I'd forgotten about the changes to Blogger until an email reminder showed up in my in box, helpfully informing me that my entire blog would be disabled/inaccessible if I didn't migrate it by 4/30.
Then there was the chore of logging into my account, trying to recall which password I'd last used, Blogger saying my account wasn't recognized, and having to turn to my backup account to reset the password and make everything OK again.
Apparently, I was successful. Though I haven't blogged in maybe a year, I didn't want to lose all the posts about life as a newlywed in South Texas and all the crazy goings on. I thank Blogger for the nudge to reconnect and preserve some interesting years of personal history.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Monday, April 11, 2011
Bitch-a-thon
Lookit me--blogging again!
As I was getting ready to leave work tonight, I got a phone call from a co-organizer of this weekend's symposium letting me know a few last-minute details--including a time slot swap that affects a panel discussion some friends put together.
Theoretically, I knew about the swap. Two plenary sessions switched places so that an out-of-town speaker would have time to get to Independence for her afternoon session. This meant that the other panelists were on at 8:00 am Saturday instead of early afternoon. And I just connected the dots tonight and alerted the panelists.
The online listing of sessions hadn't been updated in quite a while, so the panelists were hearing about this for the first time. One is driving in from SLC and said an 8:00 am session would be complicated for him.
Another panelist spoke up on behalf of the session's chair and organizer, saying he was just coming in for the day and the time change may be a significant problem for him (and sounded a little scoldy about this being a "non-trivial adjustment" that may be impossible to accommodate). The session's chair/organizer may possibly have a kidney stone that could also prevent him from participating--another fly in the proverbial ointment. I've tried to find out more about his condition, but no luck so far.
And just prior to typing this, I saw a third panelist asking around for a weekend babysitter so she'd be able to attend and present her part of the panel. This panel was accepted to the conference in January--plenty of time to plan child care in advance, no?
So, if two or three of the four panelists might not be able to make their session at the new time--or AT ALL--how much energy do I put into trying to find a workable solution?
Despite all the practice I get having to adjust to circumstances beyond my control, seeing my careful planning come unraveled, or not having helpful information soon enough to implement a Plan B, I have not perfected a zen attitude in the face of forced, sub-optimal change. Especially when 1) it's clear at least one of the above people is passive/aggressively irritated with me, 2) the eleventh hour is upon us all and the options are limited, and 3) I did completely miss the impact of the time slot swap on this panel.
How did I miss this detail, fastidious planner that I am? Probably something to do with the happenings of the past five weeks:
--Sunstone West in the Bay Area and our long detour home through Las Vegas.
--My mom's surgery two days later and her post-surgery complications (including a trip to the ER this morning to address her perilously low heart rate & blood pressure).
--My two bouts of iPhone problems.
--The still-unresolved issues with the Sheraton SLC and lining up an alternate venue for the August Symposium.
--A missionary homecoming/Stevens family event.
--A Sunstone panel discussion at the U of U last Thursday, complete with a fire alarm in the building and a spring snowstorm that tanked attendance (and one panelist who was in a car accident on his way to the event and never arrived).
--A phone call from a dear friend who's in the grip of some fierce depression and family crises which make me really worried for her physical and emotional health.
--Tidying up prior to our first house showing in four weeks. (Still no offer from the Seattle people who liked it enough to tour it twice).
--Trying to get the new house painted, carpeted, cleaned, fenced, and ready for habitation (on the few weekends we aren't traveling or Mike isn't teaching his leadership seminar).
So yeah, in the midst of ALL THAT, I missed a detail. One that has a fairly large impact on others, will not be easy to fix, and that I feel somewhat responsible for.
I emailed the planning committee tonight about the problem; it's possible we may be able to switch the first and last plenary sessions of the day--IF the folks scheduled in the last session can all be present at 8:00 AM instead.
Perhaps the course of action will be more clear tomorrow. In the meantime, I ought to put myself to bed.
As I was getting ready to leave work tonight, I got a phone call from a co-organizer of this weekend's symposium letting me know a few last-minute details--including a time slot swap that affects a panel discussion some friends put together.
Theoretically, I knew about the swap. Two plenary sessions switched places so that an out-of-town speaker would have time to get to Independence for her afternoon session. This meant that the other panelists were on at 8:00 am Saturday instead of early afternoon. And I just connected the dots tonight and alerted the panelists.
The online listing of sessions hadn't been updated in quite a while, so the panelists were hearing about this for the first time. One is driving in from SLC and said an 8:00 am session would be complicated for him.
Another panelist spoke up on behalf of the session's chair and organizer, saying he was just coming in for the day and the time change may be a significant problem for him (and sounded a little scoldy about this being a "non-trivial adjustment" that may be impossible to accommodate). The session's chair/organizer may possibly have a kidney stone that could also prevent him from participating--another fly in the proverbial ointment. I've tried to find out more about his condition, but no luck so far.
And just prior to typing this, I saw a third panelist asking around for a weekend babysitter so she'd be able to attend and present her part of the panel. This panel was accepted to the conference in January--plenty of time to plan child care in advance, no?
So, if two or three of the four panelists might not be able to make their session at the new time--or AT ALL--how much energy do I put into trying to find a workable solution?
Despite all the practice I get having to adjust to circumstances beyond my control, seeing my careful planning come unraveled, or not having helpful information soon enough to implement a Plan B, I have not perfected a zen attitude in the face of forced, sub-optimal change. Especially when 1) it's clear at least one of the above people is passive/aggressively irritated with me, 2) the eleventh hour is upon us all and the options are limited, and 3) I did completely miss the impact of the time slot swap on this panel.
How did I miss this detail, fastidious planner that I am? Probably something to do with the happenings of the past five weeks:
--Sunstone West in the Bay Area and our long detour home through Las Vegas.
--My mom's surgery two days later and her post-surgery complications (including a trip to the ER this morning to address her perilously low heart rate & blood pressure).
--My two bouts of iPhone problems.
--The still-unresolved issues with the Sheraton SLC and lining up an alternate venue for the August Symposium.
--A missionary homecoming/Stevens family event.
--A Sunstone panel discussion at the U of U last Thursday, complete with a fire alarm in the building and a spring snowstorm that tanked attendance (and one panelist who was in a car accident on his way to the event and never arrived).
--A phone call from a dear friend who's in the grip of some fierce depression and family crises which make me really worried for her physical and emotional health.
--Tidying up prior to our first house showing in four weeks. (Still no offer from the Seattle people who liked it enough to tour it twice).
--Trying to get the new house painted, carpeted, cleaned, fenced, and ready for habitation (on the few weekends we aren't traveling or Mike isn't teaching his leadership seminar).
So yeah, in the midst of ALL THAT, I missed a detail. One that has a fairly large impact on others, will not be easy to fix, and that I feel somewhat responsible for.
I emailed the planning committee tonight about the problem; it's possible we may be able to switch the first and last plenary sessions of the day--IF the folks scheduled in the last session can all be present at 8:00 AM instead.
Perhaps the course of action will be more clear tomorrow. In the meantime, I ought to put myself to bed.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Itsy Bitsy
A high school friend posted two photos on Facebook today: one of a large black widow spider he found in his garage. The second was a photo of said spider squished dead.
The spider carnage reminded me of another spider death I witnessed nearly two decades ago, the violence of which still bothers me.
I visited a former roommate at her home in West Virginia and we spent part of the week staying with her relatives in Maryland and taking the Metro into Washington D.C. One afternoon, I was in the relatives' garden admiring the rows of hearty tomato plants when I spotted an enormous yellow and black striped garden spider poised on its web.
I've been fascinated with spiders ever since I was a kid and knew that garden spiders are harmless. They weave orbs and eat bugs--not much else. So I watched the spider for a while and looked for an insect to help into its web so I could see the spider in action.
I point out the spider to my host--Jen's elderly male relative who had come outside. He leaned over and took a good look at it. He then rooted around the garden soil for two flat stones, walked over to the spider's web, and abruptly clapped the stones together, crushing the garden spider between them.
I was HORRIFIED. I never would have pointed out the spider if I had any idea doing so would result in the spider's violent death.
Trying to control my upset at this turn of events, I stammered "Why did you do that?" The host said they have grand kids over to play in the yard and didn't want black widow spiders around.
I bit my tongue a few times before blurting out that it was NOT a black widow; it was a garden spider, one that would pose little danger to anyone. My host shrugged. Oh, well. One dead spider didn't upset the balance of his universe.
I'm still bothered by that experience all these years later. And yet I'm a hypocrite--I don't tolerate spiders in MY living space. I squish, vacuum, or wash them down the drain without much thought about their demise. (Mike's better about taking spiders outside and occasionally I will, too). But I wouldn't purposely kill a spider that was outdoors doing its own thing.
The spider carnage reminded me of another spider death I witnessed nearly two decades ago, the violence of which still bothers me.
I visited a former roommate at her home in West Virginia and we spent part of the week staying with her relatives in Maryland and taking the Metro into Washington D.C. One afternoon, I was in the relatives' garden admiring the rows of hearty tomato plants when I spotted an enormous yellow and black striped garden spider poised on its web.
I've been fascinated with spiders ever since I was a kid and knew that garden spiders are harmless. They weave orbs and eat bugs--not much else. So I watched the spider for a while and looked for an insect to help into its web so I could see the spider in action.
I point out the spider to my host--Jen's elderly male relative who had come outside. He leaned over and took a good look at it. He then rooted around the garden soil for two flat stones, walked over to the spider's web, and abruptly clapped the stones together, crushing the garden spider between them.
I was HORRIFIED. I never would have pointed out the spider if I had any idea doing so would result in the spider's violent death.
Trying to control my upset at this turn of events, I stammered "Why did you do that?" The host said they have grand kids over to play in the yard and didn't want black widow spiders around.
I bit my tongue a few times before blurting out that it was NOT a black widow; it was a garden spider, one that would pose little danger to anyone. My host shrugged. Oh, well. One dead spider didn't upset the balance of his universe.
I'm still bothered by that experience all these years later. And yet I'm a hypocrite--I don't tolerate spiders in MY living space. I squish, vacuum, or wash them down the drain without much thought about their demise. (Mike's better about taking spiders outside and occasionally I will, too). But I wouldn't purposely kill a spider that was outdoors doing its own thing.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Big Whew...
It's been a whirlwind week.
Last Thursday at this time, we (me, Mike, and passenger Brad) were leaving Reno after eating at a hotel buffet, a welcome stop on a day-long road trip from SLC to the Bay Area for Sunstone West. We got through the Sierras OK and spent the night in Sacramento. Mapquested the route to the nearest Trader Joe's. Bought refreshments for Friday night's Sunstone event and stocked up on some staples for us.
Friday afternoon, we arrived in Cupertino, checked into the hotel, and I met with the banquet/meeting director for one last run through. I realized that my phone wasn't working properly for phone calls and chalked it up to being in a dead zone.
Dined at the Ranch 99 Market's Chinese buffet (a pattern emerges) and headed over to the Cornetts' home for a rousing hymn sing-along. Unfortunately, the street address in the db and on all our printed materials was wrong; we put up a sign directing people down the street to where they really live. Had a cozy time on a rainy night. While there, one panelist called to say that two speakers from Utah couldn't get over the Sierras and wouldn't be joining us for the Saturday night closing session. :(
Up bright and early Saturday to set up for Sunstone West. Mike was his usual AV-wizard self, getting the equipment set up and troubleshooting. Had some nice onsite registration numbers. At lunch--another buffet that partakers could bring back to the meeting room where Mike was showing Mormony Daily Show & Colbert Report clips and the episode of Big Love that mentioned Sunstone in a storyline.
The attendees seemed to enjoy themselves and we had a pretty big crowd at the closing session. A few die hards went out to dinner together afterward.
We kept an eye on weather reports Saturday night and Sunday morning; while we were eating breakfast, I-80 closed at Donner Pass, meaning we had to take an alternate route home. Mike thought Hwy 50 (if it remained open) would be crowded, so we took I-5 south and toodled over to Bakersfield and over to I-15 for the rest of the drive. Of course, this meant another buffet stop at dinnertime. Sixteen or so hours later, we pulled into our own driveway.
Monday was a blur; Mike had to teach and I worked from home and spent time with my mom ad dad before mom's surgery Tuesday morning. The surgery went well--the surgeon was able to place a stent over her aneurysm using the least invasive route. He plugged an artery near the aneurysm so that blood wouldn't leak in behind the stent. We were relieved that the process went smoothly.
Mom was in a lot of pain and stayed in the ICU for two days so she could have extra monitoring. By Tuesday night, the pain had gone down somewhat and by Wednesday it was considerably less. She's still having some chest, leg, and arm pain in addition to incisional pain in her groin. As of this writing, she's cut back on the pain meds and is resting more comfortably. When she's discharged from the hospital, she'll enter a cardiac rehab facility for a few weeks for recuperating and physical therapy/rehab.
Dad's been staying at the hospital guest house and will move in with us while mom's in rehab. Not sure how soon they'll go back to CA afterward. I guess we'll cross that bridge eventually.
I'm pretty tuckered out from the long roadtrips, the symposium, the surgery, the late nights and early mornings spent at the hospital, and trying to set up contractor appointments for stuff we need done at the new house and the old one. Mike's soldiering on through his many responsibilities on less sleep than usual, too. Looking forward to things CALMING DOWN.
Still haven't resolved the contract dispute with the Sheraton; they haven't made any contact for a couple of weeks now. Not since I said that they needed to comply with the terms of the contract as their starting point and that I would happily document the direct and consequential costs to Sunstone for the Sheraton's booking error--including my time spent on finding another venue and having to cancel a regional symposium in Washington DC. I may have dropped enough legal terms to indicate Sunstone is serious about getting the cancellation damages due us. They will keep hearing me roar until that happens.
Last Thursday at this time, we (me, Mike, and passenger Brad) were leaving Reno after eating at a hotel buffet, a welcome stop on a day-long road trip from SLC to the Bay Area for Sunstone West. We got through the Sierras OK and spent the night in Sacramento. Mapquested the route to the nearest Trader Joe's. Bought refreshments for Friday night's Sunstone event and stocked up on some staples for us.
Friday afternoon, we arrived in Cupertino, checked into the hotel, and I met with the banquet/meeting director for one last run through. I realized that my phone wasn't working properly for phone calls and chalked it up to being in a dead zone.
Dined at the Ranch 99 Market's Chinese buffet (a pattern emerges) and headed over to the Cornetts' home for a rousing hymn sing-along. Unfortunately, the street address in the db and on all our printed materials was wrong; we put up a sign directing people down the street to where they really live. Had a cozy time on a rainy night. While there, one panelist called to say that two speakers from Utah couldn't get over the Sierras and wouldn't be joining us for the Saturday night closing session. :(
Up bright and early Saturday to set up for Sunstone West. Mike was his usual AV-wizard self, getting the equipment set up and troubleshooting. Had some nice onsite registration numbers. At lunch--another buffet that partakers could bring back to the meeting room where Mike was showing Mormony Daily Show & Colbert Report clips and the episode of Big Love that mentioned Sunstone in a storyline.
The attendees seemed to enjoy themselves and we had a pretty big crowd at the closing session. A few die hards went out to dinner together afterward.
We kept an eye on weather reports Saturday night and Sunday morning; while we were eating breakfast, I-80 closed at Donner Pass, meaning we had to take an alternate route home. Mike thought Hwy 50 (if it remained open) would be crowded, so we took I-5 south and toodled over to Bakersfield and over to I-15 for the rest of the drive. Of course, this meant another buffet stop at dinnertime. Sixteen or so hours later, we pulled into our own driveway.
Monday was a blur; Mike had to teach and I worked from home and spent time with my mom ad dad before mom's surgery Tuesday morning. The surgery went well--the surgeon was able to place a stent over her aneurysm using the least invasive route. He plugged an artery near the aneurysm so that blood wouldn't leak in behind the stent. We were relieved that the process went smoothly.
Mom was in a lot of pain and stayed in the ICU for two days so she could have extra monitoring. By Tuesday night, the pain had gone down somewhat and by Wednesday it was considerably less. She's still having some chest, leg, and arm pain in addition to incisional pain in her groin. As of this writing, she's cut back on the pain meds and is resting more comfortably. When she's discharged from the hospital, she'll enter a cardiac rehab facility for a few weeks for recuperating and physical therapy/rehab.
Dad's been staying at the hospital guest house and will move in with us while mom's in rehab. Not sure how soon they'll go back to CA afterward. I guess we'll cross that bridge eventually.
I'm pretty tuckered out from the long roadtrips, the symposium, the surgery, the late nights and early mornings spent at the hospital, and trying to set up contractor appointments for stuff we need done at the new house and the old one. Mike's soldiering on through his many responsibilities on less sleep than usual, too. Looking forward to things CALMING DOWN.
Still haven't resolved the contract dispute with the Sheraton; they haven't made any contact for a couple of weeks now. Not since I said that they needed to comply with the terms of the contract as their starting point and that I would happily document the direct and consequential costs to Sunstone for the Sheraton's booking error--including my time spent on finding another venue and having to cancel a regional symposium in Washington DC. I may have dropped enough legal terms to indicate Sunstone is serious about getting the cancellation damages due us. They will keep hearing me roar until that happens.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Breaking the long silence
It's been a bit of a whirlwind since Thanksgiving. Here's a much abbreviated rundown of what's been going on since I last blogged:
-- My parents came to Utah for a visit in October.
-- Mom went to the ER with shortness of breath and elevated bp the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Testing showed an aneurysm under her aortic arch. Logan doesn't have the facilities to handle this, so she was referred to McKay Dee hospital in Ogden.
-- Mom's new cardiologist did an angiogram in early December and got a better sense of what treatment options are. He scheduled an appointment for mid-January to recheck and see what mom had decided to do: have surgery in Utah, or go back to CA, get a second opinion, and line up surgery there.
-- Additional episodes of shortness of breath and high bp kept mom and dad in Utah for the duration. I spent Christmas with them in Logan, camping out in the ancestral home and making Christmas dinner (and other meals) without an oven or microwave.
-- Spent a few days with youngest stepdaughter Jessica during her Christmas visit (during which she turned 18!)
-- Saw True Grit with Mike on NYE.
-- Dealt with computer glitches at the office, with my laptop, new desktop, and my slow, old, lumbering iPhone. Upgraded and finally got all my data onto the new phone.
-- Recreationally perused some real estate close to WSU and scheduled some appointments to see the promising ones IRL.
-- Spent three Saturdays in January touring properties with varying prices and levels of appeal. One 1957 rambler had an entirely pink kitchen--including the built-in OVEN. Others looked good on paper but didn't deliver in person (including one rental that could have been on an episode of Clean House or Hoarders).
-- Wrote an offer late last Saturday night for a spectacular home on Ogden's east bench, slightly closer to WSU, but not walking distance. Now trying to juggle the offer and listing our current home with the demands of Mike's semester and my symposium schedule.
-- Feeling some about the house's size--4100 square feet is an obscene amount of space for two people. But its other features--hot tub, energy efficiency, large yard, fabulous kitchen, and the amazing SOLARIUM (where I picture spending much time during the winters)--made it too good to pass up.
-- We went to church at what would be our new ward if all goes well. The people were warm and friendly--spoke to us, asked if we were new/moving in, made efforts to include us. It was quite a contrast from our current ward, where no one spoke to us until RS/PH meeting for the first THREE SUNDAYS we attended.
-- Mom has an appointment with her cardiologist and the surgeon next week. We should know soon when her surgery will be scheduled. They're hoping to go in via groin to place the stent rather than go in via chest. The aneurysm is close to another artery which will need to be bypassed a couple of days before the stent goes in. Hoping it all goes smoothly!
-- And while all this is going on, I'm planning regional symposiums in Northern California, the Midwest, Washington DC, and getting a head start on SLC 2011. Just had my opening keynote speaker confirm today: Colleen McDannell!
-- Oh, and I'm also going to be assisting Mike with the Monday night class he's taking over for an ill colleague. He should hear soon about his promotion to full professor AND department chair. Nice work, honey!
Yeah, it's been a busy few months. But now you're pretty much all caught up!
-- My parents came to Utah for a visit in October.
-- Mom went to the ER with shortness of breath and elevated bp the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Testing showed an aneurysm under her aortic arch. Logan doesn't have the facilities to handle this, so she was referred to McKay Dee hospital in Ogden.
-- Mom's new cardiologist did an angiogram in early December and got a better sense of what treatment options are. He scheduled an appointment for mid-January to recheck and see what mom had decided to do: have surgery in Utah, or go back to CA, get a second opinion, and line up surgery there.
-- Additional episodes of shortness of breath and high bp kept mom and dad in Utah for the duration. I spent Christmas with them in Logan, camping out in the ancestral home and making Christmas dinner (and other meals) without an oven or microwave.
-- Spent a few days with youngest stepdaughter Jessica during her Christmas visit (during which she turned 18!)
-- Saw True Grit with Mike on NYE.
-- Dealt with computer glitches at the office, with my laptop, new desktop, and my slow, old, lumbering iPhone. Upgraded and finally got all my data onto the new phone.
-- Recreationally perused some real estate close to WSU and scheduled some appointments to see the promising ones IRL.
-- Spent three Saturdays in January touring properties with varying prices and levels of appeal. One 1957 rambler had an entirely pink kitchen--including the built-in OVEN. Others looked good on paper but didn't deliver in person (including one rental that could have been on an episode of Clean House or Hoarders).
-- Wrote an offer late last Saturday night for a spectacular home on Ogden's east bench, slightly closer to WSU, but not walking distance. Now trying to juggle the offer and listing our current home with the demands of Mike's semester and my symposium schedule.
-- Feeling some about the house's size--4100 square feet is an obscene amount of space for two people. But its other features--hot tub, energy efficiency, large yard, fabulous kitchen, and the amazing SOLARIUM (where I picture spending much time during the winters)--made it too good to pass up.
-- We went to church at what would be our new ward if all goes well. The people were warm and friendly--spoke to us, asked if we were new/moving in, made efforts to include us. It was quite a contrast from our current ward, where no one spoke to us until RS/PH meeting for the first THREE SUNDAYS we attended.
-- Mom has an appointment with her cardiologist and the surgeon next week. We should know soon when her surgery will be scheduled. They're hoping to go in via groin to place the stent rather than go in via chest. The aneurysm is close to another artery which will need to be bypassed a couple of days before the stent goes in. Hoping it all goes smoothly!
-- And while all this is going on, I'm planning regional symposiums in Northern California, the Midwest, Washington DC, and getting a head start on SLC 2011. Just had my opening keynote speaker confirm today: Colleen McDannell!
-- Oh, and I'm also going to be assisting Mike with the Monday night class he's taking over for an ill colleague. He should hear soon about his promotion to full professor AND department chair. Nice work, honey!
Yeah, it's been a busy few months. But now you're pretty much all caught up!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Big win!
My dear friend Jana had a giveaway on her blog as part of telling the six-part story of illustrating a Christmas book, What Think Ye of Christmas?
I knew the book was out last year in time for Christmas, but wasn't aware of the back story. So many things came together to make the project happen--it's a pretty amazing read. I commented on the different posts in the series and was eligible for various fabulous prizes.
Today, Jana announced the recipients for the drawing--and I won the art print of one of the book's illustrations and a copy of the book.
Here are the options I have to choose from. Not sure how I'm going to manage to select just one; they're all fabulous!
Jana is giving away one last prize: up to 10 copies of the book, What Think Ye of Christmas? for folks on your Christmas list. Follow the link at the bottom of the post announcing the winners (or here) and leave a comment to be eligible for the prize!
I knew the book was out last year in time for Christmas, but wasn't aware of the back story. So many things came together to make the project happen--it's a pretty amazing read. I commented on the different posts in the series and was eligible for various fabulous prizes.
Today, Jana announced the recipients for the drawing--and I won the art print of one of the book's illustrations and a copy of the book.
Here are the options I have to choose from. Not sure how I'm going to manage to select just one; they're all fabulous!
Jana is giving away one last prize: up to 10 copies of the book, What Think Ye of Christmas? for folks on your Christmas list. Follow the link at the bottom of the post announcing the winners (or here) and leave a comment to be eligible for the prize!
Friday, November 05, 2010
Whoever said "Hell is other people" was right
As part of my outreach duties at work, I've been trying to enlist more volunteer help with Symposium planning.
I had a great bunch of people step up to help with Seattle--many of whom I've never met. And one volunteer set us up with FREE meeting space that a symposium-goer described as a definite step up from the rowing club we'd used for the past few years.
Anyway, I finished the final program today, posted it online and on Facebook, and sent PDFs to all the volunteers/participants.
I was getting ready to leave the office when I checked my work email one last time and saw a new message saying there was a change of venue for the Sunday night event Portland. Had I not seen the previous email about it?
Um, NO.
So I've been scrambling to update the final program (with change of venue in red and magenta so it's hard to miss) and reposting the revised version everywhere imaginable.
Thank heavens I saw the message and got to it quickly. I'll have to announce it repeatedly at the event so we don't have people looking at their preliminary programs and going to the wrong place.
This is the kind of last-minute switcheroo that makes me wary of delegating planning responsibilities to others. Sure, it's more work to do it all myself. But it's also more stressful for me to respond to surprises from delegates. (Delegees?)
Anyway, the last place I want to be at 8:08 pm on a Friday night is the office.
I had a great bunch of people step up to help with Seattle--many of whom I've never met. And one volunteer set us up with FREE meeting space that a symposium-goer described as a definite step up from the rowing club we'd used for the past few years.
Anyway, I finished the final program today, posted it online and on Facebook, and sent PDFs to all the volunteers/participants.
I was getting ready to leave the office when I checked my work email one last time and saw a new message saying there was a change of venue for the Sunday night event Portland. Had I not seen the previous email about it?
Um, NO.
So I've been scrambling to update the final program (with change of venue in red and magenta so it's hard to miss) and reposting the revised version everywhere imaginable.
Thank heavens I saw the message and got to it quickly. I'll have to announce it repeatedly at the event so we don't have people looking at their preliminary programs and going to the wrong place.
This is the kind of last-minute switcheroo that makes me wary of delegating planning responsibilities to others. Sure, it's more work to do it all myself. But it's also more stressful for me to respond to surprises from delegates. (Delegees?)
Anyway, the last place I want to be at 8:08 pm on a Friday night is the office.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Back among the living
Got sick a week ago with a nasty GI bug. Had to cancel a speaking appearance at WSU's Diversity Conference--sad about that. But was too sick to commit to being away from a loo for an hour to be part of the panel discussion.
When Mike took me to urgent care Saturday, I directed him to the one I've been to before. I stared blearily at their pharmacy window when I saw the Altius sticker--our old insurance. I say to Mike, I don't know if they take our new insurance. Turns out they didn't and we ended up trekking to North Ogden to another urgent care.
Didn't see the clinic's front entrance and ended up running through a gauntlet of cheery wellness fair people at the back door. Goodie bag? No. Snack? No. Did we want to hear about their OMG, NO! I'm barely mobile and worried I'm gonna shit myself, so no, I'm not interested in your promotions and balloons and whatnot.
I described my symptoms to the Dr--onset, duration, etc. He prodded, sent someone in to take blood. He couldn't tell if what I had was food borne, bacterial, or viral without the blood work, but he did say that since my left side was more tender, I might want to get checked out for diverticulitis.
AWESOME. My grandma and 70-something year old mom had/have that.
After I was feeling more human, I called urgent care to ask about my second round of test results and if the nice weekend Dr could refer me to a gastroenterologist for follow up. "What kind of Dr is that?" said the young-sounding nitwit on the phone. I wasn't hopeful she'd actually pass on my request, since the Dr I saw was now on a 3-week trip to Europe. And my test results: normal, she said.
I did get a call back later that evening (!) and was informed that I have to be completely over whatever bug I had and wait another 6-8 weeks after that to do any follow up on the diverticulitis. And if I need a colonoscopy, the prep is cleaning out my bowels. That was so fun when nature/Mexican food did it, I can't wait to do it again!
So I have that to look forward to--and someday, possibly, the return of my appetite.
When Mike took me to urgent care Saturday, I directed him to the one I've been to before. I stared blearily at their pharmacy window when I saw the Altius sticker--our old insurance. I say to Mike, I don't know if they take our new insurance. Turns out they didn't and we ended up trekking to North Ogden to another urgent care.
Didn't see the clinic's front entrance and ended up running through a gauntlet of cheery wellness fair people at the back door. Goodie bag? No. Snack? No. Did we want to hear about their OMG, NO! I'm barely mobile and worried I'm gonna shit myself, so no, I'm not interested in your promotions and balloons and whatnot.
I described my symptoms to the Dr--onset, duration, etc. He prodded, sent someone in to take blood. He couldn't tell if what I had was food borne, bacterial, or viral without the blood work, but he did say that since my left side was more tender, I might want to get checked out for diverticulitis.
AWESOME. My grandma and 70-something year old mom had/have that.
After I was feeling more human, I called urgent care to ask about my second round of test results and if the nice weekend Dr could refer me to a gastroenterologist for follow up. "What kind of Dr is that?" said the young-sounding nitwit on the phone. I wasn't hopeful she'd actually pass on my request, since the Dr I saw was now on a 3-week trip to Europe. And my test results: normal, she said.
I did get a call back later that evening (!) and was informed that I have to be completely over whatever bug I had and wait another 6-8 weeks after that to do any follow up on the diverticulitis. And if I need a colonoscopy, the prep is cleaning out my bowels. That was so fun when nature/Mexican food did it, I can't wait to do it again!
So I have that to look forward to--and someday, possibly, the return of my appetite.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Spot On, Pissed Off
A few weeks ago, I noticed what looked kind of like a pee spot on the dresser where we keep bed linens. On Friday I finally investigated more closely and found yes, it was urine, and cleaned it up.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon: Mike comes upstairs to vacuum. I moved a couple of things on the floor so he could maneuver better. That's when I noticed a chess board leaning against the room divider we use to hide the washer/dryer had streaks on it--like it had been peed on from above and the liquid ran down and pooled at the bottom. Sure enough!
I start looking around the upstairs and find that Luther has apparently been relieving himself all.over.the.upstairs. Pee tracks on the washer, with more pee dried in the drawer under the washer and tray that the washer sits in. Pee stains on my filing cabinet, the bottom of one of Mike's bookshelves, and one a handful of books. Pee stains on the faux bricks underneath the cast iron stove/gas log heater. More pee by the stereo and evidence of pee on our collection of records, still trussed in plastic wrap from the move. And loads of dried pee under the AC unit, where the plastic face/filter from the defunct AC unit was resting against the wall. The favorite spot, I guess. I ran out of Nature's Miracle before I was able to treat them all.
Six peed-on spots--that we know of. And Friday, I discovered one of the dogs had SHAT in the living room after my morning workout and before I came downstairs for lunch. Again, probably Luther since I saw him sniffing the area and there's a size differential between his and Libby's, um, output.
WTF?!?
I'm flabbergasted. Not only at how much pee there was to clean up, but also at how long this appears to have been happening.
I was kinda freaking out and voiced my frustration and exasperation to Mike when apparently he doesn't like my tone and said so. I go to wash my hands and he tells me to come back to where he is. Since this sounds more like an order than an invitation, I say I'm going to go wash THE URINE off my hands. This gets me another "I don't like how you're talking to me." Mike repeats this after everything I say until I finally stop talking.
When I come out of the bathroom, he's sitting on the futon. I sit by him and say, "I'm sorry. What was it you wanted to tell me?" He mumbles something. I asked for a repeat. "I don't remember what it was now," he said slightly more audibly. I sat there for a couple of minutes waiting to see if he'd remember or elaborate. Nada. So I walked over to my desk and Googled "why is my dog peeing in the house?"
Even housebroken dogs can start peeing in the house--out of distress or insecurity. One site I read said that bringing a new dog into the home can cause the other dog to start marking territory--just to prove that the turf is REALLY HIS, despite the interloper.
We got Libby in March...so that's about one pee spot a month--IF we've found them all. I'm almost scared to investigate further downstairs.
To be really effective at deterring, you have to catch the dog in the act. Yeah, RIGHT. I was working from home Friday and didn't "catch" Luther shitting in the house; how are we supposed to do that when we have JOBS and can't be at home 24/7 to monitor toileting?
Anyway, Mike went out and bought a couple of big jugs of Nature's Miracle. I thanked him, but he's still not verbally interacting with me. So after liberally sploshing NM over the known trouble spots and blogging about the whole, ever-growing mess, I MAY venture downstairs to see if I've been forgiven or not.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon: Mike comes upstairs to vacuum. I moved a couple of things on the floor so he could maneuver better. That's when I noticed a chess board leaning against the room divider we use to hide the washer/dryer had streaks on it--like it had been peed on from above and the liquid ran down and pooled at the bottom. Sure enough!
I start looking around the upstairs and find that Luther has apparently been relieving himself all.over.the.upstairs. Pee tracks on the washer, with more pee dried in the drawer under the washer and tray that the washer sits in. Pee stains on my filing cabinet, the bottom of one of Mike's bookshelves, and one a handful of books. Pee stains on the faux bricks underneath the cast iron stove/gas log heater. More pee by the stereo and evidence of pee on our collection of records, still trussed in plastic wrap from the move. And loads of dried pee under the AC unit, where the plastic face/filter from the defunct AC unit was resting against the wall. The favorite spot, I guess. I ran out of Nature's Miracle before I was able to treat them all.
Six peed-on spots--that we know of. And Friday, I discovered one of the dogs had SHAT in the living room after my morning workout and before I came downstairs for lunch. Again, probably Luther since I saw him sniffing the area and there's a size differential between his and Libby's, um, output.
WTF?!?
I'm flabbergasted. Not only at how much pee there was to clean up, but also at how long this appears to have been happening.
I was kinda freaking out and voiced my frustration and exasperation to Mike when apparently he doesn't like my tone and said so. I go to wash my hands and he tells me to come back to where he is. Since this sounds more like an order than an invitation, I say I'm going to go wash THE URINE off my hands. This gets me another "I don't like how you're talking to me." Mike repeats this after everything I say until I finally stop talking.
When I come out of the bathroom, he's sitting on the futon. I sit by him and say, "I'm sorry. What was it you wanted to tell me?" He mumbles something. I asked for a repeat. "I don't remember what it was now," he said slightly more audibly. I sat there for a couple of minutes waiting to see if he'd remember or elaborate. Nada. So I walked over to my desk and Googled "why is my dog peeing in the house?"
Even housebroken dogs can start peeing in the house--out of distress or insecurity. One site I read said that bringing a new dog into the home can cause the other dog to start marking territory--just to prove that the turf is REALLY HIS, despite the interloper.
We got Libby in March...so that's about one pee spot a month--IF we've found them all. I'm almost scared to investigate further downstairs.
To be really effective at deterring, you have to catch the dog in the act. Yeah, RIGHT. I was working from home Friday and didn't "catch" Luther shitting in the house; how are we supposed to do that when we have JOBS and can't be at home 24/7 to monitor toileting?
Anyway, Mike went out and bought a couple of big jugs of Nature's Miracle. I thanked him, but he's still not verbally interacting with me. So after liberally sploshing NM over the known trouble spots and blogging about the whole, ever-growing mess, I MAY venture downstairs to see if I've been forgiven or not.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Would it kill you to call first?
A couple of church ladies dropped by our house tonight. Mike had on more clothing than I did, so the door answering fell to him. I hid in the kitchen wondering who on earth would be ringing our doorbell at 8:30 pm on a Sunday.
Mike let them in. As he hustled the barking dogs out the back door, he asked what I wanted to do.
When our surprise guests showed up, I was wearing my bathrobe. Only my bathrobe. Not exactly attire for a social call.
I told Mike I didn't want to talk to them. I hoped they weren't far enough in the house to see me in the kitchen silently wishing them gone.
I overheard them chatting with Mike about the house and joking about "not telling" me about the plate of brownies they'd brought. Finally, they left.
I don't know what makes Mormons so mannerless. If they were dropping by because they were unable to reach me by phone, that's one thing. More often than not, there's no courtesy call preceding the drop-in visit. People just show up and expect that you'll be happy to see them, no matter how ill-timed or unannounced the visit. And don't think bringing brownies gets you off the hook; it's still rude.
When they interrupt my lazy evening of cuddling with mi esposo in my bathrobe and making an apple crisp between new episodes True Blood and Mad Men, don't assume I'll be happy about it.
Mike let them in. As he hustled the barking dogs out the back door, he asked what I wanted to do.
When our surprise guests showed up, I was wearing my bathrobe. Only my bathrobe. Not exactly attire for a social call.
I told Mike I didn't want to talk to them. I hoped they weren't far enough in the house to see me in the kitchen silently wishing them gone.
I overheard them chatting with Mike about the house and joking about "not telling" me about the plate of brownies they'd brought. Finally, they left.
I don't know what makes Mormons so mannerless. If they were dropping by because they were unable to reach me by phone, that's one thing. More often than not, there's no courtesy call preceding the drop-in visit. People just show up and expect that you'll be happy to see them, no matter how ill-timed or unannounced the visit. And don't think bringing brownies gets you off the hook; it's still rude.
When they interrupt my lazy evening of cuddling with mi esposo in my bathrobe and making an apple crisp between new episodes True Blood and Mad Men, don't assume I'll be happy about it.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Well, someone had to do it.
A week off wasn't really enough down time after the August Symposium, so I worked from home* on Monday. (* = in this instance, I lolled around in my PJs all day, caught up on recreational blog reading, and played lots of solitaire).
I arrived at the office Tuesday morning, unpacked my gear, and tackled the most pressing post-symposium tasks. About an hour later, I headed to the loo.
The normally-white toilet seat wasn't. That's weird, I thought. Looked further and saw evidence of a gastric explosion elsewhere. Yetch. I fled to the upstairs restroom to take care of nature's call.
Afterward, I asked the office manager what had happened to the downstairs loo? She said a constituent had come in Monday to make a purchase and abruptly disappeared into the restroom for a long time. There was a fierce stench and when the constituent finally emerged, the person left the office in haste.
The office manager apparently closed the restroom door and told Mike and others in the office Monday that they might want to use the upstairs loo instead--and said she forgot all about it until I asked. Convenient.
I set to work cleaning the toilet seat, the toilet front/base, toilet bowl, and floors. The constituent had clearly done some work, too, as evidenced by the wet mop and used paper towels. But there was more to clean before I would be willing to use this loo myself or make it available to the public.
As I was scrubbing, I recalled a friend's blog post wherein she put an odious service task into perspective by calling it "cleaning for Jesus." You can read her story here: http://mamaheather.blogspot.com/2008/07/service-with-smile.html
That recollection shifted my view of the task: I was scrubbing up remnants of an epic gastric blow for Jesus. It wasn't fun, but it was a task that needed to be done and it appeared I was the only one who would step up and do it.
It was also an exercise in compassion. Who among us hasn't been far away from their own toilet in a moment of gastric distress? It's bad enough when you're home and much worse to have happen in public--much less in the presence of people who know you.
In any case, I'm armed with a mantra that helps me serve others a little more gamely than I would otherwise. Still, I hope "cleaning for Jesus" is NOT a mantra I'll have to use again soon.
I arrived at the office Tuesday morning, unpacked my gear, and tackled the most pressing post-symposium tasks. About an hour later, I headed to the loo.
The normally-white toilet seat wasn't. That's weird, I thought. Looked further and saw evidence of a gastric explosion elsewhere. Yetch. I fled to the upstairs restroom to take care of nature's call.
Afterward, I asked the office manager what had happened to the downstairs loo? She said a constituent had come in Monday to make a purchase and abruptly disappeared into the restroom for a long time. There was a fierce stench and when the constituent finally emerged, the person left the office in haste.
The office manager apparently closed the restroom door and told Mike and others in the office Monday that they might want to use the upstairs loo instead--and said she forgot all about it until I asked. Convenient.
I set to work cleaning the toilet seat, the toilet front/base, toilet bowl, and floors. The constituent had clearly done some work, too, as evidenced by the wet mop and used paper towels. But there was more to clean before I would be willing to use this loo myself or make it available to the public.
As I was scrubbing, I recalled a friend's blog post wherein she put an odious service task into perspective by calling it "cleaning for Jesus." You can read her story here: http://mamaheather.blogspot.com/2008/07/service-with-smile.html
That recollection shifted my view of the task: I was scrubbing up remnants of an epic gastric blow for Jesus. It wasn't fun, but it was a task that needed to be done and it appeared I was the only one who would step up and do it.
It was also an exercise in compassion. Who among us hasn't been far away from their own toilet in a moment of gastric distress? It's bad enough when you're home and much worse to have happen in public--much less in the presence of people who know you.
In any case, I'm armed with a mantra that helps me serve others a little more gamely than I would otherwise. Still, I hope "cleaning for Jesus" is NOT a mantra I'll have to use again soon.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Got the shivers
A couple of weeks ago, I had a vivid dream that a black guy burst into my workplace, came barreling into my office, started pounding on me, and tried to steal my laptop. It was alarming enough that I woke up with the physical reactions one might expect had the scenario actually happened--breathing heavy, fists clenched, prepared to defend myself, and thinking neener neener, my laptop has Lo-Jack.
Flash forward to today: my co-worker had locked the front door a few minutes early. Right afterward, there was some knocking and so she went to open the door.
In walks a black guy with a small gas can, saying his car had stopped in front of our building and could he use the phone to call a friend? My co-worker obliged. He said he worked "down there" and could walk to work from here, but wanted to make a call.
Meanwhile, I'm in my office about coming out of my skin, wondering if my vivid dream is going to play out while I'm awake?
I didn't want to seem too interested in what was happening in the next room, in case my fear was palpable.
Curiously, the guy didn't tell his friend exactly where he was--just gave him the street name, nor did he ask what our address was while he was on the call.
When he hung up, he said he was going to walk down to the 7-11. My co-worker walked him to the front door and locked up after him, noting that he put his gas can in the trunk. (Not aware there's a Chevron two blocks north of the 7-11?)
I was irrationally glad when he left. And then I felt a follow-up jolt of liberal guilt for being all wigged out about a black guy seeking help in a rainstorm.
I've read Gavin de Becker's book, The Gift of Fear, which describes how our instinctual fears can protect us when we pay attention to creeped out feelings, the odd request, the out-of-place stranger, the story that doesn't add up.
Maybe I'm extra-paranoid given the many office break-ins before we had security doors/bars and an alarm installed. Heck, I got spooked last night by a box elder bug flying past my head and later by the printer doing one of its loud, clacking, random fire-ups while I was in the loo. It DID sound suspiciously like someone was trying to get in the building.
Anyway, I was weirded out enough that I'm not sticking around. I'm only staying long enough to post this before going home where I have TWO BARKY DOGS to protect me.
Flash forward to today: my co-worker had locked the front door a few minutes early. Right afterward, there was some knocking and so she went to open the door.
In walks a black guy with a small gas can, saying his car had stopped in front of our building and could he use the phone to call a friend? My co-worker obliged. He said he worked "down there" and could walk to work from here, but wanted to make a call.
Meanwhile, I'm in my office about coming out of my skin, wondering if my vivid dream is going to play out while I'm awake?
I didn't want to seem too interested in what was happening in the next room, in case my fear was palpable.
Curiously, the guy didn't tell his friend exactly where he was--just gave him the street name, nor did he ask what our address was while he was on the call.
When he hung up, he said he was going to walk down to the 7-11. My co-worker walked him to the front door and locked up after him, noting that he put his gas can in the trunk. (Not aware there's a Chevron two blocks north of the 7-11?)
I was irrationally glad when he left. And then I felt a follow-up jolt of liberal guilt for being all wigged out about a black guy seeking help in a rainstorm.
I've read Gavin de Becker's book, The Gift of Fear, which describes how our instinctual fears can protect us when we pay attention to creeped out feelings, the odd request, the out-of-place stranger, the story that doesn't add up.
Maybe I'm extra-paranoid given the many office break-ins before we had security doors/bars and an alarm installed. Heck, I got spooked last night by a box elder bug flying past my head and later by the printer doing one of its loud, clacking, random fire-ups while I was in the loo. It DID sound suspiciously like someone was trying to get in the building.
Anyway, I was weirded out enough that I'm not sticking around. I'm only staying long enough to post this before going home where I have TWO BARKY DOGS to protect me.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
KAPOW.
In a session this morning, our counselor said something that I immediately, painfully recognized as an old, deep core issue of mine--one that shows up daily but that I've avoided naming with such clarity or working on.
After the initial WHOA/OMG moment, I acknowledged yes, that is my issue. It's been with me a long time. I fight a daily battle with it. It's always around, the endless loop of hypercritical thoughts that I try and often fail to push away and that sometimes sends me careening over the edge.
I turned to my husband and partner of 3 1/2 years and said this is my issue. He's seen symptoms of it, but I've never really identified it to or with him. He didn't know it was there or how much of a grip it has on me or that it was undergirding some of the trouble spots in our relationship. On some level, I knew but it had never roiled to the surface with such painful, inescapable clarity.
He was concerned, confused. "You're amazing," he said. "How can this be your issue?"
I'm not sure. I do know that I have to tackle this NOW. No more hiding. It's time to work through it. We talked about ways Mike can help when the issue shows up now that we both know it's there and are aware of some of the shapes it takes.
On the way to the car after the session, I thanked Mike for listening and being supportive. I said that was a HUGE admission/acknowledgment for me. It was scary and painful to name my issue out loud. I felt naked--and not good naked. Exposed.
We drove most of the way to Salt Lake in silence. I was still marveling and in awe of what happened. Seeing the issue clearly--THAT clearly--for the first time and recognizing that it's time to work on it.
I turned to Mike and said "OMG, I still can't believe what happened. That was HUGE! And there's no going back now that it's out in the open. Not that I want to go back; it's simply IMPOSSIBLE to go back now."
Later, I imagined my former therapist and teacher, Lee Gibson, encouraging me to work this issue, to get really CLEAR about it, and saying with a chuckle, "That's your homework, kiddo. This issue can repress you or empower you. Decide which it's going to be and get to work."
Even though someone else did the facilitating this morning, I'm pretty sure Lee had a hand in it somehow. Point taken, Big Guy. I'm on it.
After the initial WHOA/OMG moment, I acknowledged yes, that is my issue. It's been with me a long time. I fight a daily battle with it. It's always around, the endless loop of hypercritical thoughts that I try and often fail to push away and that sometimes sends me careening over the edge.
I turned to my husband and partner of 3 1/2 years and said this is my issue. He's seen symptoms of it, but I've never really identified it to or with him. He didn't know it was there or how much of a grip it has on me or that it was undergirding some of the trouble spots in our relationship. On some level, I knew but it had never roiled to the surface with such painful, inescapable clarity.
He was concerned, confused. "You're amazing," he said. "How can this be your issue?"
I'm not sure. I do know that I have to tackle this NOW. No more hiding. It's time to work through it. We talked about ways Mike can help when the issue shows up now that we both know it's there and are aware of some of the shapes it takes.
On the way to the car after the session, I thanked Mike for listening and being supportive. I said that was a HUGE admission/acknowledgment for me. It was scary and painful to name my issue out loud. I felt naked--and not good naked. Exposed.
We drove most of the way to Salt Lake in silence. I was still marveling and in awe of what happened. Seeing the issue clearly--THAT clearly--for the first time and recognizing that it's time to work on it.
I turned to Mike and said "OMG, I still can't believe what happened. That was HUGE! And there's no going back now that it's out in the open. Not that I want to go back; it's simply IMPOSSIBLE to go back now."
Later, I imagined my former therapist and teacher, Lee Gibson, encouraging me to work this issue, to get really CLEAR about it, and saying with a chuckle, "That's your homework, kiddo. This issue can repress you or empower you. Decide which it's going to be and get to work."
Even though someone else did the facilitating this morning, I'm pretty sure Lee had a hand in it somehow. Point taken, Big Guy. I'm on it.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
2010, Let Me Count The Ways You Suck
Can I get a 2010 do-over?
We're what, barely six weeks in and it's been shitstorm after bloody, freaking shitstorm.
Jan 1-2, marital spat.
Jan 5, test results confirm we're reproductively challenged.
Jan 6, my mom's dear friend, Nancy Wright, lost her battle with cancer.
Jan 7, witnessed a kid urinating on our driveway/neighboring office building.
Jan 9, day-long board meeting. AZ weather and visiting friends were pluses.
Jan 10, I started getting sick.
Jan 11, diagnosis--bronchitis. Nasty cough and 103 degree fever at its worst.
Jan 11-18, illin'. Too sick to travel to Nancy's memorial service in California.
Jan 19, first day back at the office, still dragging.
Jan 20, second kid uses office driveway as urinal. Buddy up with West High security.
Jan 22-24, first good thing--a half-anniversary trip to Las Vegas.
Jan 29, dinner with friends, then a late night trip to Idaho to help w/family crisis.
Jan 31, long night, little sleep, much stress = illness returns. Same weekend, baby nephew gets sick.
Feb 2, Baby Alex admitted to the hospital. I visit dr again and get 2nd Rx.
Feb 3, the only day I make it to the office.
Feb 4, Alex home from the hospital, but his health problems are serious and far from over. :(
Feb 5, appointment with urologist who outlines our options for reproducing. Gives us a Guide to Understanding Fertility Problems comic book. Unfunniest comic book EVER.
Feb 5-7, slept through everything except the Superbowl. Found out we will no longer be teaching Sunday School. Good timing for a break.
Feb 8, worried about PK. He's been listless and not his usual self since we got back from Idaho.
Feb 9, called the vet this morning. Brought PK in. Got him into the carrier without yowl or protest. They made me leave while they drew blood. The vet came in a few minutes later, said his kidneys are failing, and gently started talking about quality of life--which means The End is near. I started crying before he was done. Managed to mop up before the techs came in to show me how to insert the IV.
I cried all the way home. Left a weepy voice mail for Mike. Cried on the phone to my mom. Gave PK anti-nausea meds and tried to feed him the prescription food. He ate some, but threw everything up later.
Now I'm looking over the computer at him curled up on the carpet; he keeps shifting to find a comfortable position. Ignoring work. Wondering how I'll get used to the idea of putting him down and adjusting to his absence.
We're what, barely six weeks in and it's been shitstorm after bloody, freaking shitstorm.
Jan 1-2, marital spat.
Jan 5, test results confirm we're reproductively challenged.
Jan 6, my mom's dear friend, Nancy Wright, lost her battle with cancer.
Jan 7, witnessed a kid urinating on our driveway/neighboring office building.
Jan 9, day-long board meeting. AZ weather and visiting friends were pluses.
Jan 10, I started getting sick.
Jan 11, diagnosis--bronchitis. Nasty cough and 103 degree fever at its worst.
Jan 11-18, illin'. Too sick to travel to Nancy's memorial service in California.
Jan 19, first day back at the office, still dragging.
Jan 20, second kid uses office driveway as urinal. Buddy up with West High security.
Jan 22-24, first good thing--a half-anniversary trip to Las Vegas.
Jan 29, dinner with friends, then a late night trip to Idaho to help w/family crisis.
Jan 31, long night, little sleep, much stress = illness returns. Same weekend, baby nephew gets sick.
Feb 2, Baby Alex admitted to the hospital. I visit dr again and get 2nd Rx.
Feb 3, the only day I make it to the office.
Feb 4, Alex home from the hospital, but his health problems are serious and far from over. :(
Feb 5, appointment with urologist who outlines our options for reproducing. Gives us a Guide to Understanding Fertility Problems comic book. Unfunniest comic book EVER.
Feb 5-7, slept through everything except the Superbowl. Found out we will no longer be teaching Sunday School. Good timing for a break.
Feb 8, worried about PK. He's been listless and not his usual self since we got back from Idaho.
Feb 9, called the vet this morning. Brought PK in. Got him into the carrier without yowl or protest. They made me leave while they drew blood. The vet came in a few minutes later, said his kidneys are failing, and gently started talking about quality of life--which means The End is near. I started crying before he was done. Managed to mop up before the techs came in to show me how to insert the IV.
I cried all the way home. Left a weepy voice mail for Mike. Cried on the phone to my mom. Gave PK anti-nausea meds and tried to feed him the prescription food. He ate some, but threw everything up later.
Now I'm looking over the computer at him curled up on the carpet; he keeps shifting to find a comfortable position. Ignoring work. Wondering how I'll get used to the idea of putting him down and adjusting to his absence.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
The Joy Thing
A FB friend posted a December 1 status update saying he was going to say one thing he was joyful about every day in December.
It sounds like a nice exercise, steering one's thoughts toward joy daily. I could use some of that.
And yet, I'd rather write about things that I feel joy about HERE instead of on FB. Can't quite explain why. Maybe because FB is SO public and I'd rather share things that bring me joy with a more intimate group.
We'll see how far I get; after all, I said I was going to blog every day in November.
What brought me joy today: my mug of Good Earth herbal tea with vanilla soy milk swirling therein. I love pouring a slow stream of soy milk/cream/milk into a cup of tea and watching as it clouds up from the bottom and burbles to the top and eventually permeates the whole cup.
It also ties in with good tea times with girlfriends--and guy friends. The last time I saw Lee Gibson, we did a session and afterward went to tea at The Sussex Teapot. When Lee moved his office to Garden Grove, a tea shop within walking distance helped ease the transition.
It sounds like a nice exercise, steering one's thoughts toward joy daily. I could use some of that.
And yet, I'd rather write about things that I feel joy about HERE instead of on FB. Can't quite explain why. Maybe because FB is SO public and I'd rather share things that bring me joy with a more intimate group.
We'll see how far I get; after all, I said I was going to blog every day in November.
What brought me joy today: my mug of Good Earth herbal tea with vanilla soy milk swirling therein. I love pouring a slow stream of soy milk/cream/milk into a cup of tea and watching as it clouds up from the bottom and burbles to the top and eventually permeates the whole cup.
It also ties in with good tea times with girlfriends--and guy friends. The last time I saw Lee Gibson, we did a session and afterward went to tea at The Sussex Teapot. When Lee moved his office to Garden Grove, a tea shop within walking distance helped ease the transition.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Ida-ho!
We're packed up and on the road. Will dine with in-laws in Idaho.
It's a three-ish hour drive, but I'm sure it will seem longer. Why, you ask? Because the dog is with us and he has gas.
It's a three-ish hour drive, but I'm sure it will seem longer. Why, you ask? Because the dog is with us and he has gas.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Feeling much better, thank you
Yesterday, Mike and I went to a counseling appointment in the morning and texted back and forth during the day.
I skipped work, talked to my mom, went to acupuncture, spent some time with a great friend who fed me, listened to me vent, and offered some helpful observations and a new tool to play with.
When I got back to Ogden, Mike was home and we talked about how we feel about each other and wanting to really work on the trouble spots in our relationship. Hugs and tears all around. There's still a lot of work ahead for both of us and we're committed to doing it.
Will be going to Idaho for Thanksgiving as planned. Just found out my MIL Sue was in the hospital overnight for a heart problem, but she's being discharged this afternoon and will go home where we'll take care of her (instead of the other way around).
Thanks again for your words of support. Rough patches in relationships are tough and it's nice to have supportive friends when the road gets bumpy.
I skipped work, talked to my mom, went to acupuncture, spent some time with a great friend who fed me, listened to me vent, and offered some helpful observations and a new tool to play with.
When I got back to Ogden, Mike was home and we talked about how we feel about each other and wanting to really work on the trouble spots in our relationship. Hugs and tears all around. There's still a lot of work ahead for both of us and we're committed to doing it.
Will be going to Idaho for Thanksgiving as planned. Just found out my MIL Sue was in the hospital overnight for a heart problem, but she's being discharged this afternoon and will go home where we'll take care of her (instead of the other way around).
Thanks again for your words of support. Rough patches in relationships are tough and it's nice to have supportive friends when the road gets bumpy.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Broken
Long argument today. Said lots of regretable things. Feeling like setting things right is all but impossible. Eyes nearly swollen shut from hours of crying. Going to bed alone because Mike packed a bag and left, saying he was tired of getting the shit kicked out of him (his descriptor for any disagreement between us).
I'm sure he feels justified for leaving. He interprets virtually everything I say as an attack--regardless of subject matter. He's tired of living like this. I'm tired of having an emotionally checked out husband; it's like being single again.
And I feel like I have no one to talk to. I suspect that the friends I've confided in are tired of hearing about our marital problems and wonder why I just don't get out already. I didn't get through to either of the two therapists I called tonight for emotional triage. My mom is dealing with news that her best friend's cancer has recurred, so I don't want to wallop her with more bad news.
I'm hoping sleep will bring at least some temporary relief.
I'm sure he feels justified for leaving. He interprets virtually everything I say as an attack--regardless of subject matter. He's tired of living like this. I'm tired of having an emotionally checked out husband; it's like being single again.
And I feel like I have no one to talk to. I suspect that the friends I've confided in are tired of hearing about our marital problems and wonder why I just don't get out already. I didn't get through to either of the two therapists I called tonight for emotional triage. My mom is dealing with news that her best friend's cancer has recurred, so I don't want to wallop her with more bad news.
I'm hoping sleep will bring at least some temporary relief.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Stupid Effing Cancer, Part Deux
My mom called this morning to let me know that one of her oldest/dearest friends just found out that her cancer had metastasized. Nancy been treated for breast cancer last year, got through the treatments fine and we were all hoping she was out of the woods.
What sad, sad news to hear otherwise.
Apparently, the cancer has spread to her spine and has been causing her a lot of pain lately. It's too early to know what her doctors plan to do, treatment-wise.
Nancy and my mom met and became friends more than 30 years ago. Nancy's daughters are the same age as my brother and I and we all attended grammar school at San Gabriel Christian School. As kids, we slumber partied and celebrated birthdays together and ran around each other's houses. We also introduced Nancy and the kids to Mormonism and they joined the church.
When Nancy remarried and moved, the kids saw a little less of each other, but our moms stayed in touch. My mom and Nancy saw each other through some particularly challenging years and experiences. Eventually, Nancy moved back and my mom helped get her a job in the volunteer program in my old school district; when my mom retired, Nancy took over running the program and did a lot of great things.
In the past few months, I've reconnected with Nancy's daughters, Jamie and Kristi via FaceBook. A few years back, I happened to be in California at the same time Jamie was and got to participate in her oldest child's baptism. It was pretty amazing to see how her family has grown and think back to when we were friends that age.
So add another name to the list of people I love who were/are afflicted with cancer. Most recently, that's been Lee Gibson, Chester Papiewski, and now Nancy W.
Cancer sucks. Grieving is hard. I've been crying at my desk for the past hour or so. I still well up thinking about or mentioning Lee Gibson. My heart hurts; it hasn't had a chance to recover between blows/new cancer diagnoses. Stupid fucking cancer.
(And a nod to Shirley Mott, my former YW leader and ward stalwart whose memorial service is tomorrow. She and her husband, Ray, were one of the backbone couples in the old Rosemead ward).
What sad, sad news to hear otherwise.
Apparently, the cancer has spread to her spine and has been causing her a lot of pain lately. It's too early to know what her doctors plan to do, treatment-wise.
Nancy and my mom met and became friends more than 30 years ago. Nancy's daughters are the same age as my brother and I and we all attended grammar school at San Gabriel Christian School. As kids, we slumber partied and celebrated birthdays together and ran around each other's houses. We also introduced Nancy and the kids to Mormonism and they joined the church.
When Nancy remarried and moved, the kids saw a little less of each other, but our moms stayed in touch. My mom and Nancy saw each other through some particularly challenging years and experiences. Eventually, Nancy moved back and my mom helped get her a job in the volunteer program in my old school district; when my mom retired, Nancy took over running the program and did a lot of great things.
In the past few months, I've reconnected with Nancy's daughters, Jamie and Kristi via FaceBook. A few years back, I happened to be in California at the same time Jamie was and got to participate in her oldest child's baptism. It was pretty amazing to see how her family has grown and think back to when we were friends that age.
So add another name to the list of people I love who were/are afflicted with cancer. Most recently, that's been Lee Gibson, Chester Papiewski, and now Nancy W.
Cancer sucks. Grieving is hard. I've been crying at my desk for the past hour or so. I still well up thinking about or mentioning Lee Gibson. My heart hurts; it hasn't had a chance to recover between blows/new cancer diagnoses. Stupid fucking cancer.
(And a nod to Shirley Mott, my former YW leader and ward stalwart whose memorial service is tomorrow. She and her husband, Ray, were one of the backbone couples in the old Rosemead ward).
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