Global Warming Friday: Wall*E

Let me start with my main complaint. We discovered, as the ticket-taker handed back our ticket stubs, that the first however many kids going to see Wall*E got a free watch. Scooter was overjoyed to be given a prize even before the movie began, so he clutched it tightly. I have dutifully set it and figure we were planning on trying to teach him to tell time (with the current short cut of using digital), so what the heck. Except... the watch is basically one of those rubber wristbands with a little display inset, made in China, and the battery cannot be replaced. In other words, destined for the landfill. For those of you who have read about the movie, the irony should be obvious; for the rest, you'll figure it out pretty quickly.

Watch aside, how great was this movie! I'm generally a Pixar fan anyways and find that they are able to work at multiple levels, providing entertainment for kids and parents alike, but this film transcends their usual fare. And somehow, before I started reading reviews today to decide whether or not to take Scooter, I hadn't known about the environmental element of the story. I knew there were two robots who fall in love, but had no idea about the larger narrative.

A partial summary, being as un-spoilery as possible: Wall*E is basically a robotic garbage compactor. For several centuries, he has been working through the garbage that covers the Earth's surface. His only companionship is, of course, a cockroach. Some of the opening scenes, establishing the routine of Wall*E's lonely existence reminded me of I Am Legend--without the sense of impending danger, just that Wall*E has found a rhythm that helps him deal what might otherwise feel like a pointless existence.

When another robot is set down in his neighborhood to search for any signs of vegetation, Wall*E quickly falls in love. His desire to be with her is what sets up the drastic change of scenery for the second part of the movie.

Much of the movie is dark, as it presents a dystopic vision of what could happen to our planet and us. The opening scenes make it clear that humans have turned to alternative energy sources, but in the end are overwhelmed by the trash produced in a consumerist society. But it is not without hope, and the closing credits make more concrete the possibilities that are suggested at the movie's end. (Not that I got to watch them all, as I had a 5-year-old repeatedly asking, "Is it the The End?")

As we walked out of the theater, Scooter said that he loved the movie. But take that with a grain of salt, as he followed what has become his usual pattern: eagerly order popcorn and find a seat, wonder through ads and previews when the movie will start, proclaim self scared of stuff that isn't all that scary, sit on one mother's lap, switch mother's or move to behind a mother (the better to be protected from the movie), request a couple times to go home, ask if it's over yet, insist that the movie was great. Still, we continue to take him to kids' movies, at least in part for the practice.

He came out of the theater talking about the different robots. And I figure that's what he'll most remember. But I know, from past experiences, that some of the message has crept in there too and they'll reappear at surprising moments. Plus, I can now refer back to the movie as a touchstone when we encounter moments that resonate with its lessons. In particular, different aspects can be used to discuss the saying, "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle." But there are also messages about education and how much we miss if we're always buried in the computer screen (and yes, ironic that I'm now buried in my laptop to write this, but it did make me want to step away for a bit). There are several more complex topics introduced as well, particularly the issue of the role of corporations in our lives and the power of advertisement. Even some politics, especially if you want to dissect the suggestion at one point to "Stay the course." Throw in the usual bits about love and perseverance and doing what's right. This one will provide fodder for many areas of discussion.

But back to the watch. I can't help but wonder how much crap tie-in merchandise I'll be seeing in the stores. There are surely a thousand different product ideas, mostly cheap plastic and made overseas, that have been dreamed up for this movie, encased in layers of cardboard and plastic. I'm plenty guilty of purchasing such items, though we've slowed down a bit in this department. But whether or not I personally pass over these items, it's disappointing to think that a movie with such a strong message might be perverted in such a way.

Maybe I'll be proven wrong. (Disney, please prove me wrong.) Maybe the Wall*E's of our future won't be compacting plastic watches and figurines that look just like them.

As requested...

The "recipe," as much as there is one:

Mix up crust according to directions. Remember mother-in-law's remarks that it falls apart easily and that she only got 2 crusts out of a 4-crust box. Scrap idea of making individual pies.

Take out cherries from fridge. They've been sitting in there for a couple of days, pitted and mixed with a little lemon juice. No idea how many, just the ones that were ripe and easy to reach from the third rung of the step-ladder.

Mix into cherries: 1/4-cup tapioca flour, 3/4-cup sugar.

Pour into pie crust that has been pressed into greased pie plate, more or less evenly. Realize that there aren't quite as many cherries as needed. Shrug.

Place second crust on top of pie. No need to slash it, as it's conveniently torn in a couple places. Sprinkle a little more sugar on top.

Back in oven, according to crust box directions (425? maybe?) for 35-40 minutes.

First slice was pretty good, rest is waiting at the in-laws for this weekend's dessert.

Instead of writing...

Off to make a gluten-free cherry pie. With sweet cherries from my own tree.

Outnumbered

I want a dog. Have for a while. This is the longest I have been without one in my entire life--more than two years now.

Trillian is a bit reluctant. I'll even admit that many of her reasons are valid. Primarily the whole "let's not take this on while we're trying to have another kid" reason. Plus her allergies.

But I want a dog enough that I'd be willing to compromise my pound-puppy sensibilities to get a dog breed that tends to be less allergenic.

For a while, I had an ally. Scooter thought he would like a dog. But then we stayed with my sister--and her oversolicitous Labrador.

A typical conversation goes like this:

Me: (using an opening, like he sees a dog and comments that it's nice) That dog sure is nice. Would you like to have a dog?

Scooter: No, I already have pets. I have fish.

M: You could have fish and a dog.

S: No, then the house would be crowded.

So apparently a 5-gallon tank of tiny tropical fish is the tipping point in our house.

If I press him further, he'll come up with other excuses. Today, it was that a dog would scare away Trillian. When I said, "But what if she wants the dog?" Then it would scare away me. If both of us want the dog? It will scare away Scooter.

I've been outvoted and emphatically so.

A new path

The thyroid is an endocrine gland located in the neck. For a gland, it’s a good size—and it ought to be! The hormones produced by the thyroid affect every cell and system in the body. If the thyroid hormones are out of whack, it can impact one’s heart rate and pulse, metabolism, energy level, temperature, experience of pain, cholesterol levels, eyesight, and even skin and hair health.

The most common test run when a thyroid problem is suspected is a blood test to determine one’s TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) levels. TSH is released by the pituitary gland to tell the thyroid when it needs to produce more T3 and T4, the two thyroid hormones. Generally speaking, a high TSH level indicates that the usual feedback loop is not resulting in enough thyroid hormone, so the pituitary gland keeps upping production in an attempt to get the amount it wants. But if the thyroid is underperforming or failing, it simply cannot keep up. (Things can also go the other way, where the thyroid pumps out too much, regardless of what the pituitary says.)

I have a decent amount of second-hand information on thyroid problems; Trillian has a history of them and is currently on a common medication to regulate her levels. She had to fight hard to get a doctor to pay attention to her complaints, all definite symptoms of hypothyroidism, because at the time the reference range for TSH went up to 5.5 or 6. Most labs, including the one I use, have moved the high end of the range to 4.5 or so, but many people (Trillian included) feel that anything over 3.0 in a woman is suspect and that most women are probably at optimum when their TSH is at 1.5.

The TSH test I had in March came back at 2.52. Well within the reference range for my lab, so my physician included it in her observation that all of my levels were fine. She had also ordered tests to look for a number of thyroid antibodies. If those had been detected, it would have indicated an issue to pursue, regardless of my TSH level. But that was clean too.

Trillian gave me her take on those numbers, that I was close enough to 3.0 that I should keep an eye on things. She also inspired me to dig through some old medical records and see what my TSH has been in the past. I discovered an interesting pattern. The oldest level I had on record, from before I was even trying to get pregnant with Scooter, was right around 2.5. But the blood tests from during my pregnancy and soon after were more like 1.8. Interesting, something to bring up with my physician, but not necessarily a problem.

Then Cid (Clueless* Infertility Doctor) made some offhand remark at the beginning of my appointment about my TSH being “borderline.” Turns out he’s another proponent of moving the reference range down to 3.0. He didn’t dwell on it, but one of the tests he ordered for me, in addition to another TSH, was an assay of my free T4. Turns out he did something right. I would guess that he expected my T4 to come back low, which would indicate hypothyroidism.

Funny thing though. My free T4 came back high. Not super high, but outside the reference range.

I sifted through a lot of online sites and charts about thyroid test results. My particular situation—high T4, normal/high-normal TSH—just did not appear in most places I looked. But finally I came up with something that not only fit my test results, but also a whole host of other health complaints I’ve had: resistance to thyroid hormone (RTH).

In the past, I’ve often thought I might have hypothyroidism. I am overweight, and despite recently upping the frequency and intensity of my exercise, I cannot lose weight. I am always tired, my nails have always been brittle, I ache all over. Trillian would probably throw in depression and irritability. But then I don’t have some of the hallmark symptoms, things that result from metabolic changes, particularly cold intolerance. If anything, I have a tendency to overheat easily and much prefer the cold. (Though not the incessant Toronto winter.)

Turns out that people with RTH can have symptoms of both hypo- and hyperthyroidism. But the thing that just about knocked me out of my chair was when I came to a section in the Wikipedia article about RTH as a possible/likely cause of fibromyalgia. See, I was diagnosed (tentatively, reluctantly by a neurologist) with fibromyalgia a bit before Scooter’s first birthday. Because I am unwilling to take sleep aids or muscle relaxants on a regular basis, I have managed it primarily through diet and exercise. And otherwise pushed through the aches and poor sleep, as I have been since they became part of my baseline around the time puberty hit.

And then I started finding the information I had been looking for: women with untreated RTH are much more likely to suffer miscarriages. In particular, the chance of a miscarriage rises exponentially if the fetus is not also affected by RTH. I’ve also seen anecdotal suggestions that some women with RTH find their usual symptoms alleviated by pregnancy (when the fetus also has RTH).** But the good news is that there appears to be a good chance of a successful pregnancy and healthy baby when the mother is treated with T3.

So I am in the process of making appointments and getting the referrals I need to follow this particular path. It means waiting several months, but my melancholy has mostly lifted; if this is the right route, if this takes me to an answer, if it can improve my health across the board, the wait will be worth it.

*Not in terms of his knowledge of his specialty, but regarding his human interaction and estimation of my intelligence.

**Once I have a little more information on myself, if it turns out my hunch is correct, we’ll be pursuing this for Scooter too.

A few Scooter moments

I have started a few posts, serious posts on various issues. But they tend to get bogged down a couple paragraphs on and I have to hit "Save Now" for the time being.

So instead I'll give you a few more Scooter moments from the past few days.

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We've had a bunch of foam letters and numbers for the bath for about three years now. Since reaching the cusp of reading, Scooter has a renewed interest in them. He likes to pick out letters and stick them to the side of the tub, asking me to pronounce the nonsense he creates. He gets a kick out of throwing numbers and shapes into the mix. And then laughs hysterically as I stumble through them.

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How do you keep a boy busy in the bath for a while? Stick a foam letter in the middle of his back.

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Scooter's favorite activity at his daycare recently has been hammering nails into blocks of wood. His teacher showed me a picture of him the other day, wearing goggles, swinging a hammer.

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Scooter has also been playing with some of the other kids in his class. It hasn't surprised me to discover that they have similar personalities and that they spend their time together building things. One kid in particular tends to share the same orbit as Scooter. He gravitates to us when it's pick up time and likes to tell me something new. It serves as a little reminder to me that there are plenty of kids here who will not find him all that odd.

Waiting for the bus

Riding the bus gives Scooter and me more time to chat in a very non-pressuring way. Most days I'll ask questions about school--what he will do or has done, depending on the direction we're headed--and then let him go on at length about whatever catches his fancy. Usually non-school-related, but at least I get a glimpse into what's going on in his mind. Today provided two thought-provoking exchanges.

On the way to school:
As we waited for the bus, Scooter watched some people walking across the street. He said, not very loudly but possibly loudly enough, "That woman has a fat tummy."

"You shouldn't say things like that," I responded. I could see, flashing across his face, something that would have been but it's true, if he could have put his thoughts into words. And I realized that "should" is subjective, so I added, "It's not nice. It might hurt her feelings."

He seemed to sort of get it, but was a little upset about being called on it, so he justified: "I was only saying it to myself."

I smiled at him and back-tracked a little: "You can say it to yourself. Just say it a little more quietly."

During this exchange, I quickly noted that this is the first time he's come out with a statement quite like that. Usually when he notices people, it's to remark on their movement ("Where are they going? Maybe to the park.") or some object they have with them. I would have expected him to remark on the stroller being pushed by another woman in the group. But instead, he was observing people-y qualities.

On the way home:
Scooter and I were trudging up the hill from his preschool to the bus stop. We always have plenty of time, so I let him dawdle, encourage it even. One of the houses along the way has had a "For Rent" sign up for some time now. The sign started out with the logo of a local company, the realtor's name and phone number at the bottom. Recently, that information was blocked out by much duct tape and a new phone number written in black marker. Yesterday, Scooter noticed that the sign looked different. I explained about the tape, saying that they wanted to put a new phone number on it. So today as we neared the sign, he said, "I want to read the new phone number."

"OK," I paused, waiting for him to start. When he didn't, I asked if he saw the number. He seemed a bit unsure, so I coached him a bit: "It starts with five-five-five." (Not the actual first three digits.) "Do you see what comes next?"

He studied the last four digits, 1200. "One thousand..." pause, during which I was impressed he knew the number, "two hundred." Not exactly the way we tend to say phone numbers, but more complicated than the one-two-zero-zero I would have expected. He has long been able to count to 20 and from there to 100 by tens. I'm sure he's heard references to 1000, but I was a bit awestruck to realize that he could pull all of those concepts together. (Makes me laugh a bit when I consider that one of the questions on the kindergarten enrollment form was whether he was beginning to recognize some letters and numbers.)

He may answer most of my questions about what he did at school, who he played with, what he ate for snack with a standard "I don't know" until I can draw information out with pointed questions. But there's no doubt he's got a lot going on in his mind--and something about waiting for the bus that brings it out.