Over at the Other Blog

As is usual, I emailed a draft of my Valley Girl column to the editors at The Monitor. Not that they ever actually edit what I send in; it's more of a courtesy before I post the final version Wednesday night.

This evening as I'm tinkering with this week's column on Pepe's on the River (a giant tiki hut/bar/dance club alongside the Rio Grande where I will take you if you ever come visit), I see an email from the online editor. They're suspending my blog while they rig up new blog software and introduce a whole bunch of new blogs on their website.

Huh?

They'll post this week's column as an Online Exclusive, but they don't know what will happen in the near future. Will keep me posted, they say.

Since it's billing time, I went onto The Monitor's website to get the dates and titles of this month's VG postings. Only to find that all the ARCHIVES are gone, too, meaning I can't click on the Valley Girl feed and see ALL my columns anymore. I'm seriously bumming about that.

I haven't made printouts of all the columns, erroneously assuming there would be an online archive for my portfolio. Whoops. I emailed the editor to ask if that feature would be part of the new software, but I haven't heard back. Sigh...

Rhymes with ...

Went to a new Dr today to get some intestinal troubles checked out. Things have been a little not normal since the trip to Lake Powell. Since it hasn't just gone away by itself, it's time to investigate further. This involves blood work, three days' worth of samples and a pelvic/abdominal scan tomorrow morning.

Which is why I'm still awake and blogging at 12:13 am. I'm putting off drinking the 16 ounces of berry-flavored barium (berry-um?) I have to consume before bed. And another 16 ounces one hour before my appointment tomorrow morning. Dreading it!

I would not have known the berry-um was necessary had I not popped by the imaging center after my Dr appointment and asked what I needed to do. The desk clerk took my info and came back with two bottles of barium for me. The Dr's nurse just said to make sure I was fasting and to take the paperwork over tomorrow morning. Good thing I went and asked myself. Sheesh, people.

Anyway, the investigating has begun. I hope it's not anything icky/serious, but if I have to go to the trouble of crapping in a cup for three days [this is not easy to do, BTW], I kinda don't want to hear "Everything came back normal" or its companion, "It must all be in your head."

I guess I can't put off the barium any longer. Grrr.

Three Eurekas

Eureka 1: During a weekend cleaning bout, I finally found the George Foreman Grill and my pepper grinder in the garage. Only 15 months after moving here. Now if I can find the shoe racks...

Eureka 2: Jack FM comes to the RGV. When the Jack format took over a beloved local station in LA, it was a shock. However, the radio scene here is so bleak (NPR programming only during am/pm commute hours, insipid pop/top 40 and one heavy metal station that occasionally spun a classic rock tune), Jack is a welcome addition to the dial.

Eureka 3: Joaquin The Hair God gave me my first decent haircut in Texas on Saturday. And I'll pay LA prices for his skill. He took my shaggy, growing out 'do and coaxed it into a cute, short layered bob that I am absolutely THRILLED with. See for yourself:

BEFORE (David the Hair God's September cut before it got all shaggy)



(Little Brother modeling the shirt I did not wear to the Shakespeare reading)

AFTER



It may not look hugely different, but this one will be a lot easier to manage while it's getting longer. Who knows, maybe I'll keep it short.

Best at something worthwhile

On the drive back from San Antonio, the conversation took many twists and turns--from the software demo we'd seen to solving problems on campus to the conditions in the colonias where a number of Pan Am students live.

My supervisor said that the house where our two work study students live didn't have doors, windows, indoor plumbing or electricity when she first met their family fifteen years ago. They still don't have heat or air conditioning and many dwellings in their neighborhood are still without services or amenities most of us take for granted.

I have a hard time wrapping my head around this.

My supervisor's church group adopted the colonia where our work study students live and she talked about the service projects they did. Parties for all the kids who graduated high school. Christmas presents every year for every kid enrolled in school from kindergarten to college. Groups from the church would work on various homes in the neighborhood doing wiring, putting in plumbing, roofing, siding, windows, etc.

Last weekend, I spoke with some people whose church also organizes work groups to send to colonias around the Valley. I'm planning on going along on a construction trip for a Valley Girl column.

A few weeks ago at General Conference, the new RS president exhorted LDS women to be the BEST at things like keeping house. Makes me wonder, why aren't we as a church the BEST at addressing social issues, peace and justice, environmental issues, hunger or poverty?

I've never heard anyone in my ward or stake mention colonias. Our big ward service project was for one of our own and the project made a major difference in her life. But when we have neighbors who have dirt floors and don't have ELECTRICITY, AC or heat in this beastly climate, shouldn't we be doing something MORE?

Road Tripping

Drove to San Antonio Wednesday night with my supervisor, the compliance officer and a rep from IT to check out some software that will take Time & Effort reporting to new heights. New system will be web based, paperless and far superior to the bailing wire and chewing gum system we use now.

We got in late Wednesday night and ended up dining at Applebee's. We parked under a streetlight that attracted swarms of crickets and grasshoppers. One hopper snuck into the van and made for a fun drive back to the hotel.

The Tempurpedic mattress was AWESOME. Best night's sleep I've had in a while.

We met in the lobby for breakfast and headed to campus for the meeting. It went the whole 3 hours, between the software demo and our questions about the system's specs. It will take a lot of coordination for three campuses to swing a joint implementation, but the results (and resulting savings) will be worth it.

As is my habit, I scoped out restaurant recommendations on Chowhound.com before the trip. Fortunately, one of the Thai recommendations was between our hotel and campus. I pitched the suggestion to the group and we all enjoyed a scrumptious meal at Thai Pikul. Green curry with veggies and shrimp. Mmmmmm. Must go to meetings in S.A. more often.

Then, back on the road. I ended up riding shotgun. We were so absorbed in our conversation that we missed our turnoff. One detour and many small towns later, we were back on Highway 281 headed south.

We were a few miles past the Border Patrol checkpoint at Fafurrias when I saw a Border Patrol vehicle going northbound pull into the U turn lane. Next, we saw a white minivan in front of us swerve to the shoulder and then run off the road. We watched as the driver leaped out of the still-moving van and made a run for it.

Our driver pulled over, thinking it was an accident and that we should help. Then we saw the Border Patrol vehicle go chasing after the runner with lights flashing. We urged our driver to get us back on the road--our involvement was not needed.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. I chatted with my supervisor in the parking lot after we were dropped off. Got an earful about a "loyalty hire" and some other goings-on. Will be interesting to see how things play out.

First Sunday in the New Weird

Sunday was the first meeting of our newly configured ward. At the chapel doors, young men passed out information sheets for us to fill out--name, contact info, previous callings, etc.

Sacrament meeting opened normally, then the counselor announced that we would all come up to the pulpit pew by pew to introduce ourselves to our new ward family. It was a plodding process. A few introductions were funny, some revealing; others were mini-sermons. Several speakers mentioned their callings in the new ward, so I guess the new bishopric had been staffing up since the changes were announced.

I seized the opportunity to introduce myself using my last name. Since Mike attended our old ward first, I became Sister HisName regardless. I'd just as soon have other adults skip the whole Sister thing and call me by my first name.

It took more than an hour to get through the 25 families in attendance. Afterward, we were dismissed to Sunday School without any helpful meta-information about how the ward would run. Some people had new callings, but there were still significant vacancies and it wasn't clear what the rest of us were supposed to do. Perform our old callings until told otherwise?

They skirted the lack of a SS teacher by having the adults watch a video: The Lamb of God. Even with the high production values, there's something soul-leaching about watching the crucifixion. It's why I avoided Mel Gibson's version. The church version was still violent; at the worst moments, there were shots of Jesus' hand, writhing in off-screen agony. I don't buy that violence begets spirituality, so this was not pleasant to sit through.

On to the third installment of the day's discomfort: a RS lesson on Honorable, Happy, Successful Marriage. We were 0 for 3 over the weekend, so this lesson was a guaranteed suckfest.

Only two RS-connected people stayed in the ward; I planned to conduct and the remaining teacher planned to teach as scheduled. When we arrived, another woman who'd been a counselor in the branch RS presidency said she'd been asked to conduct/handle RS. Patsy and I gladly stood down, but that would have been nice to know!

So far, it's the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing--and not in a good way. I won't be there next Sunday, so I hope they'll have things better organized in a couple of weeks.

Fan Base

As mentioned, it was a busy weekend for Valley Girl between the Art Walk Friday night and Palmfest Saturday and Sunday.

One of the stores I wrote about recently--Bath Junkie--had a booth at the Palmfest mercado. I stopped by to say hello and the owner effusively complimented the VG article and said she'd forwarded to the franchise owner and various people at corporate HQ. I asked if anyone had come in after reading it. The owner said no, but she hoped people would see it and stop in.

I posted an extra column about Palmfest Sunday morning and Mike and I went over for a couple of hours after I picked him up at the airport. We bumped into his department chair and his wife at the book sale. Linda mentioned she was a faithful VG reader and recently took her mother to the tea room/antique shop I'd written about. She gave me a couple of suggestions for future VG field trips.

On the way out, we walked by the Bath Junkie booth again. Just as we walked up, one of the workers told a woman standing at the booth "That's her right there," meaning me. "That's Valley Girl?!" she said. Yup, that's me. We introduced ourselves and Sandy told me she LOVES the column, LOVES Pink Martini and gets ideas for things to do with her Girl Scout troop from Valley Girl. Tee hee.

I also checked the email account I set up for VG mail and found 23 messages. Most were weekly arts announcements, but there was a note from a woman who moved here recently and asked my advice about how to make friends, so I dropped her a line. And the next day, I received another email from a faithful reader in Harlingen suggesting I visit the corn maze in Donna.

Aside from the occasional email, people rarely leave comments on VG posts. I don't know people read it unless they TELL me they read it. When I've asked the deputy managing editor or the online editor what VG readership stats are, I never get a response. So to have a few more people tell me they read faithfully and really enjoy the column, well, it makes my day. :)

I Feel Zitty, Oh So Zitty!

This morning I checked in with the dermatologist. He had me stop taking antibiotics 3 months ago and he wanted to see how I was doing.

Not well, since I also stopped taking the androgen blocking pill after our trip to CA in September and have only been using the topical stuff. And have been breaking out big time the last couple of weeks.

While in Cali, I ran the drug by my chiropractor who does muscle testing to see if foods, drugs, supplements or other substances are what your body needs or doesn't need. (I know a lot of folks think chiropractic care is bunk; all I know is I felt better and didn't get sick as often with regular visits to mine).

The chiropractor muscle tested the androgen blocker and said my body's response to the drug was not just no, it was HELL NO.

The dermatologist says my skin won't stay clear without some form of systemic treatment--be it antibiotics again, going back on the androgen blocker, taking birth control pills or the big guns: Accutane.

When I talked about Accutane with my HMO dermatologist two years ago, he refused to prescribe it unless I was on 3 forms of birth control--not 2 forms as the guidelines mandated. This was the same guy who said I didn't have an acne problem until I whipped off my shirt and forced him to actually LOOK. Bring up Accutane and suddenly he becomes physician-of-the-year-thorough.

None of my present options are that appealing. I'll try benzoyl peroxide during the day to see if that keeps things in check. Otherwise, it's a matter of picking the least onerous Rx.

Now We're Cookin'

Suddenly, I'm all about the blogging. And cooking.

I promised Mike I would clean out the freezer while he was gone. It's packed with vegetables and chicken carcasses destined to become stock using Fugue Salad's recipe once I got around to it.

As I was putting groceries away, I knocked the bottom shelf off the fridge door and all the bottles housed there fell on the floor, including the bottle of Secret Ingredient. Which started to hiss, fizz and leak. So I made stock tonight instead of roasting a chicken like I'd planned. Now it's looking like I'll need to make two batches to make a noticeable dent.

I also need to juice and zest the bag of lemons our neighbor gave us and the ones I picked up at church. (The bishop and another family bring 10 gallon buckets filed with lemons to share). I've been freezing the juice in ice cube trays.

I bumped into one of my former RS coworkers at the store tonight. She's not happy about the changes, either. We would have drawn different boundary lines, we decided.
She's already missing Sister B., who's an endless source of plucky comic relief.

I'm glad we get to keep Sister B; she's a hoot. Reminds me of a Latina Joan Rivers--always dressed to the nines and providing running color commentary to anyone sitting nearby. People marveled that I got her to say the closing prayer in RS once. (I told her she could have the last word and she cracked up. I figured that was close enough to an agreement and when they called her name, she got up and said the prayer).

Hmmm. Mike was supposed to Skype me tonight and I haven't heard from him. Maybe I'll try to get him then trundle off to bed.

The Weekend Ahead

With an ad like this, how could I resist?

http://www.mcallenartwalk.com/index.php?&MMN_position=1:1



If there's a T shirt with a mustachioed Frieda Khalo, it's coming home with me.

Saturday and Sunday, it's PalmFest, McAllen's art and film festival. International artists, dancers, storytellers, equestrians and performers will be there, plus a festival of short films running concurrently. Since it's Texas, there will be a fajita and pan de campo cook off. Mmmmmm.

Valley Girl will have plenty to write about this week. Next weekend, I'm getting a shotgun and skeet shooting lesson courtesy of Tejas Shooting Sports so that on November 3rd, I can participate in the local Masonic Lodge's fall scholarship fundraiser/skeet shoot.

Twas only two degrees of separation between me and the Masons: One of my early VG columns was on Books N Things (cf: endless shelves of romance novels). The manager there mentioned her husband drove a shuttle bus at the University.

A few months after I'd been hired by the University, I was running late and had to park in a faraway lot. On the walk to my office, I saw a shuttle bus parked at a stop. On a whim, I asked the driver if he was Vickie's husband. Bingo!

We chatted and he asked if I could write something about their upcoming scholarship event. They were hoping to get some publicity and sponsorship and I was happy to oblige--and milk a column or two out of it. If my hand-eye coordination cooperates, I'll be knocking clay pigeons outta the sky real soon, y'all.

I'm Official

I got my new business cards this week!

That's all for the moment.