RIP, Valley Girl Column

For the past five weeks, I've been trying to get an answer from the newspaper folks about what's happening with the Valley Girl blog. They suspended Valley Girl in October when they changed to new blog software and had not responded to my queries about its future.

The online editor finally wrote back two days ago, saying he'd been on vacation. They want fresh blog content more often; could I post columns in two segments? (BTW, the pay's the same).

I think it over and write back. I don't know how well segmented posting would work. It's not as simple as writing a column, chopping it in half, and posting it in pieces.

Borrowing a phrase from A, I asked "Are there other options we haven't explored?" And then I pitched several options I thought would produce more fresh content for them without a ton of extra, unpaid work for me.

The online editor wrote back a few minutes ago. While he was out on vacation, they'd decided to drop the Valley Girl blog. They're also cutting out other bloggers and some of their standard columnists, too. They want to keep the lines of communication open with me, in case I would like to do an occasional freelance project.

At least they know quality writing when they see it. Not exactly comforting, though.

It kills me that I don't have copies of all the columns I posted--just drafts in various stages of editing. I would have made copies, but they didn't tell me they were taking down the old blog until after they did it. Nine months of columns: gone.

I feel ill.

Our Thanksgiving

As fascinating as my GI tract is, I think it's time to write about Something Else. Like Thanksgiving weekend. Here's how it went.

Wednesday

--We started the gluttony with a late night meal at Chili's.

--I assembled the stuffing, koshered the turkey and mapped out cooking times for each dish.

--Dragged myself to bed circa 2 am. Not so smart.

Thursday

--Set alarm. Bwah ha ha ha! Realize that nothing will proceed according to schedule from this point forward.

--An hour later, start things off with some quality nookie.

--Shower, approach kitchen.

--Open oven to adjust racks. Find loaf of bread that was supposed to go in the stuffing. (Has wondered why there was so much egg/broth left over). Break bread into sacrament sized pieces and stir into stuffing.

--Butter & season turkey. Slide extra fat under breast skin so it can self-baste while cooking. Wrestle into oven. In retrospect, a 20 lb. turkey was much too much for four people.

--Bake pumpkin pie, baste turkey, bake stuffing, make cranberry sauce; kids help with rolls & green beans. Mike handles cooking & mashing potatoes.

--Casualty: a sweet potato/green apple/pineapple concoction. I didn't roast the sweet potatoes long enough by themselves, so they didn't cook through before adding the other ingredients.

--Got snappish with Mike in the home stretch. To his credit, he was trying to be helpful and I was less than patient while trying to explain cooking steps to him AND stay on top of the 4 things I was cooking. (My bad).

--After we sit down to eat, I hear cooking sounds. ?! Mike had put my sweet potatoes in the top oven (cold) and put the turkey back in the bottom oven (hot) where it got roasted all over again. This rendered the dark meat unusable for anything except making stock. :(

--After dinner, my friend Minerva stopped by for dessert. After she left, we went to go see Enchanted. Fun movie! Again, collapse into bed in wee morning hours.

To be continued...

Is this, how you say, progress?

Morning visit with the GI specialist. I 'splained my symptoms, their duration and how I'm not sure if my PCP's office really did test for giardia and cryptospiridium like I asked (or which donated substances they performed tests on).

She listened sympathetically and said she'd review the test results. They'll do more testing if needed; a lot depends on the testing lab's capabilities and parasites are not necessarily shed in every stool.

In the meantime, she gave me a 5-day course of antibiotics to take before my next appointment. When I Googled it, I found this drug is used to treat giardia and crypto. If I have either of those things dwelling in my gut, it should make short work of them.

Only it might be a rough 5 days. After the first dose, I became nauseated and gassy. I calmed the nausea somewhat with the crystallized ginger I keep in my desk drawer ( as vending machine repellent). Shortly after that, however, the drug I'm taking to treat the diarrhea GAVE ME diarrhea.

Go figure.

Poetic Justice?

Mike set up KSL radio to listen to the BYU-UofU game. A few minutes ago, the U scored a touchdown and Mike turned into a screaming, hooting, whooping, happy sports fan, the likes of which I've never seen.

And then...BYU got the ball and moved it down the field and got in good position and ended up scoring a touchdown, putting BYU ahead.

And then I was the one whooping and jumping up and down and asking facetiously "Does that mean my team is ahead and going to win?" "How many seconds are on the clock?"

Mike answers all of these questions with "SHUT UUUUUUPPPPPP!"

Current situation: 16 seconds on the clock, BYU 17, Utah 10.

Mike says "You better not be blogging about this! Shut up!"

How could I not blog? It's turned into a VERY interesting game, indeed.

What Women Know

It would be accurate to describe me as an activist.

I recycle and compost and try to be mindful of my impact on the Earth I inhabit. I recently joined a discussion/activist group that connects our religious tradition's theology and scripture with care for the Earth.

I'm active in my local community, protesting the idea that a multimillion dollar border wall will have any meaningful impact on illegal immigration.

I was an activist in college, protesting a daylight attack on a female student and the myopic reaction on campus telling us that women walking alone was the problem.

I took part in my college town's first Take Back The Night march. I wear my commitment to women's issues on my skin as well as in my mind and heart.

I'm gratified and proud to have had a small part in the statement of values posted on this site: What Women Know.

For the past decade, I've been in conversation with the women who contributed their time, energy and life experiences to create this statement. I admire their thoughtfulness, their resilience in adversity, their faith and the wit and wisdom they bring to the discussion.

I've also been blessed to work with, sing with, laugh with, cry with, serve with, visit with, vent with, read with, teach with and rejoice with some utterly amazing women.

If you're female and reading this, you are one of them. I can't begin to thank you enough for being you, for voicing your opinions, for showing me the communion and unity of spirit that can exist in a diverse community. You are blessings in my life--ones that I feel fortunate and grateful to have.

Because I deeply value the women in my life and the myriad ways they enrich, support, love and encourage me, I wanted to reciprocate by sharing this statement of values.

Shout Out to Laughing Catholic

I have a very funny friend named Marilyn who does stand-up in LA and creates irreverent merchandise for the recovering dogmatic in all of us.

Check out her wares here:
http://www.cafepress.com/laffincatholic

We have a (nearly) full set of fridge magnets--missing only the Ether Bunny. They go well with the Davy Crockett magnet ("You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas") and my Anne Taintor magnet ("Guess where I'm tattooed).

More Entrails Tales

8:15 am: My Dr appointment time.

9:00 am: Called back to exam room. Vitals & history checked. Yes, I still have frequent headaches, a stiff neck and the trots.

9:20 am: Dr comes in, reviews my test results. Abdominal MRI was fine. Blood work, fine. Stool cultures, fine. Nothing showed up. Not even giardia? Cryptospiridium? Nope. Everything came back just FINE.

I point out I don't FEEL FINE.

Dr whips out his pass-the-buck pad; do I know any particular gastroenterologists in the Valley? No, I say, sullen and trying not to cry.

But hey, I don't have a tumor or need surgery. I do, however, need a colonoscopy next. And judging from the still primitive (read: barium) approaches to testing here, I'm virtually assured of having a piece of PVC pipe shoved up my bum for a look-see.

He refers me to a woman in the Renaissance Hospital system. Any more questions for him? Not at this time. I trudge to the front so the thick headed receptionist can make the GI appointment (they do that for you here; it's damn inconvenient, like not being able to pump your own gas in Oregon).

I also have to haggle with Dim Sum to get an earlier appointment for my recheck next month. She ASKED and I said my preference was early morning. My appointment card: 10:45 am. Got anything earlier so I don't miss another half day of work?! Oh, I have 8:15 am available that day.

9:40 am: I escape to my car and burst into uncontrollable sobs, disappointed with the lack of answers/solutions and those damnably normal test results.

Collect myself, drive home, curl up next to Mike while he strokes my hair and says he's sorry it's turned out this way. He gets ready and drives my draggin' ass to work.

Weekend Update

Well, I'm obviously not doing the one-blog-post-a-day in November for national bloggers month or whatever it's called. My posting schedule is irregular--as I have time, if something happens or if I'm sufficiently conscious to string words together at the end of the day.

Here's what happened with us this weekend:

* We ordered pizza Friday and Saturday night

* I taught the RS lesson on Women in the church to a crowd of nine women (I did it workshop style and it went well)

* Once the bishop was informed we were NOT moving (that's the other Stevens family), Mike got tapped to be the new Sunday School president

* My premonition that I'd end up teaching gospel doctrine: true

* The above: karma for bitching about previous dull instructor

* Still no RS presidency, instructors or visiting teachers; rumors indicate it will stay this way until January when more changes in the stake are expected

* Mike fixed my printer so it doesn't chop off the tops of tall/capital letters

* Conclusion: we like Lowe's better than Home Depot

* We measured and even if we install a new, smaller shower in our bathroom, there's still not room for the 5 foot double sink we'd love to have

* Still no word form the newspaper re: unsuspending my Valley Girl column :(

* A project I'm involved with is coming to fruition (more about that in a separate forthcoming post)

* Right this minute, Mike is baking me chocolate chip cookies!

*I've killed 3 ants on my desk since I started writing this post. I think it's time to clean.

Data Dump

This morning, I dropped my shit off at the doctor's office. Walked my HazMat bags through a half-filled waiting room and, in case anyone missed seeing the load in the bright orange bag, I had to spell out giardia for the receptionist. Then I had to trot to work.

As I mentioned, it wasn't easy to aim an orifice you can't see. By the turd one, I finally figured out how to get it into the cup without running over.

What is it about stool samples that brings out the Grey Poo Puns? Are they just intrinsically funny? We're all just one poop joke removed from 5th grade, admit it.

Mike sent me an email asking how things went with the early morning drops of doo. My mom said, "I hope they get to the bottom of this."

I made chili for dinner. Wishing I had one of J's toilet-shaped dog dishes to go with today's theme.

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.