Meatless March

More and more frequently, parts of the world are on fire or underwater or otherwise plagued by climate-change-intensifed bad weather. It is literally devastating. But even if you're just watching it on TV and counting your lucky stars that you're not in an evacuation zone, climate change may still have immediate hazards in store for you. Today's example? "Climate change is making poison ivy stronger and itchier," according to Grist.  Read my description of suffering from poison ivy in 2015, and try to tell me that's no big deal: "I went from looking like a smallpox victim to getting an infection, then antibiotics and steroids, then a 'systemic reaction' of random rashes all over my body, so antihistamines and MORE steroids, and a very successful stint on a MLB team, then another exposure to poison ivy, because I'm just that stupid, then more steroids, and now I just have scars all over my arms and legs." We're enabling all kinds of ho

Despite the many infuriating things about the Olympics ( sexist uniform rules , flawed drug policies, NBC's ridiculously selective coverage and often inane commentary, the potential to exacerbate the COVID-19 pandemic), I popped out of bed yesterday morning and hurried to turn on the live broadcast of the opening ceremony. I can't help myself. I love the good parts of the Games: athleticism, high stakes, sportsmanship, team spirit. This has been true since I was a kid, when I cheered for the likes of Mary Decker, Greg Louganis, Carl Lewis, Katarina Witt, Mary Lou Retton, and, yes,  Eddie the Eagle .  I started running when I was very small, but let's just say most of my ribbons were for participation I remember feeling indignant when I learned that the Soviet Union was boycotting the 1984 Olympic Games, and then sheepish when told that the United States had done the same thing four years earlier. Ever since then, I have felt bad for the athletes who missed those Games, and

A few weeks ago, I woke up seeing flashes and floaters in my left eye. Googling the symptoms gave me instant panic: These were signs of my retina possibly detaching! I must see an eye doctor immediately! I could go blind! I would like to think that if I ever lose my sight, I would accept it as gracefully as Mary in Laura Ingalls Wilder's books. "All that long time, week after week, when she could still see a little, but less every day, she had never cried. Now she could not see even the brightest light any more. She was still patient and brave," Mary was described in By The Shores of Silver Lake .  The Ingalls sisters, as depicted by Garth Williams My search for an in-network eye doctor on my insurance company's website produced literally zero results, so I indulged in some seriously un-Mary-like sobbing until I figured out that I was incorrectly spelling "ophthalmologist". It is a very hard word to spell, especially (and ironically) when you are panicked ab