They offered me the job Thursday evening for more money than I make now. I accepted their offer on Friday (as I was driving back to the hometown because I did take the day off). That means I have a new job. I resigned from the current job yesterday and that went a lot better than the scenarios in my mind. Last day is the 9th, first day is the 12th. I believe that I did this last November too. Hope it's not a yearly thing.
The weekend trip was much needed, but as always, I'm not sure it put me in a better mood in general. Sweet A cut off all of my hair (okay, I'm not bald, but . . .) and I'm trying to figure out what to do with it even if I did ask her to do that. I get to see her again in November and possibly December when she comes over to Christmas shop! I spent time with AM and little E, both at the park and the zoo - how fun is it to go those places when you have kids? I caught up with L, my best friend since we were about 8, and she's doing well. The best part was spending time with my parents. I'll have to write about them sometime, but the short version is that they are wonderful people and really good parents and we've almost come full circle in that relationship. I had supper on Friday with my dad, which was so great, and Saturday morning I got up and went on errands with Mom for a few hours. I miss them and am often curious about how exactly the parent-child transition is supposed to work. You live with these people for 18ish years and then they aren't there anymore. Not in the physical sense anyway. Once, I was completely ungrateful towards them and then I came to realize that they kept loving me and that I owe so much of who I am and what I have to them. It was really great to spend that time with them.
What else? After some thought, I decided this would be a quiet month for us. With all the change, and yes, upheaval, we need to take a little break and focus on us. Just A and C. So while quiet might not be the right word, I'm saying that I'm tired, exhausted by all that is going on both externally and internally. I need a brief respite during which I don't need to worry about things I cannot change because I need that energy to focus on wrapping up the old job, starting the new job, and doing well in class; in short, the things I can change (anyone else hear the serenity prayer in that sentence?). I think this will be good for us, but as always, I could be wrong.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
The Change that Becomes Us
The job stuff is getting crazy. I let the supervisor know that I am seriously interested in the position this morning and she just called me back to let me know the ball is firmly in HR's court and that I should hear from them and they will be in charge of making me an offer and going over benefits and such. Yes, less money, but we can technically afford the pay cut because I won't be driving 50 miles round trip every day. See how that works out? C whipped out a calculator and figured up that I spend 13% of my paychecks on gasoline. Ughh. And we know that the drive seriously stresses me out. Those are his big PROS for this position. Besides that, this company has a lot of benefits that I can utilize AND I can transfer within the company after 18 months. The position I hold now has zero upward mobility and there is a definite ceiling on the pay scale. It may read like a lateral move, but I think that it's not what it seems.
Right after I called the supervisor lady, I received a call from the larger entity that governs that position. Thinking it was the supervisor, I answered and it was another department extending an interview to me for a different position. See, when I went online to apply again for the position I had previously applied for in February, there was a different position in the financial sector and since I had already filled out the online application, and I very much enjoy the financial part of things, I applied for that one too. I have an interview with them next Tuesday. Last time I applied for 5-6 jobs at this giant entity and only one called back and it was almost two months later - I filled out this application Sunday evening. Interesting. I did let her know that I was waiting on another job and if anything came of that, I would give her a call. I figure that I shouldn't limit my opportunities, right? Hope that all made sense.
It's all making me a little anxious and I'm considering taking tomorrow off and driving home for a relaxing weekend with the friends and family. I don't get to see too many people when C, me, and both dogs roll into town with the huge truck and trailer, so me and the Jeep might do some visiting. Anyone want to see me?
I started my new class last night and it's all about gangs. Only one male in the class and the rest seem to be teachers or sorostitues. Should be interesting and perhaps a little depressing. I started thinking on the way home about the questions that AD wrote me in an email about how much growing up has to do with actually changing. Or, rather than center my entire change around a miscarriage, what the result of that is. It's a cliche answer, but one that I've thought about and fully believe. When I was a child, adolescent, young adult, I'd never had something happen to me that was so outside of my control that it couldn't be fixed or forgotten. Everything that I thought would absolutely devastate me in that teenage way of thinking, didn't. I remember some of it and it may or may not of caused small issues or quirks here or there, but they weren't life changing, and I figure that's because they never got to my heart.
I now suffer from a damaged heart. This wonderful life contains a heart that beats away and pumps the blood, but it's damaged in a way that could possibly heal, but if so, will leave the deepest scars. I thought my heart was broken when the boy before C decided we weren't meant to be together, but it and I were not broken. I was hurt and my pride took a beating, but there was no more than surface bruising to my heart, which was healed as a friendship resumed and grew. Many of the other things that I might have said broke my heart really only screwed with my psyche in cruel ways. When I alienated a close friend, pieces of my heart began to chip off. But anger and rage walled up a defense around it so that the hurt couldn't penetrate as well. Thankfully, that was restored by her grace and understanding.
But this, this damaged my heart. There is some healing, but again, always a wicked scar. Not even a very good scar, as the wound is reopened at the most random things. I lost something I had expected to keep and I ran headfirst into grief that I have never felt before. This is why I am not the same. My heart is a little broken and at times I am still scrambling to keep it all together and intact. I didn't have to scramble before. I didn't have to inventory my feelings to aid the healing process. I didn't have to change the bandages on a wound that still seeps a little bit. Maybe this is a little more removed. I don't say that losing my baby changed everything, I say that it affected me in such a way as to change ME. What I carry around now, inside of me, is not the same heart that I used to love and forgive and celebrate with, it is changed and so am I.
Right after I called the supervisor lady, I received a call from the larger entity that governs that position. Thinking it was the supervisor, I answered and it was another department extending an interview to me for a different position. See, when I went online to apply again for the position I had previously applied for in February, there was a different position in the financial sector and since I had already filled out the online application, and I very much enjoy the financial part of things, I applied for that one too. I have an interview with them next Tuesday. Last time I applied for 5-6 jobs at this giant entity and only one called back and it was almost two months later - I filled out this application Sunday evening. Interesting. I did let her know that I was waiting on another job and if anything came of that, I would give her a call. I figure that I shouldn't limit my opportunities, right? Hope that all made sense.
It's all making me a little anxious and I'm considering taking tomorrow off and driving home for a relaxing weekend with the friends and family. I don't get to see too many people when C, me, and both dogs roll into town with the huge truck and trailer, so me and the Jeep might do some visiting. Anyone want to see me?
I started my new class last night and it's all about gangs. Only one male in the class and the rest seem to be teachers or sorostitues. Should be interesting and perhaps a little depressing. I started thinking on the way home about the questions that AD wrote me in an email about how much growing up has to do with actually changing. Or, rather than center my entire change around a miscarriage, what the result of that is. It's a cliche answer, but one that I've thought about and fully believe. When I was a child, adolescent, young adult, I'd never had something happen to me that was so outside of my control that it couldn't be fixed or forgotten. Everything that I thought would absolutely devastate me in that teenage way of thinking, didn't. I remember some of it and it may or may not of caused small issues or quirks here or there, but they weren't life changing, and I figure that's because they never got to my heart.
I now suffer from a damaged heart. This wonderful life contains a heart that beats away and pumps the blood, but it's damaged in a way that could possibly heal, but if so, will leave the deepest scars. I thought my heart was broken when the boy before C decided we weren't meant to be together, but it and I were not broken. I was hurt and my pride took a beating, but there was no more than surface bruising to my heart, which was healed as a friendship resumed and grew. Many of the other things that I might have said broke my heart really only screwed with my psyche in cruel ways. When I alienated a close friend, pieces of my heart began to chip off. But anger and rage walled up a defense around it so that the hurt couldn't penetrate as well. Thankfully, that was restored by her grace and understanding.
But this, this damaged my heart. There is some healing, but again, always a wicked scar. Not even a very good scar, as the wound is reopened at the most random things. I lost something I had expected to keep and I ran headfirst into grief that I have never felt before. This is why I am not the same. My heart is a little broken and at times I am still scrambling to keep it all together and intact. I didn't have to scramble before. I didn't have to inventory my feelings to aid the healing process. I didn't have to change the bandages on a wound that still seeps a little bit. Maybe this is a little more removed. I don't say that losing my baby changed everything, I say that it affected me in such a way as to change ME. What I carry around now, inside of me, is not the same heart that I used to love and forgive and celebrate with, it is changed and so am I.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
No More Work, Please
I didn't want to come to work today. I kept thinking of how I could call in sick. Good thing I didn't because no one was here when I arrived. Or twenty minutes later. Apparently, everyone had appointments or errands this morning, despite there being a big meeting at 9am. Okay, so I made the right decision. On to another decision.
I "interviewed" for the same job I interviewed for three times back in May. The supervisor called me about a week ago, hoping I remembered her, and said she wanted to talk to me about a position that opened up. Turns out, she wants to know if I'll be a good fit because she knows I can do the job. She doesn't want to make calls, look over applications, or do interviews, she just wants to know if I think that I'm seriously interested in working there. I've thought about it, talked to her, spent some time watching my potential future coworkers go about their tasks. I've discussed the opportunity with Mom, C, and AM. I think that I'll tell her yes, I believe this will work for me, for the department. See how much money they offer, knowing it will be less than I make now. Appreciating already that they've looked into arranging schedules so that I could continue with my master's program. What I told Mom and AM is that I can handle change all right, it's upheaval that gets me. We'll see, maybe they'll make it easy for me and reject me outright again.
I met our new neighbor last night. She seems really sweet and young (it was her birthday and she was turning 20). I'm sure that we'll find some common ground soon enough. Otherwise, class starts tonight and I'm a little anxious, but mostly because I am tired. If skipping all the pills I take for two days is the reason for being tired, it looks like I'm near dependent on a cocktail of vitamins. Wish I had something better to blog about - there is a post rattling around in my head, I'm just not sure I want to make those statements or declarations yet.
I "interviewed" for the same job I interviewed for three times back in May. The supervisor called me about a week ago, hoping I remembered her, and said she wanted to talk to me about a position that opened up. Turns out, she wants to know if I'll be a good fit because she knows I can do the job. She doesn't want to make calls, look over applications, or do interviews, she just wants to know if I think that I'm seriously interested in working there. I've thought about it, talked to her, spent some time watching my potential future coworkers go about their tasks. I've discussed the opportunity with Mom, C, and AM. I think that I'll tell her yes, I believe this will work for me, for the department. See how much money they offer, knowing it will be less than I make now. Appreciating already that they've looked into arranging schedules so that I could continue with my master's program. What I told Mom and AM is that I can handle change all right, it's upheaval that gets me. We'll see, maybe they'll make it easy for me and reject me outright again.
I met our new neighbor last night. She seems really sweet and young (it was her birthday and she was turning 20). I'm sure that we'll find some common ground soon enough. Otherwise, class starts tonight and I'm a little anxious, but mostly because I am tired. If skipping all the pills I take for two days is the reason for being tired, it looks like I'm near dependent on a cocktail of vitamins. Wish I had something better to blog about - there is a post rattling around in my head, I'm just not sure I want to make those statements or declarations yet.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Weekend Through Pictures
Oh, look everyone! Anne found her camera and knows how to use it (sort of) . . .
Told you all that I taught myself to knit. This might be the beginning of a terribly wide and short scarf. Perhaps. Knitting is a little tedious and stressful for me right now, so I knit in moderation. For those that care, the yarn is varying degrees of thickness (as to hide my many mistakes and dropped stitches) and a wonderful creamy color with a shot of sparkle. Knitted on 15 bamboo needles.
Told you all that I taught myself to knit. This might be the beginning of a terribly wide and short scarf. Perhaps. Knitting is a little tedious and stressful for me right now, so I knit in moderation. For those that care, the yarn is varying degrees of thickness (as to hide my many mistakes and dropped stitches) and a wonderful creamy color with a shot of sparkle. Knitted on 15 bamboo needles.
This is the remaining Pumpkin-Oatmeal Cookie from two dozen Friday night. I think that I just got lucky that little E liked them. And that his mom, dad, and my husband liked them. I apologize if my camera work doesn't make it look appetizing, because it really is.
This is the wonderful reddish burnt orange leather purse I picked up while shopping with AM and little E on Saturday. My mom found out after the fact that she bought it for me for my birthday. Picture doesn't do the color justice, but the leather looks very pretty.
I very quickly made little pocket pouches for my new purse because I think my old one clashes a bit. Perhaps it doesn't. While lovely in blue, these pouches don't function quite as well as the previous one. Can't compete with Maruca, I guess.
Bad picture. A wrap shirt made out of linen scraps in great colors. Unfinished because the arm holes and arms themselves seem like they're going to sew up WAY too small and by then, it will be far too late. Any suggestions? A wordier post is probably on it's way, but I wanted to get pictures up since I went through all the effort of taking them. I had a wonderful weekend.
Ears
This is the normal plug with black o-rings. I hate these because I've had at least three sizes where all I could find were clear, black, and PINK plugs and I am not a fan. The o-rings make the earring look bigger. These pictures are from last night and I'm at an 8 gauge.
This is the stretched out earring hole - you can almost see through it, but it doesn't look all that big. I'd also say that it's almost completely healed, yet still a little pink.
My super cool star bone spirals from Garuda. Love these and they are so comfortable - I can sleep in them, but they have to come out for shower time (so they aren't as convenient as the acrylic plugs). With the heat and moisture from the shower, healing piercings can ooze and expand - if you have an organic earring in, the healing stuff can seep into the earring and make it hard to disconnect it from the ear - big ouch. Or something like that. You shouldn't use organics for stretching anyway.
It's such a small ear.
This is the stretched out earring hole - you can almost see through it, but it doesn't look all that big. I'd also say that it's almost completely healed, yet still a little pink.
My super cool star bone spirals from Garuda. Love these and they are so comfortable - I can sleep in them, but they have to come out for shower time (so they aren't as convenient as the acrylic plugs). With the heat and moisture from the shower, healing piercings can ooze and expand - if you have an organic earring in, the healing stuff can seep into the earring and make it hard to disconnect it from the ear - big ouch. Or something like that. You shouldn't use organics for stretching anyway.
It's such a small ear.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Because I Have Nothing Better to Post
What were you doing ten years ago?
I was beginning the most miserable school year ever. Ninth grade in my hometown sucked badly. That year was the reason I switched schools (and met the girl that would introduce me to the boy who is C). I was also hating all of the baseball players in my advanced English class, especially the teacher's son, who (I found out later) she always sat next to me hoping that some intelligence would rub off. There was no rubbing, thanks.
What were you doing five years ago?
I have a very good idea, but don't want to admit to it. C and I had been "dating officially" for about a year and we'd been engaged for almost 5 months. I moved in with a girl I knew and her sister and life was good, but slowly became miserable (have I mentioned that I don't get along well with girls?). It was sophomore year, but I don't remember a lot about that - school wasn't my focus.
What were you doing one year ago?
We were driving to Minnesota with the inlaws and a smelly Beagle. We got the call that they accepted our offer on the house, so we realized that we'd be moving. It was a big weekend. There was some four-wheeling through the swampy areas too.
Five snacks you enjoy:
Craisins
Yogurt with Granola
Apples (HoneyCrisp + Yellow)
Tortilla Chips and Anything
Pita and Hummus
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
**Note: a million dollars doesn't go very far, but if I were a hundred millionaire:
Invest so that we could live off the interest
Pay off all our debts (possibly all of the families' too)
Donate some to libraries, women's shelters, and animal shelters
Quit my job and start a business that has something to do with books, organizing, or writing
Build the house out on M Creek Road and move home
Five bad habits:
I've written this one to death . . .
Five things you like doing:
C
Petting Bella & playing with Boris
Playing in the creek (if it's frozen, then playing in the snow)
Reading an engrossing book
Camping at the inlaws
Five things you’d never wear again:
Jeans with zippers up the back that ended at denim bows
Over-sized tee shirts and matching legging combos
That baby blue, tea length, strapless, white polka-dotted bridesmaids dress
Birkenstock-like sandals with white tube socks
Skirts short enough that shorts were already sewn in
Five favorite toys:
My Jeep
Giant butcher block
My books
My jewelry
Fabric
I was beginning the most miserable school year ever. Ninth grade in my hometown sucked badly. That year was the reason I switched schools (and met the girl that would introduce me to the boy who is C). I was also hating all of the baseball players in my advanced English class, especially the teacher's son, who (I found out later) she always sat next to me hoping that some intelligence would rub off. There was no rubbing, thanks.
What were you doing five years ago?
I have a very good idea, but don't want to admit to it. C and I had been "dating officially" for about a year and we'd been engaged for almost 5 months. I moved in with a girl I knew and her sister and life was good, but slowly became miserable (have I mentioned that I don't get along well with girls?). It was sophomore year, but I don't remember a lot about that - school wasn't my focus.
What were you doing one year ago?
We were driving to Minnesota with the inlaws and a smelly Beagle. We got the call that they accepted our offer on the house, so we realized that we'd be moving. It was a big weekend. There was some four-wheeling through the swampy areas too.
Five snacks you enjoy:
Craisins
Yogurt with Granola
Apples (HoneyCrisp + Yellow)
Tortilla Chips and Anything
Pita and Hummus
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
**Note: a million dollars doesn't go very far, but if I were a hundred millionaire:
Invest so that we could live off the interest
Pay off all our debts (possibly all of the families' too)
Donate some to libraries, women's shelters, and animal shelters
Quit my job and start a business that has something to do with books, organizing, or writing
Build the house out on M Creek Road and move home
Five bad habits:
I've written this one to death . . .
Five things you like doing:
C
Petting Bella & playing with Boris
Playing in the creek (if it's frozen, then playing in the snow)
Reading an engrossing book
Camping at the inlaws
Five things you’d never wear again:
Jeans with zippers up the back that ended at denim bows
Over-sized tee shirts and matching legging combos
That baby blue, tea length, strapless, white polka-dotted bridesmaids dress
Birkenstock-like sandals with white tube socks
Skirts short enough that shorts were already sewn in
Five favorite toys:
My Jeep
Giant butcher block
My books
My jewelry
Fabric
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Boris to Lose His Balls?
Proof that how you spend your time affects everything:
C: So it will be about $130 to get Boris fixed.
A: Oh, did you call the vet today?
C: I was interested, so I called a few days ago.
A: You've given up on studding him out?
C: Well, they would pay us in puppies and we don't need puppies.
A: He's not really that badly behaved, should we wait awhile? I mean, is this his most fertile time or does he become more or less fertile with age?
C: (gives A a very puzzled look while cocking his head much like Boris) I think he's always able to . . .
A: If I'm concerned about the quality of our dog's sperm, I've been spending too much time reading infertility blogs, huh?
C: Yeah, I think so.
C: So it will be about $130 to get Boris fixed.
A: Oh, did you call the vet today?
C: I was interested, so I called a few days ago.
A: You've given up on studding him out?
C: Well, they would pay us in puppies and we don't need puppies.
A: He's not really that badly behaved, should we wait awhile? I mean, is this his most fertile time or does he become more or less fertile with age?
C: (gives A a very puzzled look while cocking his head much like Boris) I think he's always able to . . .
A: If I'm concerned about the quality of our dog's sperm, I've been spending too much time reading infertility blogs, huh?
C: Yeah, I think so.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The Future Adornment
I've been drooling over earrings all day (really, all day). These are my favorite. Custom wood concave plugs from www.omericaorganic.com. It's not such shock that I enjoy all of this ear gauging when you consider the amount of control it gives me. I may not be able to plan a pregnancy, but I can stretch my ears as I see fit. I can cause more pain or let it be a minimal pain process. I choose what earrings I buy and wear. I can let them close up or I can make them bigger.
I can adorn myself with beautiful things.The Me I Used To Be
I blame the lack of words on my quiet period.
I used to be an attention stealer. I love attention, but can't handle when the attention is supposed to be on me. Speeches, presentations, and interviews are all painful, unless I'm interrupting them and becoming the new center of attention. I remember doing about anything for a laugh or smile. I played the willing clown throughout school.
I've had to work at fixing this because I figured out that it might get kind of annoying to my friends. They were conditioned to expect that erratic, over-the-top behavior from me, so now, when I sit here and am quiet, serious, or reflective - I think it kind of spooks them. In the smallest way, their pauses alert me that they are waiting for the next scene, the next larger-than-life demonstration or announcement (they wouldn't admit it, but I know they are wondering every time I call and want to get together if I'll be making that announcement or sharing that secret). I was the clown and I was good at it.
Now, I obsess, worry, think things over, and am quieter than I have ever been. There have been efforts made on my parts to bring to a halt the idiotic comments and verbal discharge. I kind of miss that girl - the freedom she felt to expose herself to ridicule. She was willing to say and do things just to make people smile and she didn't care what they thought. I'm definitely not as fun as I used to be.
I've thought a little about where that girl went away to and when this happened. I think she eroded bit by bit - some larger, some smaller bits. First semester at college kicked the crap out of me and I came home very apologetic towards everything and everyone. My serious boyfriend (and good friend) dumped me at the same time. I pepped up a little through college because I was having fun with C and company. I was even a little crazy, fun, and off-the-wall. Real life with houses and jobs and husbands hit me pretty hard. I instigated a terrible breakup with AM around June of 06 and that tore me to pieces. Devastation is not too severe a word to describe those feelings. Add a miscarriage on for good measure (loss of everything wanted and hoped for) and everything has led to a much more quiet and reserved version of me.
Sometimes the clown version pops up, but it's more occasional now than frequent. I used to have big issues about understanding consequences and the importance of maturity, but I've grown up. In growing up, I've lost parts of me and I'm not sure whether to mourn or be thankful. I sometimes wonder if C misses the girl he met and fell in love with. Then again, he's not the same person that I met six years ago either. We've grown up and evolved, but that doesn't make me miss the me I used to be any less. She was a lot of fun when she wasn't annoying.
I can't help but think she might return in a gentler version upon the birth of her first child. I have always had a strong love of anything "play" related (have you met my mom? - it's genetic). I want so much to play with my children. I think that I could find myself again in a little role called motherhood. Because, AM, I think you are doing the most wonderful, intelligent, and giving thing possible: raising your little E with love and knowledge. I don't question that it's hard and sometimes unrewarding, that there are struggles and compromises that I can't imagine. You have become a better version of yourself by being a mom to little E - no doubt. Enjoy your playtime today and I'll enjoy mine someday.
I used to be an attention stealer. I love attention, but can't handle when the attention is supposed to be on me. Speeches, presentations, and interviews are all painful, unless I'm interrupting them and becoming the new center of attention. I remember doing about anything for a laugh or smile. I played the willing clown throughout school.
I've had to work at fixing this because I figured out that it might get kind of annoying to my friends. They were conditioned to expect that erratic, over-the-top behavior from me, so now, when I sit here and am quiet, serious, or reflective - I think it kind of spooks them. In the smallest way, their pauses alert me that they are waiting for the next scene, the next larger-than-life demonstration or announcement (they wouldn't admit it, but I know they are wondering every time I call and want to get together if I'll be making that announcement or sharing that secret). I was the clown and I was good at it.
Now, I obsess, worry, think things over, and am quieter than I have ever been. There have been efforts made on my parts to bring to a halt the idiotic comments and verbal discharge. I kind of miss that girl - the freedom she felt to expose herself to ridicule. She was willing to say and do things just to make people smile and she didn't care what they thought. I'm definitely not as fun as I used to be.
I've thought a little about where that girl went away to and when this happened. I think she eroded bit by bit - some larger, some smaller bits. First semester at college kicked the crap out of me and I came home very apologetic towards everything and everyone. My serious boyfriend (and good friend) dumped me at the same time. I pepped up a little through college because I was having fun with C and company. I was even a little crazy, fun, and off-the-wall. Real life with houses and jobs and husbands hit me pretty hard. I instigated a terrible breakup with AM around June of 06 and that tore me to pieces. Devastation is not too severe a word to describe those feelings. Add a miscarriage on for good measure (loss of everything wanted and hoped for) and everything has led to a much more quiet and reserved version of me.
Sometimes the clown version pops up, but it's more occasional now than frequent. I used to have big issues about understanding consequences and the importance of maturity, but I've grown up. In growing up, I've lost parts of me and I'm not sure whether to mourn or be thankful. I sometimes wonder if C misses the girl he met and fell in love with. Then again, he's not the same person that I met six years ago either. We've grown up and evolved, but that doesn't make me miss the me I used to be any less. She was a lot of fun when she wasn't annoying.
I can't help but think she might return in a gentler version upon the birth of her first child. I have always had a strong love of anything "play" related (have you met my mom? - it's genetic). I want so much to play with my children. I think that I could find myself again in a little role called motherhood. Because, AM, I think you are doing the most wonderful, intelligent, and giving thing possible: raising your little E with love and knowledge. I don't question that it's hard and sometimes unrewarding, that there are struggles and compromises that I can't imagine. You have become a better version of yourself by being a mom to little E - no doubt. Enjoy your playtime today and I'll enjoy mine someday.
Monday, October 15, 2007
I Think I Lost My Thoughts on Interstate
I've been running my tail off assembling menus for the last six hours and while it's been a blast, my heart is not in it. What keeps you going, Anne? Good question.
I have things to do, that's what keeps me going. In case "things" sounds too vague and unstructured (you shouldn't have said that), here are the things:
I owe miss A, AM, and M letters, emails and phone calls. I miss them all terribly. I've missed M for, oh, about 14 years now and I'm so grateful that we both make the effort and still have many things in common. I've missed AM for a year and a half because that is when I became destructive and partially because of that decided to move away. Then again, I'm grateful for her grace and forgiveness and complete willingness to take me in again. I miss (miss) A because she was so much fun and she's way far away now, but I'm grateful that we have this chance to connect.
I still want to learn to knit. I found on online tutorial and I've got a gift certificate to JoAnn's in my pocket. I will be buying needles and yarn this week and making a go of it. Maybe you'll all get scarves, maybe you'll get the tiniest felted coin purses (they tell me that if you felt the knitted wool that you terribly messed up on - no one can tell).
Even if they are sad and dark and depressing, I have stories in me. Some of them may have the capacity to help others. Some of them may have the words to help me. Must find a way to let them go.
There are books to read and hopefully fancy Valentine's Day Anniversary parties to wear fabulous dresses to (that was supposed to be a pleasant nudge in the right direction, AM). Kitchens to keep somewhat sanitary and eventually remodel. Dogs to love on and raise up. Laundry to wash, fold, and put away. Dishes to cook. Friends to catch up with.
Friends were aplenty this weekend. I spoke with T&K on Friday evening and I adore them. I can't wait until they move up here and we can hang out and do dinner. Miss J called to catch up and sure enough, she left this state that wasn't the place for her and relocated. She's happy and that of course makes me happy. Lunch on Sunday with N&A was so much fun. They make me laugh and time flies in their company.
Food was aplenty this weekend. I did a little recipe email thing and decided to cook the easiest ones. Along with the rest of the apple crisp, there's a little Southwest Soup, Pineapple Chicken and Sweet Potatoes, and Cheesey Hashbrown Awesomeness in the fridge. The CHA will be gone as soon as C gets home, I'm sure. For this week, I'll be making Butternut Squash Soup (that's what I bought instead, AM) and Chicken Cheese Rice Wraps. Maybe Three Bean Chili.
Big question, was this enough to distract you, Anne? No, it was not. And while they say that you should do everything that you can before you get pregnant because it will be awhile before you'll be able to do it again - that's great. I've been sleeping on my stomach (good for digestion and terrible for the spine). There is nothing else. I don't enjoy alcohol, cigarettes, or caffeine much. Sushi is not on my radar, what are soft cheeses, and deli meat is gone with summer. I guess that I'll enjoy my hot showers when the weather gets colder. Any other ideas?
I have things to do, that's what keeps me going. In case "things" sounds too vague and unstructured (you shouldn't have said that), here are the things:
I owe miss A, AM, and M letters, emails and phone calls. I miss them all terribly. I've missed M for, oh, about 14 years now and I'm so grateful that we both make the effort and still have many things in common. I've missed AM for a year and a half because that is when I became destructive and partially because of that decided to move away. Then again, I'm grateful for her grace and forgiveness and complete willingness to take me in again. I miss (miss) A because she was so much fun and she's way far away now, but I'm grateful that we have this chance to connect.
I still want to learn to knit. I found on online tutorial and I've got a gift certificate to JoAnn's in my pocket. I will be buying needles and yarn this week and making a go of it. Maybe you'll all get scarves, maybe you'll get the tiniest felted coin purses (they tell me that if you felt the knitted wool that you terribly messed up on - no one can tell).
Even if they are sad and dark and depressing, I have stories in me. Some of them may have the capacity to help others. Some of them may have the words to help me. Must find a way to let them go.
There are books to read and hopefully fancy Valentine's Day Anniversary parties to wear fabulous dresses to (that was supposed to be a pleasant nudge in the right direction, AM). Kitchens to keep somewhat sanitary and eventually remodel. Dogs to love on and raise up. Laundry to wash, fold, and put away. Dishes to cook. Friends to catch up with.
Friends were aplenty this weekend. I spoke with T&K on Friday evening and I adore them. I can't wait until they move up here and we can hang out and do dinner. Miss J called to catch up and sure enough, she left this state that wasn't the place for her and relocated. She's happy and that of course makes me happy. Lunch on Sunday with N&A was so much fun. They make me laugh and time flies in their company.
Food was aplenty this weekend. I did a little recipe email thing and decided to cook the easiest ones. Along with the rest of the apple crisp, there's a little Southwest Soup, Pineapple Chicken and Sweet Potatoes, and Cheesey Hashbrown Awesomeness in the fridge. The CHA will be gone as soon as C gets home, I'm sure. For this week, I'll be making Butternut Squash Soup (that's what I bought instead, AM) and Chicken Cheese Rice Wraps. Maybe Three Bean Chili.
Big question, was this enough to distract you, Anne? No, it was not. And while they say that you should do everything that you can before you get pregnant because it will be awhile before you'll be able to do it again - that's great. I've been sleeping on my stomach (good for digestion and terrible for the spine). There is nothing else. I don't enjoy alcohol, cigarettes, or caffeine much. Sushi is not on my radar, what are soft cheeses, and deli meat is gone with summer. I guess that I'll enjoy my hot showers when the weather gets colder. Any other ideas?
Thursday, October 11, 2007
My Last Name
I never was okay with giving up my last name. That sounds resentful and I'm not. Not towards C or his family anyway - perhaps a little bit towards societal norms. I even like the sound and history behind his name better. By being married, I have the word BASH in my name and I think that's cool. Upon entering the social security office four months after we were married, I wasn't happy, but I had a plan. I was going to be Anne [middle name] + [current last name] + [C's last name]. There weren't blanks for that and I didn't ask or fight I just filled in Anne [middle name] [C's last name] and I lost my own last name. I've decided that I want it back. Not in a my-family-totally-rocks-more-than-your-family way, but because it is MY name.
I have made small stands since. Despite getting married a semester before I graduated from college, I insisted that my maiden name be on my diploma. Because {gosh darn it} I worked for three and a half years for this degree as a [insert maiden name] and I'll be damned if I'll graduate a [insert C's last name]. Any books I eventually write will be under my maiden name, or an alias if I'm not super proud of them. But I think that I need to reclaim my last name. One of these days I'll head back to the social security office and become Anne [maiden name] + [C's last name]. No hyphen, no mess. The children will not have hyphenated names either, they will be little bashes. I'm still considering using my maiden name as their middle names though; that is what C's mom did with her three boys. However, her maiden name was already a common boy's name and mine is not, so that is something to consider.
Sister B and I are/were the last ones with said name. Dad's father (Grandpa) had a daughter and a son and his son married my mom and had two girls. See the problem there? This is the discussion that I almost alienated my classmate over. He was arguing for the tradition that a woman in this society usually takes her husband's name. I don't necessarily disagree with that, as I myself did that very thing. I argue that his lineage potentially ending and him feeling he needs to keep it alive by passing his name to children is any more significant than my lineage ending and the same thing happening. I also argue the stereotypes that go along with a married woman who does not take her husband's name and the societal feeling in general that she just should. Why should my last name mean any less to me than a man's does to him? And why can't the majority of men understand that it has nothing to do with penis envy and everything to do with family and history, which we have just as much of as they do?
The rest of the world is just getting to me right now. I don't want to do this paper/presentation tonight for class because I've taken on a little more than I can handle. Work's been stressful and unrewarding. The results make me want to ask the sky what else can I do? I don't know where I'm at in the scheme of things and nothing is providing enough of a distraction. Living side by side with this thing is getting harder, but putting it before me is what I had been doing that created so much stress, and putting it behind me is akin to giving up.
I have made small stands since. Despite getting married a semester before I graduated from college, I insisted that my maiden name be on my diploma. Because {gosh darn it} I worked for three and a half years for this degree as a [insert maiden name] and I'll be damned if I'll graduate a [insert C's last name]. Any books I eventually write will be under my maiden name, or an alias if I'm not super proud of them. But I think that I need to reclaim my last name. One of these days I'll head back to the social security office and become Anne [maiden name] + [C's last name]. No hyphen, no mess. The children will not have hyphenated names either, they will be little bashes. I'm still considering using my maiden name as their middle names though; that is what C's mom did with her three boys. However, her maiden name was already a common boy's name and mine is not, so that is something to consider.
Sister B and I are/were the last ones with said name. Dad's father (Grandpa) had a daughter and a son and his son married my mom and had two girls. See the problem there? This is the discussion that I almost alienated my classmate over. He was arguing for the tradition that a woman in this society usually takes her husband's name. I don't necessarily disagree with that, as I myself did that very thing. I argue that his lineage potentially ending and him feeling he needs to keep it alive by passing his name to children is any more significant than my lineage ending and the same thing happening. I also argue the stereotypes that go along with a married woman who does not take her husband's name and the societal feeling in general that she just should. Why should my last name mean any less to me than a man's does to him? And why can't the majority of men understand that it has nothing to do with penis envy and everything to do with family and history, which we have just as much of as they do?
The rest of the world is just getting to me right now. I don't want to do this paper/presentation tonight for class because I've taken on a little more than I can handle. Work's been stressful and unrewarding. The results make me want to ask the sky what else can I do? I don't know where I'm at in the scheme of things and nothing is providing enough of a distraction. Living side by side with this thing is getting harder, but putting it before me is what I had been doing that created so much stress, and putting it behind me is akin to giving up.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
The Results Are In
Well, that unknown number on the phone was the dr's office. Everything looks good. My body is doing exactly what it is supposed to. Which is good. Unless.
Was I stressing out to the point that it affected my body? Is this all still my fault? Because I gave up all forms of tracking everything, I'm stuck in this place where I don't know anything, and that allows hope in, just a little. I don't like that. Hope is the gateway drug to disappointment, which leads to utter despair. But I'm being melodramatic.
A small, real part of me wishes that any one of the tests would have been slightly off. Then I could be treated for something that might have hindered this process. Instead, it all looks good and I'm fine and we have to just keep trying. How utterly boring.
Obviously, I'm saying a lot less than I could say and we'll leave it that way for now. I'll keep working on the Hawaiian Cream Pie recipe. It's a good one if anyone would like it.
Was I stressing out to the point that it affected my body? Is this all still my fault? Because I gave up all forms of tracking everything, I'm stuck in this place where I don't know anything, and that allows hope in, just a little. I don't like that. Hope is the gateway drug to disappointment, which leads to utter despair. But I'm being melodramatic.
A small, real part of me wishes that any one of the tests would have been slightly off. Then I could be treated for something that might have hindered this process. Instead, it all looks good and I'm fine and we have to just keep trying. How utterly boring.
Obviously, I'm saying a lot less than I could say and we'll leave it that way for now. I'll keep working on the Hawaiian Cream Pie recipe. It's a good one if anyone would like it.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
So Long and Short
It seems like I've been stuck at 167 posts forever. It is the number that strikes poses on my mind's catwalk (wait, hold that pose, pout those lips, NO! one-sixty-seven we aren't going for tramp here! you can eat later, shut up, hold that pose, don't look so fat, suck it in!).
As told to miss A, I don't care for short grain California rice anymore. Does that mean I'm predisposed to hate sushi?
C is cooking dinner tonight. That is what I'm telling him. I'm thinking that it's probably okay that we don't use the dining room table to eat at. It functions much better as a sewing table anyway.
That must be all because it's time to leave work.
As told to miss A, I don't care for short grain California rice anymore. Does that mean I'm predisposed to hate sushi?
C is cooking dinner tonight. That is what I'm telling him. I'm thinking that it's probably okay that we don't use the dining room table to eat at. It functions much better as a sewing table anyway.
That must be all because it's time to leave work.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Because I Don't Want the Last Post Hanging Over My Blog
It was a relaxing weekend, I guess, although there still isn't enough sleep found in one of those. Somehow, C still found 14 hours of the zzzzzz-laden stuff on Friday after a day of golfing. Me? I cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom and picked up the kitchen. Spent some time with C and some time with the tv and more time avoiding thoughts of my final project/presentation on Thursday. It was funny, C told me that I was doing a fantastic job of not stressing out and I remained silent. "Aren't you? You aren't stressing out, are you?" is what he had to say to that. I'm doing a better job probably.
When cleaning out the cabinet in the bathroom, I pushed all of the prenatal crap to the back and threw out the rest of my prenatal vitamins. That's destressing for you.
Oh, and I made a beautiful apple crisp that tastes divine + biscuits and gravy + plans for amazing crockpot dinners this week. I could go for some rice and veggies about now . . .
When cleaning out the cabinet in the bathroom, I pushed all of the prenatal crap to the back and threw out the rest of my prenatal vitamins. That's destressing for you.
Oh, and I made a beautiful apple crisp that tastes divine + biscuits and gravy + plans for amazing crockpot dinners this week. I could go for some rice and veggies about now . . .
Friday, October 5, 2007
Bad Habit & the Standard of Care
Ahhh, don't think I'm not scared. I am terrified, only this time, knowingly because I am very aware what could happen. But fear never stopped the good girls in the 50s from getting knocked up, so it shouldn't work here. I keep thinking about my subconscious sabotaging our best efforts, but I think that's nearly impossible. I was terrified the first time and the second time, whenever that is, will be no different. But I'm tired of thinking about all of this. I need to be grateful that I have the luxury of time.
Anyway, I exhibit a few very telling habits when I'm anxious (we're now avoiding the use of the word "stress"). I've never bitten my nails, but I will bite, pull, tear and scratch at my hangnails. I will create hangnails just for those purposes. My fingers are usually in some state of disrepair and I've torn off the skin around my thumbs more times than I can count. It's become such a habit that I won't realize I'm doing it until C slaps my hands or it starts to hurt. Then I become responsible and go cut the hangnails and bandage my fingers. I'm surprised by how fast the area around my thumb heals (and how many times).
C has tried to tell me that it is self-mutilation, but I think that is just him assigning an alarming word to a bad habit. Sometimes I pick at my fingers because I'm bored or tired, so it doesn't represent some underlying issue to me. He even says that that's why Bella chews at her feet - because she sees her mom pick. Right, C. The escalation of this habit is what bothers me. And we don't need to talk about that right now.
Class was interesting last night. I probably embarrassed myself. The book we read dealt in part with a mother who had twins and her husband, the doctor that delivered them, told her that the baby girl was stillborn (The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards). The baby girl had the markers for Down's and he sent her with his nurse to a home and instead the nurse raised her. So, in a nutshell, even though we know the little girl is alive and the doctor dad knows, the wife is essentially dealing with the loss of her child for the next 25 years (until she finds out). I am a little sensitive about miscarriage/stillborn issues (I am also aware that they are different, but for my arguments in class, loss is loss).
I started talking about the lack of a standard of care for miscarriages and stillbirths. It resonates because I had a conversation with a coworker recently. She had a miscarriage in the mid-80s and they knew it was going to happen due to an early sonogram. She kept the tissue that she identified as the baby and her doctor asked her if she would put it in a jar and bring it in. She said that she did it with no questions asked and she trusted the doctor to do the right thing with it. She later spoke with her sister-in-law, who had a stillborn baby in the early 70s. What is haunting that woman now is that she never saw the baby and she has no idea what they did with it. I've heard stories and I'm under the impression that unless alternate arrangements are made and vocalized, miscarriages are treated like abortions (that's what they call them) and either incinerated or disposed of as medical waste. I'm sure they used to do the same with stillborns, but I am sitting here hoping to god that most hospitals now have policies in place that give these children some sort of respect. Before either of those stories came to me, I had begun to wonder what the tiny baby they took from me looked like. I want to read the report for details and clues. I really want to not think about my baby, the child we rested our hopes and dreams on for a few short weeks, being treated like trash. But who is thinking about that as their entire frame of reference tilts 180 degrees?
Some hospitals and doctors are working on a standard offering of care in these cases. The clinic I used to work for has a very important policy that bleeding obstetric patients are our primary concern. Always. If I still lived in that town and called in bleeding that morning, they would have had me in the office for an ultrasound in less than 4 hours. I don't think that would have ultimately changed anything, but the fact that they were concerned and ready to do anything to help me would have let me know they cared about me and the baby. And without a whole strategic outline, that's what the medical profession needs to adopt as a standard of care: a caring attitude towards the hurting, lost, disgraced and grieving. Maybe throw some empathy and grace in for good measure, but with those, I'm probably asking for too much.
Anyway, I exhibit a few very telling habits when I'm anxious (we're now avoiding the use of the word "stress"). I've never bitten my nails, but I will bite, pull, tear and scratch at my hangnails. I will create hangnails just for those purposes. My fingers are usually in some state of disrepair and I've torn off the skin around my thumbs more times than I can count. It's become such a habit that I won't realize I'm doing it until C slaps my hands or it starts to hurt. Then I become responsible and go cut the hangnails and bandage my fingers. I'm surprised by how fast the area around my thumb heals (and how many times).
C has tried to tell me that it is self-mutilation, but I think that is just him assigning an alarming word to a bad habit. Sometimes I pick at my fingers because I'm bored or tired, so it doesn't represent some underlying issue to me. He even says that that's why Bella chews at her feet - because she sees her mom pick. Right, C. The escalation of this habit is what bothers me. And we don't need to talk about that right now.
Class was interesting last night. I probably embarrassed myself. The book we read dealt in part with a mother who had twins and her husband, the doctor that delivered them, told her that the baby girl was stillborn (The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards). The baby girl had the markers for Down's and he sent her with his nurse to a home and instead the nurse raised her. So, in a nutshell, even though we know the little girl is alive and the doctor dad knows, the wife is essentially dealing with the loss of her child for the next 25 years (until she finds out). I am a little sensitive about miscarriage/stillborn issues (I am also aware that they are different, but for my arguments in class, loss is loss).
I started talking about the lack of a standard of care for miscarriages and stillbirths. It resonates because I had a conversation with a coworker recently. She had a miscarriage in the mid-80s and they knew it was going to happen due to an early sonogram. She kept the tissue that she identified as the baby and her doctor asked her if she would put it in a jar and bring it in. She said that she did it with no questions asked and she trusted the doctor to do the right thing with it. She later spoke with her sister-in-law, who had a stillborn baby in the early 70s. What is haunting that woman now is that she never saw the baby and she has no idea what they did with it. I've heard stories and I'm under the impression that unless alternate arrangements are made and vocalized, miscarriages are treated like abortions (that's what they call them) and either incinerated or disposed of as medical waste. I'm sure they used to do the same with stillborns, but I am sitting here hoping to god that most hospitals now have policies in place that give these children some sort of respect. Before either of those stories came to me, I had begun to wonder what the tiny baby they took from me looked like. I want to read the report for details and clues. I really want to not think about my baby, the child we rested our hopes and dreams on for a few short weeks, being treated like trash. But who is thinking about that as their entire frame of reference tilts 180 degrees?
Some hospitals and doctors are working on a standard offering of care in these cases. The clinic I used to work for has a very important policy that bleeding obstetric patients are our primary concern. Always. If I still lived in that town and called in bleeding that morning, they would have had me in the office for an ultrasound in less than 4 hours. I don't think that would have ultimately changed anything, but the fact that they were concerned and ready to do anything to help me would have let me know they cared about me and the baby. And without a whole strategic outline, that's what the medical profession needs to adopt as a standard of care: a caring attitude towards the hurting, lost, disgraced and grieving. Maybe throw some empathy and grace in for good measure, but with those, I'm probably asking for too much.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Silent Man's Control
I've been trying really hard lately to de-stress my life. Knowing that the boys agree that I'm a little "intense." C mentioning that I haven't always been that way. It got me thinking.
A comment my very first boyfriend made has stuck with me for a few years. It was an awkward, but fun relationship when I was 15 and he was 17. I still don't know what he meant by it. He told me that if I was his daughter, he'd never let me date. I'm even more confused now and at the time I was offended and probably hit him. I hit him a lot. It was a way to be physical without actually being the "bad" type of physical. I broke up with him a few months later and any friendship we had deteriorated into this hostile silent period. I later thought that it was something akin to psychological abuse, but he reiterated that the silence was merely the way he dealt with something that hurt that badly. In our next year of school we had at least 4 of our 8 classes together and he ignored me. When he wasn't doing that, we made the area around us very uncomfortable for our friends. The second thing I didn't quite understand was for our version of prom that year (Banquet) he was the one that gave me my gift (seniors gave funny presents to the juniors and vice versa). A straitjacket. Not a real one, but that was the intention. So, was I out of control then? I was embarrassed because I thought it reflected on how I conducted myself and we all know that image in high school is everything. It was also another barb from him.
I'm left wondering if I had the tendency before all of this to be so single minded and sole purposed. Driven, perhaps? What was I saying to AM this weekend? Misguided dedication? I've reined in so much selfish and destructive behavior, but maybe I've only redirected the feelings behind it into other outlets. I've always been the girl with buttons and if you push them, stand back for your own personal safety. I run my mouth and sacrifice my body for issues and causes that are important to me. I want to change your attitude and your complete way of thinking.
Maybe what I'm getting at is that all of the rituals and routines that made me feel like I was doing something, helping everything along, were harder to give up than I thought. I sat on the edge of the bed last night and stared at the folder that holds all previous documentation. It'd be good to write it all down again, but then I'd revert to my obsessive compulsions and those were not helpful or healthy. So I left it there, untouched. One of these days, I'll put it away along with the Intro to Crack Cocaine book (alternatively known as TCOYF). It's not taunting me yet, or my do-nothing de-stressing dreams, but I am being given the occasional glassy stare of abandonment. Because I am better off this way, right? Less out-of-control? Less intense and obsessed? Perhaps healthier? Whatever, we each do what we can to help our own situations. That's possibly all we can ask of ourselves. And not to take those pills - you can always ask yourself to not take the blue ones.
A comment my very first boyfriend made has stuck with me for a few years. It was an awkward, but fun relationship when I was 15 and he was 17. I still don't know what he meant by it. He told me that if I was his daughter, he'd never let me date. I'm even more confused now and at the time I was offended and probably hit him. I hit him a lot. It was a way to be physical without actually being the "bad" type of physical. I broke up with him a few months later and any friendship we had deteriorated into this hostile silent period. I later thought that it was something akin to psychological abuse, but he reiterated that the silence was merely the way he dealt with something that hurt that badly. In our next year of school we had at least 4 of our 8 classes together and he ignored me. When he wasn't doing that, we made the area around us very uncomfortable for our friends. The second thing I didn't quite understand was for our version of prom that year (Banquet) he was the one that gave me my gift (seniors gave funny presents to the juniors and vice versa). A straitjacket. Not a real one, but that was the intention. So, was I out of control then? I was embarrassed because I thought it reflected on how I conducted myself and we all know that image in high school is everything. It was also another barb from him.
I'm left wondering if I had the tendency before all of this to be so single minded and sole purposed. Driven, perhaps? What was I saying to AM this weekend? Misguided dedication? I've reined in so much selfish and destructive behavior, but maybe I've only redirected the feelings behind it into other outlets. I've always been the girl with buttons and if you push them, stand back for your own personal safety. I run my mouth and sacrifice my body for issues and causes that are important to me. I want to change your attitude and your complete way of thinking.
Maybe what I'm getting at is that all of the rituals and routines that made me feel like I was doing something, helping everything along, were harder to give up than I thought. I sat on the edge of the bed last night and stared at the folder that holds all previous documentation. It'd be good to write it all down again, but then I'd revert to my obsessive compulsions and those were not helpful or healthy. So I left it there, untouched. One of these days, I'll put it away along with the Intro to Crack Cocaine book (alternatively known as TCOYF). It's not taunting me yet, or my do-nothing de-stressing dreams, but I am being given the occasional glassy stare of abandonment. Because I am better off this way, right? Less out-of-control? Less intense and obsessed? Perhaps healthier? Whatever, we each do what we can to help our own situations. That's possibly all we can ask of ourselves. And not to take those pills - you can always ask yourself to not take the blue ones.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Not Much Drama
I enjoy looking out the sliver of window available to me. There is almost an atrium between these two buildings and the foliage is so green and, at the moment because of the rain, shiny. I can see a tall tree in the middle with ivy up the side. Sometimes we see the squirrels build their nests and Chip (the chipmunk) comes out to gather winter provisions. It's not a bad view from the office window.
So is this life really about perspective? Last night was a lazy night and I mostly read my book for class (The Memory Keeper's Daughter) and watched whatever was on. C spent most of the evening in the back room (brilliant idea letting him install a tv right above the computer monitor on his desk). I wasn't at all offended because I had things to do, i.e. homework. And I was super lazy and made us mac&cheese for an early dinner.
Brain's been kind of fuzzy lately and maybe that's a good thing. It could mean that I'm letting go of the things I can't control. Or that I'm finding a less stressful version of my life. Possibly, I have an inoperable brain tumor resting on some significant portion of my brain. Or this is what happens when I don't take all of my supplements and vitamins for two days. I have definitely had more headaches (brain tumor again?). Either way, it seems there is less to write about when I'm not in the throes of my inner monologue's drama.
So is this life really about perspective? Last night was a lazy night and I mostly read my book for class (The Memory Keeper's Daughter) and watched whatever was on. C spent most of the evening in the back room (brilliant idea letting him install a tv right above the computer monitor on his desk). I wasn't at all offended because I had things to do, i.e. homework. And I was super lazy and made us mac&cheese for an early dinner.
Brain's been kind of fuzzy lately and maybe that's a good thing. It could mean that I'm letting go of the things I can't control. Or that I'm finding a less stressful version of my life. Possibly, I have an inoperable brain tumor resting on some significant portion of my brain. Or this is what happens when I don't take all of my supplements and vitamins for two days. I have definitely had more headaches (brain tumor again?). Either way, it seems there is less to write about when I'm not in the throes of my inner monologue's drama.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Chronological Updates
It seems like all it takes is a few days and either nothing has happened or lots has happened. I am tired, which could mean that a lot happened, I forgot to refill my vitamin D prescription, or both. If I start at the beginning:
Went home Friday and C's parents's blue heeler, Loci, is really trying to walk. She's up to 10 feet all in this weekend. What happened is that a month and a half ago she was stuck for an unknown number of hours in the mud. When this happens to cattle or horses, they usually struggle so much that they break a leg(s) and have to be put down. She merely strained about every muscle in her body and has severe nerve damage (all per the vet). This means that she didn't walk. At all. And lost a whole lot of muscle tone. C's parents have been working with her via some water therapy and a walker/sling and she sat up right before we arrived on Friday. I think she was so happy to see C, maybe me, that she wanted to show us she was trying to get better. She is a fighter and a really strong spirited dog, but I was concerned about how much she would even try at 11 years old. There's another point for the blue heeler breed. I now have no doubt that she'll make a full recovery - thanks in no small part to C's parents and their unwavering dedication.
C and I got to meet his youngest brother's (brother D) girlfriend at dinner Saturday night. She got to meet a whole lot of the family at dinner. I would be intimidated, but she seemed very collected and sweet. I hope to spend more time getting to know her when she's back for Thanksgiving.
Sometime on Saturday, C and R decided to drive out to the adjacent state and pick up a Volvo to repair the one R&AM already have. They left for the 14+ hour trip at midnight on Saturday and returned to us (me and AM) late Sunday evening hopped up on energy drinks and with a beautiful blue Volvo. I really hope that this results in a well-equipped Volvo for AM because she loves that station wagon. I'm partial to the road trip we took to San Antonio with the Volvo. And the sunroof and comfy seats. Especially the muscle building lack of power steering.
I spent a lot of time with AM and little E this weekend. He's shaping up into a little human being and it's fantastic to watch. Oh, and Ugly Betty on DVD isn't bad. Made better when little V is asleep on you.
A friend was in a vehicle accident and my heart goes out to him and his family. I think everything will be okay, but that's only based on what I know. Fires are never good in those situations. Another friend has some wonderful news that she's almost ready to share. The end result will be beautiful, I'm sure. Ups and downs and so ends another weekend, plunging us into the dreary work week, only to be followed by another weekend.
Went home Friday and C's parents's blue heeler, Loci, is really trying to walk. She's up to 10 feet all in this weekend. What happened is that a month and a half ago she was stuck for an unknown number of hours in the mud. When this happens to cattle or horses, they usually struggle so much that they break a leg(s) and have to be put down. She merely strained about every muscle in her body and has severe nerve damage (all per the vet). This means that she didn't walk. At all. And lost a whole lot of muscle tone. C's parents have been working with her via some water therapy and a walker/sling and she sat up right before we arrived on Friday. I think she was so happy to see C, maybe me, that she wanted to show us she was trying to get better. She is a fighter and a really strong spirited dog, but I was concerned about how much she would even try at 11 years old. There's another point for the blue heeler breed. I now have no doubt that she'll make a full recovery - thanks in no small part to C's parents and their unwavering dedication.
C and I got to meet his youngest brother's (brother D) girlfriend at dinner Saturday night. She got to meet a whole lot of the family at dinner. I would be intimidated, but she seemed very collected and sweet. I hope to spend more time getting to know her when she's back for Thanksgiving.
Sometime on Saturday, C and R decided to drive out to the adjacent state and pick up a Volvo to repair the one R&AM already have. They left for the 14+ hour trip at midnight on Saturday and returned to us (me and AM) late Sunday evening hopped up on energy drinks and with a beautiful blue Volvo. I really hope that this results in a well-equipped Volvo for AM because she loves that station wagon. I'm partial to the road trip we took to San Antonio with the Volvo. And the sunroof and comfy seats. Especially the muscle building lack of power steering.
I spent a lot of time with AM and little E this weekend. He's shaping up into a little human being and it's fantastic to watch. Oh, and Ugly Betty on DVD isn't bad. Made better when little V is asleep on you.
A friend was in a vehicle accident and my heart goes out to him and his family. I think everything will be okay, but that's only based on what I know. Fires are never good in those situations. Another friend has some wonderful news that she's almost ready to share. The end result will be beautiful, I'm sure. Ups and downs and so ends another weekend, plunging us into the dreary work week, only to be followed by another weekend.
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