  Bolted over the chamberlain.  A slight man, he was crushed to death instantly beneath the strider’s hooves.  She took a hurried step to lend aid to the bloody corpse, not knowing him already dead, and found herself across the field. 

Again, the moment of fear, the confusion, and another feeling raced through her.  This time…sickness, both physical and mental played across her.  Slowly she turned to look back to where she had been standing a second earlier.  The sickness felt like she had first felt riding in the manor carriage, the movement inside not matching the movement outside the small windows.  The mental pains resulting from a complete lack of comprehension, “how is this happening?”

She could clearly see the chamberlain laying.  Humphrey.  From this distance, he should look like a tattered pile of cloth, yet she could easily see every line, every detail.  The trickle of ocher running from the corner of his mouth, and eye.  The caved in appearance of his chest.  The lack of and motion.  She knew then that he was dead.

She knew then that she was fainting.

PC recovered, seems to be in full working order so far.

Now, for some memory.

My only wish is that I could buy memory as easily for my own brain.