Well, as it turns out, today is my birthday. Also as it turns out, it is probably one of the funnest birthdays I have had. I owe this mostly to the fun people in my life who determined to make it happy for me.
My kid did me up proud with lots of remembrances and a boxed Johhny Cash cd set that made me happy and a little teary eyed. She had seen me lust over it while proclaiming it too expensive to be had. Well, now I has it! Go ME!
My friend Peggy (who reminded me that although I might not be "over the hill" yet I was still high enough to get nose bleeds) sent out the word to everyone we even know remotely and I was flooded with cards, emails a birthday serenade from a group all at once, and I have found myself grinning and on a couple occasions I have absolutely burst out loud laughing.
My sister remembered me with a beautiful card and a smells so good candle (i love candles). Mom is taking me out to dinner tomorrow...
And there is the greetings from my 2 brothers. Man, I have been howdied and happy birthdayed to beat the band.
So, there... I'm having one.
Thanks everyone... and tra la la... happy birthday to me. I'm having a great time.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Monday, August 22, 2005
And then he tied her up...
and then he turned on the buzz saw
and then
and then
along came Jones....
Yeah... see it's like this. I haven't been about much lately and not actually being a heroine, I still feel a bit like the gal in this song, only, I'm still waiting for the arrival of Jones..
you know Jones.
slow walkin Jones
slow talkin Jones
... long, lean, lanky Jones.
I guess what I'm really trying to say is that life has been rife with unfortunate events (although I have never had the misfortune to see "something nasty in the woodshed") and that has kept me from doing much bloggin' while yet providing me with infinite things to blog about and not time to do so. Most of them are now giggles lost in the fog of my sometimes useless brain.
But here's a brief recount while previewing future things you may read about here...
My computer wound up in the shop for a long while. Which is such a common event, I'll never even bother to write about that...
*ended one job
*started another one
*had cataract surgery twice (one for each eye, thank you) and am still blind about half the time...
*Am getting some weird horrendous injections (shots, mind you) weekly in my knee trying to put off the need for knee replacement surgery a bit longer... (Oh, God I am definitely writing about this)...
So you see life is going on. And as soon as Jones arrives - I promise to get crackin' and get some bloggin done. I actually have a Mabel (church secretary) story nagging at me in my warped brain and I'm bound to get it done and I think I may just post it here...
So, lots of fun ahead, kiddies. Stay tuned or you'll miss all the things coming up in the new fall line up...
Yep-e-do! Someone is making noise fromt he other room. Wait! I think it's Jones.
Man! What took you so long?
and then
and then
along came Jones....
Yeah... see it's like this. I haven't been about much lately and not actually being a heroine, I still feel a bit like the gal in this song, only, I'm still waiting for the arrival of Jones..
you know Jones.
slow walkin Jones
slow talkin Jones
... long, lean, lanky Jones.
I guess what I'm really trying to say is that life has been rife with unfortunate events (although I have never had the misfortune to see "something nasty in the woodshed") and that has kept me from doing much bloggin' while yet providing me with infinite things to blog about and not time to do so. Most of them are now giggles lost in the fog of my sometimes useless brain.
But here's a brief recount while previewing future things you may read about here...
My computer wound up in the shop for a long while. Which is such a common event, I'll never even bother to write about that...
*ended one job
*started another one
*had cataract surgery twice (one for each eye, thank you) and am still blind about half the time...
*Am getting some weird horrendous injections (shots, mind you) weekly in my knee trying to put off the need for knee replacement surgery a bit longer... (Oh, God I am definitely writing about this)...
So you see life is going on. And as soon as Jones arrives - I promise to get crackin' and get some bloggin done. I actually have a Mabel (church secretary) story nagging at me in my warped brain and I'm bound to get it done and I think I may just post it here...
So, lots of fun ahead, kiddies. Stay tuned or you'll miss all the things coming up in the new fall line up...
Yep-e-do! Someone is making noise fromt he other room. Wait! I think it's Jones.
Man! What took you so long?
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Mom: A Very Wise Lady
Today I had a doctor's appointment out of town and the brakes on my car are getting rather smooshy. I really didn't want to drive it so I asked my Mom if I could use her car asking her to come along for the ride (because sitting around waiting in a doctor's office is such fun when you're 90 years old) and after my appointment we'd do some shopping. She agreed... so as soon as I got out of work off we went.
Mom took a seat in the waiting room and I was immediately called to the nether parts of the building to go through some tests and see the doctor. This was a recheck after my second surgery on my eyes for cataracts. When I came back out, Mom commented that there were some rather odd people she had observed while waiting. She also said she had never been in a doctor's office where people talked so much. Now this is true. There is a strange bonding that takes place among the patients in this doctor's office because you know that everyone else there has been through, is in the process of going through, or will soon discover they are going to go through this cataract surgery. I have to tell you all about the great fun I had... but that's for another day. The main character in this post is my Mom and I was glad that she hadn't sat there bored during the time I was seeing the doctor.
We headed off to Sears, one of Mom's favorite shopping destinations. Walked through the sales racks and both of us bought blouses on sale and were happy with our luck. It seemed early when we headed back to the car so I asked Mom if she'd like to go for ice cream.
"Well, I don't need any ice cream" she informed me. "I don't need any..." is the phrase which often precedes Mom's response to any statement you make to her about eating food. I told her I'd like to treat her and to thank her for coming with me and the use of her car. I also told her that where I was going was TCBY (The Country's Best Yogurt) a favorite treat place for me. I love their sugar free yogurt topped with sugar free berries. That sounded pretty good to Mom too, so she thought it would be alright since it would be good for her and not spoil her supper.
Once inside TCBY Mom found us a table and I went and ordered our sundaes. I sat down and we began talking about just regular stuff and enjoying our treats. Then Mom said to me "I heard on TV this week that it is not good to eat alone."
"Really!" I replied wondering where this was going to go. "Why is that?"
"People who eat alone die younger than those who eat with someone else or they suffer from despression." Mom said.
Well, Mom turns 91 in a couple weeks so I felt pretty sure that she wasn't expecting to die young, so I asked, "So, are you depressed?"
"I don't know," she said to me, perfectly straight faced, and I sucked in my breath wondering what would come next. "So?" I looked at her for some kind of explanation. "Does that mean you are supposed to go out and buy a pet or something."
"I don't know about all that," she said, rewarding me with one of her smug smiles. "I never eat alone."
"No?"
"No, I never eat alone," she continued. "I eat with all my neighbors and anyone who is walking or driving up or down the street." Mom's kitchen table is in front of a window that gives her a view of everything that is happening in her neighborhood. I always have found it comical that Mom watches out her window and knows everyone's business on her street: she knows when they leave their house, come back, have visitors (and usually who they are), if they were having work done, what they planted in their yards and when they went grocery shopping. All of a sudden I had a flash of insight and realizing that what I had considered nosiness was just a way to deal with solitude.
"How very wise you are," I said to her, completely impressed with how wise she really is.
"That's right," she said, "I never eat alone. There's always someone with me when I eat."
Maybe, because of her great dinner companions, she'll live to be a 100. I hope so.
Click here for a picture of Mom at her window taken by my daughter, Jamelah.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamelah/23626616/
Mom took a seat in the waiting room and I was immediately called to the nether parts of the building to go through some tests and see the doctor. This was a recheck after my second surgery on my eyes for cataracts. When I came back out, Mom commented that there were some rather odd people she had observed while waiting. She also said she had never been in a doctor's office where people talked so much. Now this is true. There is a strange bonding that takes place among the patients in this doctor's office because you know that everyone else there has been through, is in the process of going through, or will soon discover they are going to go through this cataract surgery. I have to tell you all about the great fun I had... but that's for another day. The main character in this post is my Mom and I was glad that she hadn't sat there bored during the time I was seeing the doctor.
We headed off to Sears, one of Mom's favorite shopping destinations. Walked through the sales racks and both of us bought blouses on sale and were happy with our luck. It seemed early when we headed back to the car so I asked Mom if she'd like to go for ice cream.
"Well, I don't need any ice cream" she informed me. "I don't need any..." is the phrase which often precedes Mom's response to any statement you make to her about eating food. I told her I'd like to treat her and to thank her for coming with me and the use of her car. I also told her that where I was going was TCBY (The Country's Best Yogurt) a favorite treat place for me. I love their sugar free yogurt topped with sugar free berries. That sounded pretty good to Mom too, so she thought it would be alright since it would be good for her and not spoil her supper.
Once inside TCBY Mom found us a table and I went and ordered our sundaes. I sat down and we began talking about just regular stuff and enjoying our treats. Then Mom said to me "I heard on TV this week that it is not good to eat alone."
"Really!" I replied wondering where this was going to go. "Why is that?"
"People who eat alone die younger than those who eat with someone else or they suffer from despression." Mom said.
Well, Mom turns 91 in a couple weeks so I felt pretty sure that she wasn't expecting to die young, so I asked, "So, are you depressed?"
"I don't know," she said to me, perfectly straight faced, and I sucked in my breath wondering what would come next. "So?" I looked at her for some kind of explanation. "Does that mean you are supposed to go out and buy a pet or something."
"I don't know about all that," she said, rewarding me with one of her smug smiles. "I never eat alone."
"No?"
"No, I never eat alone," she continued. "I eat with all my neighbors and anyone who is walking or driving up or down the street." Mom's kitchen table is in front of a window that gives her a view of everything that is happening in her neighborhood. I always have found it comical that Mom watches out her window and knows everyone's business on her street: she knows when they leave their house, come back, have visitors (and usually who they are), if they were having work done, what they planted in their yards and when they went grocery shopping. All of a sudden I had a flash of insight and realizing that what I had considered nosiness was just a way to deal with solitude.
"How very wise you are," I said to her, completely impressed with how wise she really is.
"That's right," she said, "I never eat alone. There's always someone with me when I eat."
Maybe, because of her great dinner companions, she'll live to be a 100. I hope so.
Click here for a picture of Mom at her window taken by my daughter, Jamelah.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamelah/23626616/
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Movin' On UP
Going Full Circle
This is it! The last Hoo-Rah! After working for our fine municipality in various capacities for nearly 20 years, I am finally going to walk through the door the last time as an employee, Friday, July 15th.
It makes me feel a little triumphant.
It makes me feel a little overwhelmed.
It makes me feel a little sad.
I came to work here part-time as the secretary to the City Engineer/Director of Public Works. I quickly fell into step and right away felt like I had come home. I loved working for Bill Rieger who retired and who we unfortunately had to say a final farewell to. Bill treated me well, taught me a lot and when I had opportunities to advance beyond the part time job, he was a tremendous encouragement to me.
I began working in the Assessing Department in 1989 and have been here ever since. I started as the Office Manager, became the property appraiser and finally the Assessor. When I retired on 12/31/2003, I returned to the City in an advisory capacity and worked only 15 hours a week. Unfortunately, like many small cities, our revenues are down and the budget had to be cut and my part time position has finally run out of funding.
Each day I have been bagging up the accumulated junk on my desk and walls (I have a tremendous display of postcards mailed to me from friends around the world,(http://anniefay.net/2004/09/for-my-litkicks-pals-and-other-friends.html) a lot of cds, photographs, candles, and just junk. But it is time to put this part of my life in a box and strap it down with sealing tape; opening only when I need a delightful moment to remember.
I have made fabulous friends, worked in an environment that I enjoyed and had a heavy but challenging work load. Yep, I am going to miss all of that.
But then it is also true that in another respect I am Movin’ on Up! I had felt since the budget for this department was settled last year and I learned that they were only going to be able to budget my salary for ½ of this year, that unless something happened I’d be looking for another part time job some place. Entering the job market at age 63 is not something I was looking forward to. With each prayer I had gotten an assurance that God was looking after me and that I did not have a thing to worry about. I even had a sense that I knew exactly which job I would be doing.
I, of course, put it all down to fanciful thinking, took deep breaths and decided to just “wait and see” because I am rather a “show me and I’ll believe it” kind of girl. Besides I knew there were no vacancies in that particular job market. I thought something would turn up with the City and they’d come up with money from somewhere to keep me around. But time began to tick down and it looked like I’d better rewrite my resume.
Then my pastor approached me one evening and asked if I’d be able to help out in the church office. One of their staff members would be leaving for full time work and they needed someone to help them out. The catch. It was to be volunteer work (uh, that means you don’t actually get paid for it) just one afternoon a week. But I said sure, if I could help, Id be glad to. That was about 6 weeks ago… and then about 2 weeks ago my pastor approached me again. The office secretary had accepted full time work and would be leaving soon. Was I interested in applying for her position (this time I would be paid).
I said sure… and went through the application process and the interview. Then Sunday I was told that the Church Board had voted to hire me as the new secretary. And now I have begun working for the church in the mornings and coming to finish up my last minute tasks in the afternoons for the City.
I am still a little in awe of this entire experience. The City’s budget was to take me through July 15th. The position I was to fill was vacated on Friday July 8th. How everything dove-tailed together. Actually, I guess nothing is really strange when God is directing the events.
God did look out for me. I have a different kind of challenge in front of me and I am sure that I am going to feel at home in this new job also. And yes, this is exactly the position I felt I would eventually work in the day I handed in my resignation and officially retired as the City Assessor about 18 months ago.
There is not doubt about it... even for a "show me" kind of girl. God is faithful. Right now… I just feel well loved and taken care of by my Heavenly Father. I am very thankful.
This is it! The last Hoo-Rah! After working for our fine municipality in various capacities for nearly 20 years, I am finally going to walk through the door the last time as an employee, Friday, July 15th.
It makes me feel a little triumphant.
It makes me feel a little overwhelmed.
It makes me feel a little sad.
I came to work here part-time as the secretary to the City Engineer/Director of Public Works. I quickly fell into step and right away felt like I had come home. I loved working for Bill Rieger who retired and who we unfortunately had to say a final farewell to. Bill treated me well, taught me a lot and when I had opportunities to advance beyond the part time job, he was a tremendous encouragement to me.
I began working in the Assessing Department in 1989 and have been here ever since. I started as the Office Manager, became the property appraiser and finally the Assessor. When I retired on 12/31/2003, I returned to the City in an advisory capacity and worked only 15 hours a week. Unfortunately, like many small cities, our revenues are down and the budget had to be cut and my part time position has finally run out of funding.
Each day I have been bagging up the accumulated junk on my desk and walls (I have a tremendous display of postcards mailed to me from friends around the world,(http://anniefay.net/2004/09/for-my-litkicks-pals-and-other-friends.html) a lot of cds, photographs, candles, and just junk. But it is time to put this part of my life in a box and strap it down with sealing tape; opening only when I need a delightful moment to remember.
I have made fabulous friends, worked in an environment that I enjoyed and had a heavy but challenging work load. Yep, I am going to miss all of that.
But then it is also true that in another respect I am Movin’ on Up! I had felt since the budget for this department was settled last year and I learned that they were only going to be able to budget my salary for ½ of this year, that unless something happened I’d be looking for another part time job some place. Entering the job market at age 63 is not something I was looking forward to. With each prayer I had gotten an assurance that God was looking after me and that I did not have a thing to worry about. I even had a sense that I knew exactly which job I would be doing.
I, of course, put it all down to fanciful thinking, took deep breaths and decided to just “wait and see” because I am rather a “show me and I’ll believe it” kind of girl. Besides I knew there were no vacancies in that particular job market. I thought something would turn up with the City and they’d come up with money from somewhere to keep me around. But time began to tick down and it looked like I’d better rewrite my resume.
Then my pastor approached me one evening and asked if I’d be able to help out in the church office. One of their staff members would be leaving for full time work and they needed someone to help them out. The catch. It was to be volunteer work (uh, that means you don’t actually get paid for it) just one afternoon a week. But I said sure, if I could help, Id be glad to. That was about 6 weeks ago… and then about 2 weeks ago my pastor approached me again. The office secretary had accepted full time work and would be leaving soon. Was I interested in applying for her position (this time I would be paid).
I said sure… and went through the application process and the interview. Then Sunday I was told that the Church Board had voted to hire me as the new secretary. And now I have begun working for the church in the mornings and coming to finish up my last minute tasks in the afternoons for the City.
I am still a little in awe of this entire experience. The City’s budget was to take me through July 15th. The position I was to fill was vacated on Friday July 8th. How everything dove-tailed together. Actually, I guess nothing is really strange when God is directing the events.
God did look out for me. I have a different kind of challenge in front of me and I am sure that I am going to feel at home in this new job also. And yes, this is exactly the position I felt I would eventually work in the day I handed in my resignation and officially retired as the City Assessor about 18 months ago.
There is not doubt about it... even for a "show me" kind of girl. God is faithful. Right now… I just feel well loved and taken care of by my Heavenly Father. I am very thankful.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Time to Go?
My Mom has a doctor's appointment and I am to pick her up in a couple hours to take her. She just called to let me know that she thought we should probably leave a little early today due to construction on the interstate which has diverted more local traffic to the back roads which is the route we usually take.
I said "OK". She then proceeded to let me know that one HAD to be at the doctor's office at least 10 minutes before your appointment. (Where did this logic come from? Certainly not my generation. We know that after you sign the appointment sheet and find a seat, you will not be called in for your appointment until you actually find something of interest in the magazine you picked up to look at while you were waiting. My experience is that this takes about 30 to 45 minutes, but whatever). So I said "OK" again.
Then Mom proceeded to explain to me the logic as to why she wanted to leave earlier, to just not take any chances with the traffic which might be a little bit heavier. And I said "OK" again. Then she repeated the bit about not wanting to be late. And I said, "OK, no problem."
"Anyway", she said, "I thought it'd be better if we left at least 10 minutes earlier than we had planned." I said "OK" again.
By now I have agreed to pick her up earlier about 5 times and I'm beginning to think, come on Mom, how many times do I have to let you know this is not a big deal. That's when I realized it was important that I let her ramble as much as she needed. You know, hopefully, some day I'll be 90 years old. I have a feeling that the attitude I assume with my Mom will be the example my daughter will assume when dealing with me in the future. I find my mother a bit humorous at times and am certainly not a bit remiss at poking gentle fun of her when I talk to my siblings or my daughter. The truth is, she is the most delightful, bright and beautiful 90 year old woman I have ever known.
I may choose to take a book today or I may decide to just spend the time with her sitting and waiting in the doctor's office. I definitely choose to enjoy this time and be conisderate of who she is. Someday someone else will have to take my poor old bones to the doctor's office and I hope they will enjoy the time they spend with me. I know this is a privilege. This is what I want my Mom to know about the way I feel when it is necessary to take her places. It is never an imposition. It is never something I wish I didn't have to do.
Time for lunch. I've got an important date this afternoon and I am going to leave just a little bit early for it.
I said "OK". She then proceeded to let me know that one HAD to be at the doctor's office at least 10 minutes before your appointment. (Where did this logic come from? Certainly not my generation. We know that after you sign the appointment sheet and find a seat, you will not be called in for your appointment until you actually find something of interest in the magazine you picked up to look at while you were waiting. My experience is that this takes about 30 to 45 minutes, but whatever). So I said "OK" again.
Then Mom proceeded to explain to me the logic as to why she wanted to leave earlier, to just not take any chances with the traffic which might be a little bit heavier. And I said "OK" again. Then she repeated the bit about not wanting to be late. And I said, "OK, no problem."
"Anyway", she said, "I thought it'd be better if we left at least 10 minutes earlier than we had planned." I said "OK" again.
By now I have agreed to pick her up earlier about 5 times and I'm beginning to think, come on Mom, how many times do I have to let you know this is not a big deal. That's when I realized it was important that I let her ramble as much as she needed. You know, hopefully, some day I'll be 90 years old. I have a feeling that the attitude I assume with my Mom will be the example my daughter will assume when dealing with me in the future. I find my mother a bit humorous at times and am certainly not a bit remiss at poking gentle fun of her when I talk to my siblings or my daughter. The truth is, she is the most delightful, bright and beautiful 90 year old woman I have ever known.
I may choose to take a book today or I may decide to just spend the time with her sitting and waiting in the doctor's office. I definitely choose to enjoy this time and be conisderate of who she is. Someday someone else will have to take my poor old bones to the doctor's office and I hope they will enjoy the time they spend with me. I know this is a privilege. This is what I want my Mom to know about the way I feel when it is necessary to take her places. It is never an imposition. It is never something I wish I didn't have to do.
Time for lunch. I've got an important date this afternoon and I am going to leave just a little bit early for it.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Pimped Out?
I came into work yesterday to find my desk having a look of someone else having been there. Perhaps the biggest clue was that I kept getting "wrong password" message when I tried to log into my computer. When I finally got smart enough to look at the user name I noted that it wasn't automatically ME! What the heck. Since I'm a part timer (I work 15 hrs a week since retiring 18 months ago) I can hardly complain if someone chooses to use my desk some time.
Rick, the New Assessor since I stepped down and who I now come in and assist for those 15 hrs weekly, explained to me that the City Manager, Director of Planning and Community Development, the Superintendent of Public Works and he had spent Friday afternoon working on a project identifying all City property and when and how they were obtained by the City. Rick said the four had not been able to complete the project and would be returning to finish up. I could choose to go home and work later... or I could work from his desk while the 4 of them once again took over my office since all the files they needed were in drawers lined against the opposite wall where my desk sits .
So they arrived, quite apologetically, while I gathered up my stuff to retire to my old assessor's lair to work from what is now Rick's domain. Of course I did not go quietly. I had to razz them about it taking 4 of them to do what I normally do and amid chuckles undaunted by my raised eyebrows I entered the door into the innersanctum. This had been my domain and I thought just walking in and sitting down would be an easy transition. I WAS WRONG!
Rick has a pimped out desk chair. You don't know what a pimped out chair is? Well... in our small community when you see the driver of a car with his seat pushed all the way back and in a semi-reclining position... you say he is "pimping".... Now, I'm trying to figure out how to reach the keyboard when each time I sit down I feel like I am going to fall over backwards. How does anyone work in this position, anyway? I could take a nap in this position. I don't think I could ever work in it. I finally managed by dangling my feet just right (because they don't touch the floor) to manage not to feel like I am about to tip over. I grabbed the keyboard and pulled it over the edge of the desk as far as I could without just putting it in my lap, although I probably should have tried that. I tried to see the file I was working on... gave up and decided to record how much fun I am having.
Finally, I gave up. Slid the pimpchair away from the desk and grabbed one of the visitors chairs and slid it up to the computer. Unfortunately it is not on wheels... and it is the wrong height... and it is not adjustable... and it SUCKS!
This settles it. You can never go back in time. Not ever. Not and feel like you fit there. All of everything around me is in constant flux. Well, most everything... and me... at least I am still the adorable, bright, fun person I have always been.
Rick, the New Assessor since I stepped down and who I now come in and assist for those 15 hrs weekly, explained to me that the City Manager, Director of Planning and Community Development, the Superintendent of Public Works and he had spent Friday afternoon working on a project identifying all City property and when and how they were obtained by the City. Rick said the four had not been able to complete the project and would be returning to finish up. I could choose to go home and work later... or I could work from his desk while the 4 of them once again took over my office since all the files they needed were in drawers lined against the opposite wall where my desk sits .
So they arrived, quite apologetically, while I gathered up my stuff to retire to my old assessor's lair to work from what is now Rick's domain. Of course I did not go quietly. I had to razz them about it taking 4 of them to do what I normally do and amid chuckles undaunted by my raised eyebrows I entered the door into the innersanctum. This had been my domain and I thought just walking in and sitting down would be an easy transition. I WAS WRONG!
Rick has a pimped out desk chair. You don't know what a pimped out chair is? Well... in our small community when you see the driver of a car with his seat pushed all the way back and in a semi-reclining position... you say he is "pimping".... Now, I'm trying to figure out how to reach the keyboard when each time I sit down I feel like I am going to fall over backwards. How does anyone work in this position, anyway? I could take a nap in this position. I don't think I could ever work in it. I finally managed by dangling my feet just right (because they don't touch the floor) to manage not to feel like I am about to tip over. I grabbed the keyboard and pulled it over the edge of the desk as far as I could without just putting it in my lap, although I probably should have tried that. I tried to see the file I was working on... gave up and decided to record how much fun I am having.
Finally, I gave up. Slid the pimpchair away from the desk and grabbed one of the visitors chairs and slid it up to the computer. Unfortunately it is not on wheels... and it is the wrong height... and it is not adjustable... and it SUCKS!
This settles it. You can never go back in time. Not ever. Not and feel like you fit there. All of everything around me is in constant flux. Well, most everything... and me... at least I am still the adorable, bright, fun person I have always been.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Where's My Ride?
So, we had an accident a couple weeks ago with a result of putting one of our vehicles into the body shop for some severe reconstructive rear end surgery. That leaves me and the kid sharing a ride until we get the other car back. It's not like that is a hard thing, because honestly, our schedules mesh fairly well so that there is not much of a conflict.
Then, the guy I work with decided he'd like a week off and asked if I would work full time this week (normally I only work 15 hrs a week) so now I'm pulling 40 hours and trying to stay awake a full day plus having to shuffle around for a ride. My daughter's work day begins at 9am and since her place of employment is only a few steps from my place of work, I simply run out the door here and pick her up. When she finishes up she walks over gets the car, and then comes back here to fetch me home at 5. Simple plan.
Now, a while ago, when she was way less responsible, and things like staring at Brad Pitt in a wet shirt, could get her so side tracked she'd forget to come get me, I used to sit and stew while waiting on the car to come wheeling up the street to pick me up. So, of course, last night, the first night she had to "fetch me" I really expected to have to call her and remind her that she had forgotten her poor old decrepit mother.
I walked down the steps of City Hall at 5. Looked up and down the street at the parking spaces in front of the building, and not to my surprise, none of the spaces were filled with our car. "Just as I thought", so I sat myself down on a bench at the bottom of the steps and prepared to get agitated. Offers for rides started rolling in as one after another of my co-workers left the building and passed me sitting there. I kept confirming that I had a ride, but still couldn't see our car headed up the street, so decided to give the kid a call and kindly remind her that I was sitting stranded in front of City Hall. No answer at home. Then she would be here any second now, because, heck it's just a 5 minute drive. I decided I'd play Tetris on my phone while waiting and began trying to open the menu and get to the game. (yeah, that didn't work)
Totally, frustrated, I was interrupted when a gentleman who had been in my office earlier doing research opened his car door, hailed me and asked "Is that your ride?" and pointed to my daughter now parked directly across the street from me. "Oh, yeah, thanks" I smiled and feeling like a total goof got up, crossed the street and piled into the car.
My daughter is now having some kind of fit. It seems she had been unable to find a parking place on the street when she arrived early, so had parked in the city lot across the street. She said "You looked right at me, then just sat down. Then, I tried to call you on your cell phone and say 'look up' but you were trying to call me and your line was busy." She laughed some more at me, then said, "I finally just gave up and when the parking place emptied I moved over to the street space and YOU STILL DIDN'T SEE ME!" She then looked me like I was completely senile, since evidently I am. "I don't think you would have ever seen me if that guy hadn't told you I was parked here. I thought I was going to have to get out of the car and go get you."
She's probably right. And lets give her credit. She was on time, she didn't forget me, at all. So there's that. Of course, that was the first day of the week. I hope for the rest of the week I'll be able to find her when I finally finish my 8 hours of hard work and stumble exhaustedly down the front steps of City Hall. One deserves to be chauffered after a hard days work in the mines.
Then, the guy I work with decided he'd like a week off and asked if I would work full time this week (normally I only work 15 hrs a week) so now I'm pulling 40 hours and trying to stay awake a full day plus having to shuffle around for a ride. My daughter's work day begins at 9am and since her place of employment is only a few steps from my place of work, I simply run out the door here and pick her up. When she finishes up she walks over gets the car, and then comes back here to fetch me home at 5. Simple plan.
Now, a while ago, when she was way less responsible, and things like staring at Brad Pitt in a wet shirt, could get her so side tracked she'd forget to come get me, I used to sit and stew while waiting on the car to come wheeling up the street to pick me up. So, of course, last night, the first night she had to "fetch me" I really expected to have to call her and remind her that she had forgotten her poor old decrepit mother.
I walked down the steps of City Hall at 5. Looked up and down the street at the parking spaces in front of the building, and not to my surprise, none of the spaces were filled with our car. "Just as I thought", so I sat myself down on a bench at the bottom of the steps and prepared to get agitated. Offers for rides started rolling in as one after another of my co-workers left the building and passed me sitting there. I kept confirming that I had a ride, but still couldn't see our car headed up the street, so decided to give the kid a call and kindly remind her that I was sitting stranded in front of City Hall. No answer at home. Then she would be here any second now, because, heck it's just a 5 minute drive. I decided I'd play Tetris on my phone while waiting and began trying to open the menu and get to the game. (yeah, that didn't work)
Totally, frustrated, I was interrupted when a gentleman who had been in my office earlier doing research opened his car door, hailed me and asked "Is that your ride?" and pointed to my daughter now parked directly across the street from me. "Oh, yeah, thanks" I smiled and feeling like a total goof got up, crossed the street and piled into the car.
My daughter is now having some kind of fit. It seems she had been unable to find a parking place on the street when she arrived early, so had parked in the city lot across the street. She said "You looked right at me, then just sat down. Then, I tried to call you on your cell phone and say 'look up' but you were trying to call me and your line was busy." She laughed some more at me, then said, "I finally just gave up and when the parking place emptied I moved over to the street space and YOU STILL DIDN'T SEE ME!" She then looked me like I was completely senile, since evidently I am. "I don't think you would have ever seen me if that guy hadn't told you I was parked here. I thought I was going to have to get out of the car and go get you."
She's probably right. And lets give her credit. She was on time, she didn't forget me, at all. So there's that. Of course, that was the first day of the week. I hope for the rest of the week I'll be able to find her when I finally finish my 8 hours of hard work and stumble exhaustedly down the front steps of City Hall. One deserves to be chauffered after a hard days work in the mines.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Could You Move His Blood?
It is definitely spring. The neighbors grandkids are noisily playing outside and they always just kind of pour on over into our yard. There is something fascinating about our drive which has always been a big attraction to kids in the neighborhood, especially when there are no cars parked in it. (I say that like I don't know what it is... but I do. We sit on a hill and have a very steep drive. It is great for all types playing, but especially riding bikes down at a breakneck speed out into the road. Even the smaller kids love the speed they get up to on their Big Wheels. Yeah, it's scarey but thankfully no one has gotten killed or maimed yet!)
In the case of the neighbor's grandkids, it is more of an expansion of their small yard into our's, giving them a greater area in which to grow their imaginations. Trust me, these kids do not lack in the imagination department. It makes having them about just a tad bit entertaining. So when I heard their chattery noise I looked out the window to make sure it was them and quickly ascertained that it was. I watched them for a few minutes surprised at how much they had grown over the winter when they hadn't been tromping about our yard. They were completely oblivious to me staring at them from my living room window and went on about racing up and down our drive, spilling back down the hill into their grandparent's yard, plastic, colorful guns extended outwards, happily shooting each other and falling over dead as the action dictated they should. I grinned to myself, let the curtain drop and returned to the unimaginative task I had been doing before I went to spy on them.
I lost myself in reading when the jangling of the phone jarred me back to reality and I hurried to pick up the phone. My daughter was calling about some silly question or other and I was surprised when I checked the time to see that she would be speeding up the drive in just a few more minutes. I decided it was time to de-kid the drive before we wound up with various mangled body parts scattered over our yard and the neighbors.
I stood in the door watching one of the boys, squatting down, busily tearing something to bits and piling it in a nice little pile in the drive; right about the place where the front tire on the car usually comes to a halt. I was a bit curious about the characteristics of said pile, like did it contain any sharp pointy bits, you know? I called out to the kids and mentioned that my daughter would be coming in from work in just couple minutes and asked if they would leave the drive. They just stood there looking at me as if they were trying to figure out if they should shoot me with one of their guns or tie me up to a tree somewhere.
The boy creating the pile, stood and looked over at me, and then said "Somebody broke a pen and left it right here. See it's all torn up" he pointed at the bits and pieces in the drive.
"I see they did," I replied giving no indication that I knew exactly who somebody was.
He looked at me quite seriously, "You see, we're pretending that that's his blood there" not bothering to enlarge upon exactly whose blood his blood was, yet pointing to the stack of bits and pieces on the drive and the puddle of black underneath.
"Hmmmmmmmmmm! Looks like thats working really well" I said, shaking my head up and down in mock seriousness. "So, do you suppose you might be able to move his blood and parts out of the drive. Perhaps if you rush it to the hospital they can reinfuse it back into him."
He gave me one of those "kid glaring at a crazy adult" looks, shrugged his shoulders and continuted to stare at the puddle of blood on the drive. He kicked the pile with his foot, scattering the bits and pieces then trundled off the drive and back down the incline into his grandfather's yard, raising his gun into the air and firing off a volley as he ran after the other kids who were dissappearing around the corner of their grandparent's house. I grinned and walked back into the house just as I heard my daughter rev up the hill into the drive.
Another day safe fom the venomous evil ones that haunt our neighborhood. The only indication remaining behind of the close call we had was a dark puddle of blood in the driveway that still marks the spot where the poor, injured/dead, friend/foe suffered a fateful blast that ended his life/removed him from action... until the next sunny day when no cars will be parked in the drive.
In the case of the neighbor's grandkids, it is more of an expansion of their small yard into our's, giving them a greater area in which to grow their imaginations. Trust me, these kids do not lack in the imagination department. It makes having them about just a tad bit entertaining. So when I heard their chattery noise I looked out the window to make sure it was them and quickly ascertained that it was. I watched them for a few minutes surprised at how much they had grown over the winter when they hadn't been tromping about our yard. They were completely oblivious to me staring at them from my living room window and went on about racing up and down our drive, spilling back down the hill into their grandparent's yard, plastic, colorful guns extended outwards, happily shooting each other and falling over dead as the action dictated they should. I grinned to myself, let the curtain drop and returned to the unimaginative task I had been doing before I went to spy on them.
I lost myself in reading when the jangling of the phone jarred me back to reality and I hurried to pick up the phone. My daughter was calling about some silly question or other and I was surprised when I checked the time to see that she would be speeding up the drive in just a few more minutes. I decided it was time to de-kid the drive before we wound up with various mangled body parts scattered over our yard and the neighbors.
I stood in the door watching one of the boys, squatting down, busily tearing something to bits and piling it in a nice little pile in the drive; right about the place where the front tire on the car usually comes to a halt. I was a bit curious about the characteristics of said pile, like did it contain any sharp pointy bits, you know? I called out to the kids and mentioned that my daughter would be coming in from work in just couple minutes and asked if they would leave the drive. They just stood there looking at me as if they were trying to figure out if they should shoot me with one of their guns or tie me up to a tree somewhere.
The boy creating the pile, stood and looked over at me, and then said "Somebody broke a pen and left it right here. See it's all torn up" he pointed at the bits and pieces in the drive.
"I see they did," I replied giving no indication that I knew exactly who somebody was.
He looked at me quite seriously, "You see, we're pretending that that's his blood there" not bothering to enlarge upon exactly whose blood his blood was, yet pointing to the stack of bits and pieces on the drive and the puddle of black underneath.
"Hmmmmmmmmmm! Looks like thats working really well" I said, shaking my head up and down in mock seriousness. "So, do you suppose you might be able to move his blood and parts out of the drive. Perhaps if you rush it to the hospital they can reinfuse it back into him."
He gave me one of those "kid glaring at a crazy adult" looks, shrugged his shoulders and continuted to stare at the puddle of blood on the drive. He kicked the pile with his foot, scattering the bits and pieces then trundled off the drive and back down the incline into his grandfather's yard, raising his gun into the air and firing off a volley as he ran after the other kids who were dissappearing around the corner of their grandparent's house. I grinned and walked back into the house just as I heard my daughter rev up the hill into the drive.
Another day safe fom the venomous evil ones that haunt our neighborhood. The only indication remaining behind of the close call we had was a dark puddle of blood in the driveway that still marks the spot where the poor, injured/dead, friend/foe suffered a fateful blast that ended his life/removed him from action... until the next sunny day when no cars will be parked in the drive.
Monday, May 09, 2005
OCD? Moi? I Think Not!
My daughter has always raised a skeptical eyebrow in my direction due to my eating habits. I like getting my food carefully organized and then going about eating it in sections. In other words, I have to eat all my carrots, then my potatoes, then my meat, or whatever, always saving what I like best for last. And M&Ms ... if I buy a bag, they have to all be sorted by color and then eaten in some order I dictate to myself at the time, usually having to do with beginning with the M&Ms of the least amount. You know if I have 3 yellow, 5 reds, 6 greens... well that is the order in which they must be eaten.
Now, I'm sure you are finding this really fascinating, as would anybody, or you are raising a skepital eyebrow thinking me to be entirely weird. But since I am now taking a break and to go with my cup of coffee, I just bought a bag of animal crackers out of the candy machine... I find myself sitting here sorting my animals so I'll know which one I have the most of this time (it's hippos), I realized this was a fun little oddity about myself and that maybe I'd just share it with you for the heck of it. I quickly made the decision and started typing right after I popped a headless camel into my mouth.... hmmmm, sweet flavored cardboard. yummmmy!
Oh, the headless camel? Well, I have to eat all the broken pieces before I am allowed to start on the intact ones. Wow! I have quite a menagerie this morning. Since you are dying of curiosity, just so you'll know, the fewest ones are ponies, owls and bunny rabbits. I guess I'll eat the bunnies first. But wait! they're so cute, maybe I should save them for last just to be different. Ahhh, decisions.
Please remember, I said this was a little oddity about myself. I am not OCD... at least not a lot! Besides at my age it's OK to wear purple (which I'm doing today) and its OK to have a few little personality quirks. I like all my quirks and plan to keep them. Oh, Would you like a hippo? I have lots.
Now, I'm sure you are finding this really fascinating, as would anybody, or you are raising a skepital eyebrow thinking me to be entirely weird. But since I am now taking a break and to go with my cup of coffee, I just bought a bag of animal crackers out of the candy machine... I find myself sitting here sorting my animals so I'll know which one I have the most of this time (it's hippos), I realized this was a fun little oddity about myself and that maybe I'd just share it with you for the heck of it. I quickly made the decision and started typing right after I popped a headless camel into my mouth.... hmmmm, sweet flavored cardboard. yummmmy!
Oh, the headless camel? Well, I have to eat all the broken pieces before I am allowed to start on the intact ones. Wow! I have quite a menagerie this morning. Since you are dying of curiosity, just so you'll know, the fewest ones are ponies, owls and bunny rabbits. I guess I'll eat the bunnies first. But wait! they're so cute, maybe I should save them for last just to be different. Ahhh, decisions.
Please remember, I said this was a little oddity about myself. I am not OCD... at least not a lot! Besides at my age it's OK to wear purple (which I'm doing today) and its OK to have a few little personality quirks. I like all my quirks and plan to keep them. Oh, Would you like a hippo? I have lots.
Friday, April 22, 2005
TV That Doesn't Suck? No Way!
The last few years have created a total dearth as far as TV viewing is concerned. I had a couple shows I watched faithfully, ER and Law & Order. Then they decided to cram Law & Order down my throat and every time I switched on the TV I found an episode playing on some channel somewhere. Not knowing the old addage too much of a good thing, they had to add new Law and Orders, and I found myself suffering from severe overkill. I just rather lost interest, although I do admit to actually liking the Criminal Intent version, but it is the main character that captures my interest. He's a bit weird, in a twisted sort of way that fascinates me.
This year I find I am watching ER less and less and with them advertising that it is the last season that Carter will be a regular, well... ho-hum. None of the remaining characters are remotely interesting. I am not watching the show just to see "hot doc" struggle with his weirdo girlfriend and her kid. That story line belongs on Lifetime TV, which I just don't watch.
So the last couple years I have resigned myself to watching The Discovery Channel and telling them they are not documenting what they are saying with real facts, but with a lot of supposed theories, still learning some interesting stuff. Of course there is the Food Network and Iron Chef cookoffs. It's sort of like watching golf, but with a lot of adrenaline and extra stress added. You have these guys cooking up a storm while some guy over in a corner speculates on exactly what the heck it is they are doing. It can be a bit fun at times but on occasion is about as entertaining as having a root canal. That left me with watching VH-1 and all those nifty trips down memory lane with insolent comments thrown in by sarcastic pundits. Please! I'm not really watching this tripe, am I? That leaves me with endless hours of relaxing moments watching HGTV over the ironic comments of my daughter who finds the ongoing episodes of Design on a Dime a genuine waste of time.
But what has happened this year? I began with Desperate Housewives which I found mildly amusing. That lasted about 8 espisodes and I was sick and tired of all the sexual crap and quickly just didn't bother to watch it at all. But LOST, oh come on! I am hopelessly addicted. How did this happen? Then mid-season they began House and I watched this show exactly one time and knew they had better not cancel it. I love this onery doctor. I really do! And then Numb3rs aired on a Friday night and once again I find myself fascinated by a new show. I'm not sure why I like the show. Maybe because it takes a different perspective on fighting crime and, honestly, I'm sick to death of the CSI shows (well I still watch the Vegas one) simply because I have felt the urge to run into the bathroom and hurl. It seems they just want to gross you out at times or present something so total sicko, because evidently this is the kind of tripe people are truly entertained by these days.
Well, that's it! Now I'm turning back into a TV junkie. There is something on TV every night but Saturday and Sunday which I don't want to miss. On Mondays? Oh... I didn't say did I? Well I watch Raymond and 2 1/2 Men, but maybe not for long, since this is Raymond's last year. I haven't found myself such a dedicated fan of TV shows since I was addicted to Homecide, Life on the Streets. Why the heck did they ever take that show off TV, anyway? So, Here's to my 3 new favorites: Lost, House and Numb3rs. Hope they're out there long enough to be more than a cult phenomenon. I hope I'm not putting a hex on them by writing this.
This year I find I am watching ER less and less and with them advertising that it is the last season that Carter will be a regular, well... ho-hum. None of the remaining characters are remotely interesting. I am not watching the show just to see "hot doc" struggle with his weirdo girlfriend and her kid. That story line belongs on Lifetime TV, which I just don't watch.
So the last couple years I have resigned myself to watching The Discovery Channel and telling them they are not documenting what they are saying with real facts, but with a lot of supposed theories, still learning some interesting stuff. Of course there is the Food Network and Iron Chef cookoffs. It's sort of like watching golf, but with a lot of adrenaline and extra stress added. You have these guys cooking up a storm while some guy over in a corner speculates on exactly what the heck it is they are doing. It can be a bit fun at times but on occasion is about as entertaining as having a root canal. That left me with watching VH-1 and all those nifty trips down memory lane with insolent comments thrown in by sarcastic pundits. Please! I'm not really watching this tripe, am I? That leaves me with endless hours of relaxing moments watching HGTV over the ironic comments of my daughter who finds the ongoing episodes of Design on a Dime a genuine waste of time.
But what has happened this year? I began with Desperate Housewives which I found mildly amusing. That lasted about 8 espisodes and I was sick and tired of all the sexual crap and quickly just didn't bother to watch it at all. But LOST, oh come on! I am hopelessly addicted. How did this happen? Then mid-season they began House and I watched this show exactly one time and knew they had better not cancel it. I love this onery doctor. I really do! And then Numb3rs aired on a Friday night and once again I find myself fascinated by a new show. I'm not sure why I like the show. Maybe because it takes a different perspective on fighting crime and, honestly, I'm sick to death of the CSI shows (well I still watch the Vegas one) simply because I have felt the urge to run into the bathroom and hurl. It seems they just want to gross you out at times or present something so total sicko, because evidently this is the kind of tripe people are truly entertained by these days.
Well, that's it! Now I'm turning back into a TV junkie. There is something on TV every night but Saturday and Sunday which I don't want to miss. On Mondays? Oh... I didn't say did I? Well I watch Raymond and 2 1/2 Men, but maybe not for long, since this is Raymond's last year. I haven't found myself such a dedicated fan of TV shows since I was addicted to Homecide, Life on the Streets. Why the heck did they ever take that show off TV, anyway? So, Here's to my 3 new favorites: Lost, House and Numb3rs. Hope they're out there long enough to be more than a cult phenomenon. I hope I'm not putting a hex on them by writing this.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Then it turned green
We were stuck in the this endless cycle of suck. Winter held and continued to freeze us to death. Then all of a sudden one Sunday the sun snuck out and the climate began warming. It liked it so well that it just kept hanging around and before we knew it things began looking like spring. Everthing was tinted green. The blooming trees turned into a riot of blossoms and my heart began a lighter rhythm of beating.
I love spring. I love watching the farm fields begin turning into something. Winter wheat peeks up through the ground and acres of fields appear as perfectly manicured lawns undulating across the hills interrupted by trees which haven't bothered to get dressed yet. Everything is electrically charged with a new sense of coming back to life. The migrating birds are flying overhead and the noisy ones have started singing outside my window in the early morning light.
Now, we were in an endless cycle of sunshine and golden days. The skies were so clear that the only mark across their expanse were whitened jet trails dissappearing into long streaks of cloud puffs. The weatherman began describing our climate as dangerously arid and I wondered if the guy had ever been in an arid climate in his life.
That got fixed this week when an outrageous thunderstorm struck in the early morning, flashing blinding light through my bedroom windows and booming in a tirade against the idea that we live in an arid clime. I rolled over, stared at the time and realized I still had 30 more minutes of serious sleep time and refused to have it stolen from me. I wrapped the covers around my head then realized that in this electrical storm I was hooked up to a device that if lightening strikes the house, I definitely am going to get my sinuses cleaned out... like permanently... and my brain fried during the procedure. I began to wonder if anyone connected to a "sleep machine" had ever been struck by lightening while they were innocently snoozing safely in their beds. I quickly decided this was not a good line of thought at the time and decided I could check into it later. Of course, there's that quote by the infamous they "you have a greater chance of being struck by lightening than winning the lottery" and I realized that since I have never won the lottery, maybe I am meant to be struck by lightening.
Screw it. I'm going back to sleep. Chances are if I do get struck by lightening, I won't live to tell about it but won't my daughter have an interesting story to tell the grandkids... well when they finally get to come into existince. I can hear it now, "You know your grandma enjoyed doing things up big. Even in death, she had to go out being smitten by the awesome hand of God." Wow! Go figure. I hope they put something like that on my crematory urn.
Sizzled by lightening! Nothing left here but ashes.
I love spring. I love watching the farm fields begin turning into something. Winter wheat peeks up through the ground and acres of fields appear as perfectly manicured lawns undulating across the hills interrupted by trees which haven't bothered to get dressed yet. Everything is electrically charged with a new sense of coming back to life. The migrating birds are flying overhead and the noisy ones have started singing outside my window in the early morning light.
Now, we were in an endless cycle of sunshine and golden days. The skies were so clear that the only mark across their expanse were whitened jet trails dissappearing into long streaks of cloud puffs. The weatherman began describing our climate as dangerously arid and I wondered if the guy had ever been in an arid climate in his life.
That got fixed this week when an outrageous thunderstorm struck in the early morning, flashing blinding light through my bedroom windows and booming in a tirade against the idea that we live in an arid clime. I rolled over, stared at the time and realized I still had 30 more minutes of serious sleep time and refused to have it stolen from me. I wrapped the covers around my head then realized that in this electrical storm I was hooked up to a device that if lightening strikes the house, I definitely am going to get my sinuses cleaned out... like permanently... and my brain fried during the procedure. I began to wonder if anyone connected to a "sleep machine" had ever been struck by lightening while they were innocently snoozing safely in their beds. I quickly decided this was not a good line of thought at the time and decided I could check into it later. Of course, there's that quote by the infamous they "you have a greater chance of being struck by lightening than winning the lottery" and I realized that since I have never won the lottery, maybe I am meant to be struck by lightening.
Screw it. I'm going back to sleep. Chances are if I do get struck by lightening, I won't live to tell about it but won't my daughter have an interesting story to tell the grandkids... well when they finally get to come into existince. I can hear it now, "You know your grandma enjoyed doing things up big. Even in death, she had to go out being smitten by the awesome hand of God." Wow! Go figure. I hope they put something like that on my crematory urn.
Sizzled by lightening! Nothing left here but ashes.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Home Stretch Greased With a Little Jelly
NOTE: This post with the following posts concludes my adventure/life experience in being diagnosed with sleep apnea. The posts (if you want to read them in order) are
1. Darth Vader, Man of My Dreams
2. On Becoming Ms. Darth Vader
3. A Journey to the Dark Side
4. Of Umbilical Cords
I find I am actually tolerating The Machine and feeling like I can handle it after all. It's not like I want to be tied to this contraption every night when I go to bed, but the truth is, I can actually tell that I feel better when I do tie myself up to it.
Since I wanted to tolerate the machine more, I was happy when I stumbled over a post on the manufacturer's bulletin board regarding having a sore nose. Those who have been using this equipment for a few years are sharing how a little lubricant called K-Y jelly up the nose alleviates the discomfort. So off to the drugstore I went to buy the jelly stuff but just in case they didn't carry it I took a list of other products others recommended on the site like pure lanolin and bee's wax. I handed my list to the druggest and asked if they carried any of the items. He stated they keep the K-Y jelly and the lanolin in stock, which would I like to try. Since neither was expensive I figured I'd try a tube of both. If one didn't work, surely the other would.
As I turned from the counter with my 2 tubes of lubricant I noted that a line had now formed behind me and most were looking at me curiously with that some kind of look on their faces. I thought nothing of it and figured they were just wishing the gray haired lady would get her junk and get out the way so they could get their junk.
After supper, I decided to look over what i had bought, so I pulled out my bag from the druggist and sat down at the table to read the instuctions while I finished my tea. My daughter looked over at me and said "Is that K-Y Jelly?"
"Why yes!"
"Don't tell me," she added, "you're going to stick that up your nose, right?"
"Yeah, why? It's supposed to keep your nasal passages from getting so dried out at night."
She laughed, reached for the tube and began reading the instuctions to me. Well she tried between fits and giggles. And since mostly the user was instructed to apply "liberally" to the codom... but not too "liberally" I soon found myself joining in her laughter.
Then I explained about the strange looks of those waiting in line behind me at the drugstore. "I'll bet they were wondering just why this gray haired old woman was planning to do with K-Y Jelly."
That's OK. Sometimes one needs to make the world stop and just reconsider things, eh?
Whatever, it worked. I have finally adjusted to having tubes sticking out my head, I roll over at night completely unaware of them. I have even added a couple strips of tape to help keep my mouth shut. My daughter looked at me the other night just before I jumped into bed and nearly suffered a stroke from laughing at the comical image I now am at bedtime. Happily my eyes are closed so I don't laugh myself silly. All I'd doing is heading off to la-la land and a good nights sleep.
And that is a Great thing.
1. Darth Vader, Man of My Dreams
2. On Becoming Ms. Darth Vader
3. A Journey to the Dark Side
4. Of Umbilical Cords
I find I am actually tolerating The Machine and feeling like I can handle it after all. It's not like I want to be tied to this contraption every night when I go to bed, but the truth is, I can actually tell that I feel better when I do tie myself up to it.
Since I wanted to tolerate the machine more, I was happy when I stumbled over a post on the manufacturer's bulletin board regarding having a sore nose. Those who have been using this equipment for a few years are sharing how a little lubricant called K-Y jelly up the nose alleviates the discomfort. So off to the drugstore I went to buy the jelly stuff but just in case they didn't carry it I took a list of other products others recommended on the site like pure lanolin and bee's wax. I handed my list to the druggest and asked if they carried any of the items. He stated they keep the K-Y jelly and the lanolin in stock, which would I like to try. Since neither was expensive I figured I'd try a tube of both. If one didn't work, surely the other would.
As I turned from the counter with my 2 tubes of lubricant I noted that a line had now formed behind me and most were looking at me curiously with that some kind of look on their faces. I thought nothing of it and figured they were just wishing the gray haired lady would get her junk and get out the way so they could get their junk.
After supper, I decided to look over what i had bought, so I pulled out my bag from the druggist and sat down at the table to read the instuctions while I finished my tea. My daughter looked over at me and said "Is that K-Y Jelly?"
"Why yes!"
"Don't tell me," she added, "you're going to stick that up your nose, right?"
"Yeah, why? It's supposed to keep your nasal passages from getting so dried out at night."
She laughed, reached for the tube and began reading the instuctions to me. Well she tried between fits and giggles. And since mostly the user was instructed to apply "liberally" to the codom... but not too "liberally" I soon found myself joining in her laughter.
Then I explained about the strange looks of those waiting in line behind me at the drugstore. "I'll bet they were wondering just why this gray haired old woman was planning to do with K-Y Jelly."
That's OK. Sometimes one needs to make the world stop and just reconsider things, eh?
Whatever, it worked. I have finally adjusted to having tubes sticking out my head, I roll over at night completely unaware of them. I have even added a couple strips of tape to help keep my mouth shut. My daughter looked at me the other night just before I jumped into bed and nearly suffered a stroke from laughing at the comical image I now am at bedtime. Happily my eyes are closed so I don't laugh myself silly. All I'd doing is heading off to la-la land and a good nights sleep.
And that is a Great thing.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Of Umbilical Cords
Umbilical Cords(part 3)
I settle into my routine. I have a doctor’s appointment in April and figure I’ll learn all about the results of the exciting 2 nights of studies at that time. I was surprised when I answered the phone and a very pleasant voice introduced himself and said “Dr Meyer called and has ordered your CPAP (Sleep Machine) and I’d like to set up an appointment and bring it over to you.”
I, of course, want to know who exactly this guy is and what on earth he is talking about. You see I had talked to people and this wasn’t the way it had worked for them. He explained that my doctor, after the results of the 2 sleep studies, had determined that I needed to be treated for sleep apnea and had prescribed CPAP equipment for me to use. Well, I was a bit obstinate and argued with him, for some reason, and gave him a bad time. I certainly wasn’t ready to get hooked up to anything like what I had experienced at the hospital sleep lab. Finally, I caved and set up a time for him to bring the damnable equipment over to the house. I might as well get started with this therapy. After all, it didn’t look like it was going to be a matter of choice.
So a couple afternoons later, over came Jason, or My Connection if you will, with my Sleep Machine. He sat down with me at the dining room table and explained the different components of the equipment and how they worked. What I could do and what I could NOT do. It came with a warm humidifier, so that bridge was crossed. And the mask didn’t look anything like the horrific stuff I’d been hooked up to in the hospital, however, it is hooked into the machine (computerized device programed to MY specific needs) by a 6 ft hose. Nothing like going to be every night with an umbilical cord attached to your nose.
He explained how the mask he had brought worked and how easy it was to use. He said it would take time to adjust and not to expect to use the machine more than a couple hours the first night and then to slowly add more time as I learned to tolerate it. He actually tried to make me think I would come to love having hose stuck up my nose exhausting warn damp air into my nasal cavity all night long. Yeah, he was not right about that. Although I did tolerate it for about 2 hours the first night.
The second night, I was determined to make it work. After all, I had to, didn’t I? So I managed to keep it on most of the night. However, the mask did not allow me to sleep except in one position. This left me twisted and cranky and sore, but I had to admit that I actually felt less tired than I usually did in the morning. So, yeah, I conceded it would probably work, but I also decided there must be something about this whole bizness that I was missing. Well, when all else fails read the manual. I pulled out the books that had come with the equipment and began reading. I redid things, tried again, still couldn’t tolerate the machine. I just was giving up and could find no other way to sleep except on one side or flat out on my back. By now my back is killing me and I’m thinking the treatment is worse than the problem.
By weekend, I have checked into my manufacturer’s website and thankfully found it had a bulletin board. I began reading the posts and it was like joining a support group. All kinds of advice and helpful hints. The first thing I learned was that I needed to try another mask. So, Monday I called My Connection and he came over the next day with a new mask. It was a lot different than the one he had started me out with. It was more like the one in the hospital, in that the device was inserted right up my nose. The tubing went behind my ears and I found I could roll back and forth with no restrictions. I slept for 4 hours that first night with the new mask. I actually climbed out of bed the next day without feeling like I just needed to go someplace quiet for a few weeks and sleep nonstop around the clock.
The second night with the new mask, I began to play around a bit and get inventive. I actually found a way to clip the tubing pony tail style behind my head, so that it was completely out of my way. I found this position actually worked better with the equipment then the prescribed way of attaching it to the head. I slept even better that night, but woke up with a booming headache and my throat and nose so dry I just wanted to drink 3 cans of soda to feel some kind of tingle in my throat again.
But I was… finally… feeling like this whole thing was going to be OK... maybe? What could be more comforting than going to be each night with an umbilical cord attached to a soft humming, light giving machine? What?
I settle into my routine. I have a doctor’s appointment in April and figure I’ll learn all about the results of the exciting 2 nights of studies at that time. I was surprised when I answered the phone and a very pleasant voice introduced himself and said “Dr Meyer called and has ordered your CPAP (Sleep Machine) and I’d like to set up an appointment and bring it over to you.”
I, of course, want to know who exactly this guy is and what on earth he is talking about. You see I had talked to people and this wasn’t the way it had worked for them. He explained that my doctor, after the results of the 2 sleep studies, had determined that I needed to be treated for sleep apnea and had prescribed CPAP equipment for me to use. Well, I was a bit obstinate and argued with him, for some reason, and gave him a bad time. I certainly wasn’t ready to get hooked up to anything like what I had experienced at the hospital sleep lab. Finally, I caved and set up a time for him to bring the damnable equipment over to the house. I might as well get started with this therapy. After all, it didn’t look like it was going to be a matter of choice.
So a couple afternoons later, over came Jason, or My Connection if you will, with my Sleep Machine. He sat down with me at the dining room table and explained the different components of the equipment and how they worked. What I could do and what I could NOT do. It came with a warm humidifier, so that bridge was crossed. And the mask didn’t look anything like the horrific stuff I’d been hooked up to in the hospital, however, it is hooked into the machine (computerized device programed to MY specific needs) by a 6 ft hose. Nothing like going to be every night with an umbilical cord attached to your nose.
He explained how the mask he had brought worked and how easy it was to use. He said it would take time to adjust and not to expect to use the machine more than a couple hours the first night and then to slowly add more time as I learned to tolerate it. He actually tried to make me think I would come to love having hose stuck up my nose exhausting warn damp air into my nasal cavity all night long. Yeah, he was not right about that. Although I did tolerate it for about 2 hours the first night.
The second night, I was determined to make it work. After all, I had to, didn’t I? So I managed to keep it on most of the night. However, the mask did not allow me to sleep except in one position. This left me twisted and cranky and sore, but I had to admit that I actually felt less tired than I usually did in the morning. So, yeah, I conceded it would probably work, but I also decided there must be something about this whole bizness that I was missing. Well, when all else fails read the manual. I pulled out the books that had come with the equipment and began reading. I redid things, tried again, still couldn’t tolerate the machine. I just was giving up and could find no other way to sleep except on one side or flat out on my back. By now my back is killing me and I’m thinking the treatment is worse than the problem.
By weekend, I have checked into my manufacturer’s website and thankfully found it had a bulletin board. I began reading the posts and it was like joining a support group. All kinds of advice and helpful hints. The first thing I learned was that I needed to try another mask. So, Monday I called My Connection and he came over the next day with a new mask. It was a lot different than the one he had started me out with. It was more like the one in the hospital, in that the device was inserted right up my nose. The tubing went behind my ears and I found I could roll back and forth with no restrictions. I slept for 4 hours that first night with the new mask. I actually climbed out of bed the next day without feeling like I just needed to go someplace quiet for a few weeks and sleep nonstop around the clock.
The second night with the new mask, I began to play around a bit and get inventive. I actually found a way to clip the tubing pony tail style behind my head, so that it was completely out of my way. I found this position actually worked better with the equipment then the prescribed way of attaching it to the head. I slept even better that night, but woke up with a booming headache and my throat and nose so dry I just wanted to drink 3 cans of soda to feel some kind of tingle in my throat again.
But I was… finally… feeling like this whole thing was going to be OK... maybe? What could be more comforting than going to be each night with an umbilical cord attached to a soft humming, light giving machine? What?
Visiting the Dark Side
It was such a relief to have the worst of this process behind me. Ha! Little did I know that the worst was yet to come.
Early into the next week the Scheduler from the Sleep Lab called to set me up with my second sleep study. “What? Second study? Why?”
I had passed the first study with flying colors and been diagnosed with sleep apnea. The doctor had ordered the second study to determine proper treatment. Why had I thought a second study would be given only if I didn’t “pass” the first study?
So a week later, I bundled myself off to the hospital for another night’s stay. Heck, it hadn’t been so bad, a few wires, but I had slept. This time I was an old hand at the routine, I only brought one pillow and arrived ready for bed, already in my jammies. What was the point of wearing street clothes? It’s not like I wasn’t going to sleep in my sweats anyway. They had obviously set the thermostat on “arctic cold” and so I was wrapped up in layers with my warmest hoodie to keep me cozy this time. So clever me.
I had the same attendant and we went through the Hook up bizness like the old pros that we were. She asked if I breathed through my mouth when I slept. Well, usually through my nose, but sometimes I did sleep with my mouth open. Who doesn’t, for cryin out loud? Then came the introduction of the “sleep machine” which looked like a clear plastic, full face gas mask with a vacuum cleaner hose stuck out one end of it. She actually planned to stick this device on my head so they could “gauge” how I breathed. Yeah, that mask stayed in place about 15 seconds before I was clawing it off, yelling “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Is that gauged enough?”
”OK” she said. “We’ll have to try another mask.”
Whatever!!! This time she came back with one that looked a little friendlier and only covered my nose. She snapped it in place, warned me that I must keep my mouth closed at all times. She then asked if I would need a “strap” to wrap about my head to assure that I would keep my mouth closed and only breathe through my nose. I told her it was totally unnecessary. Right! Come on. You’d have said the same thing. She made sure she had me properly connected to all her dials and gadgets. Turned off the lights and happily tripped down the hall to monitor the computer hooked up to me and catch a little late night TV. I did my best to find a way to lie down but found myself gasping for air frequently. This required my opening my mouth, naturally. After about 15 minutes of trying to breathe into the mask only, I realized it was a no go. I pulled the mask off my face and little Miss Suzie Sunshine was back through the door in a flash. “Sorry, I feel like I’m being suffocated. I just can’t do this.”
“OK” she said, “well let me call my supervisor and I’ll be right back.”
Yeah, Honey you just do that. I was wondering if perhaps this would be the time I was going to fail the test when back she comes with yet another mask. Cripes. How many of these things do these people have anyway? This one is a small tube device with a fitting that (believe it or not) fits right up my nose. Wheeeeeeee! But it works. I finally am able to tolerate having air forced into my nasal cavity at the force of hurricane gale. Of course, it’s only a few minutes before I’m yelling “Uncle” again. My nose is so dried out I can’t stand it.
Suzie Sunshine now adds a humidifier to my equipment. I finally manage to doze off and sleep for about an hour. I awake in pain. My nose feels like it’s on fire. I know I’ll never be able to tolerate this “treatment”! I’d rather be sleep deprived the rest of my life. Whatever. I’m going to take a break and head for the bathroom. After my pit stop, Suzie is back to get me started over again. I ask if there is something I can have to relieve the dryness in my nose and explain that it is so dry it actually hurts.
This time she didn’t have to go call her supervisor. She said the next step was to try a “warm humidifier” which used to replace the cool humidifier. I am soon hooked back up. There is some problem getting the hoses stuck up my nose to stay in place which she solves with a roll of tape. She simply tapes the non-compliant device down to my face (you can bet by now, I'm realy CUTE). I soon catch the rhythm (I have since learned that the computer in the machine actually matches your breathing rhythm, instead of you trying to match its) and in utter amazement find myself waking up a couple hours later afraid to move. I do not want to dislodge anything, so decide to just tough it out until morning. I turn over and finally doze a bit and then Suzie is there to tell me it’s morning and time to go home.
I pull my coat on and head out the ER exit. Thankfully, there is no snow, my windows are NOT iced over and my doors aren’t frozen shut. I take a deep breath, climb into my car and head home. Nothing had been said about ever having to come back for a 3rd study. The worst was definitely behind me now.
Early into the next week the Scheduler from the Sleep Lab called to set me up with my second sleep study. “What? Second study? Why?”
I had passed the first study with flying colors and been diagnosed with sleep apnea. The doctor had ordered the second study to determine proper treatment. Why had I thought a second study would be given only if I didn’t “pass” the first study?
So a week later, I bundled myself off to the hospital for another night’s stay. Heck, it hadn’t been so bad, a few wires, but I had slept. This time I was an old hand at the routine, I only brought one pillow and arrived ready for bed, already in my jammies. What was the point of wearing street clothes? It’s not like I wasn’t going to sleep in my sweats anyway. They had obviously set the thermostat on “arctic cold” and so I was wrapped up in layers with my warmest hoodie to keep me cozy this time. So clever me.
I had the same attendant and we went through the Hook up bizness like the old pros that we were. She asked if I breathed through my mouth when I slept. Well, usually through my nose, but sometimes I did sleep with my mouth open. Who doesn’t, for cryin out loud? Then came the introduction of the “sleep machine” which looked like a clear plastic, full face gas mask with a vacuum cleaner hose stuck out one end of it. She actually planned to stick this device on my head so they could “gauge” how I breathed. Yeah, that mask stayed in place about 15 seconds before I was clawing it off, yelling “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Is that gauged enough?”
”OK” she said. “We’ll have to try another mask.”
Whatever!!! This time she came back with one that looked a little friendlier and only covered my nose. She snapped it in place, warned me that I must keep my mouth closed at all times. She then asked if I would need a “strap” to wrap about my head to assure that I would keep my mouth closed and only breathe through my nose. I told her it was totally unnecessary. Right! Come on. You’d have said the same thing. She made sure she had me properly connected to all her dials and gadgets. Turned off the lights and happily tripped down the hall to monitor the computer hooked up to me and catch a little late night TV. I did my best to find a way to lie down but found myself gasping for air frequently. This required my opening my mouth, naturally. After about 15 minutes of trying to breathe into the mask only, I realized it was a no go. I pulled the mask off my face and little Miss Suzie Sunshine was back through the door in a flash. “Sorry, I feel like I’m being suffocated. I just can’t do this.”
“OK” she said, “well let me call my supervisor and I’ll be right back.”
Yeah, Honey you just do that. I was wondering if perhaps this would be the time I was going to fail the test when back she comes with yet another mask. Cripes. How many of these things do these people have anyway? This one is a small tube device with a fitting that (believe it or not) fits right up my nose. Wheeeeeeee! But it works. I finally am able to tolerate having air forced into my nasal cavity at the force of hurricane gale. Of course, it’s only a few minutes before I’m yelling “Uncle” again. My nose is so dried out I can’t stand it.
Suzie Sunshine now adds a humidifier to my equipment. I finally manage to doze off and sleep for about an hour. I awake in pain. My nose feels like it’s on fire. I know I’ll never be able to tolerate this “treatment”! I’d rather be sleep deprived the rest of my life. Whatever. I’m going to take a break and head for the bathroom. After my pit stop, Suzie is back to get me started over again. I ask if there is something I can have to relieve the dryness in my nose and explain that it is so dry it actually hurts.
This time she didn’t have to go call her supervisor. She said the next step was to try a “warm humidifier” which used to replace the cool humidifier. I am soon hooked back up. There is some problem getting the hoses stuck up my nose to stay in place which she solves with a roll of tape. She simply tapes the non-compliant device down to my face (you can bet by now, I'm realy CUTE). I soon catch the rhythm (I have since learned that the computer in the machine actually matches your breathing rhythm, instead of you trying to match its) and in utter amazement find myself waking up a couple hours later afraid to move. I do not want to dislodge anything, so decide to just tough it out until morning. I turn over and finally doze a bit and then Suzie is there to tell me it’s morning and time to go home.
I pull my coat on and head out the ER exit. Thankfully, there is no snow, my windows are NOT iced over and my doors aren’t frozen shut. I take a deep breath, climb into my car and head home. Nothing had been said about ever having to come back for a 3rd study. The worst was definitely behind me now.
On Becoming Ms. Vader
A few weeks ago (or was it months) I mentioned my doctor’s suspicion that I had something called “sleep apnea”. Well, what fun! So anyway, I thought it was time to get back here and update you with all the exciting adventures I and Darth Vader have been having since then.
My adventure began with an overnight stay for a “sleep study” at a nearby hospital. They checked me in through the ER and a young woman came and escorted me (they instructed me to bring my own pillows, pajamas, and a change of clothes) and my huge bag of paraphernalia to the Sleep Lab which was located in a windowless tomb of a place just off the rehabilitation wing in the basement. The room was OK… it had a large double bed to delude you into thinking they wanted you to get a good night’s rest. Whatever!
I was told to do my usual night routine (how? there’s no TV in here. There’s a recliner, so I could conceivably fall asleep in the recliner while pretending to watch TV then get up and stumble off to bed, but somehow it just wasn’t the same), so I happily pretend to comply. After washing up, getting into my jammies, and such the young lab worker returned to hook me to about 5,000 wires connected to a computer in the closet next to the bed. I have heart monitors to check if I’m still alive, wires to my face, legs, eyebrows, head, nose, mouth, glued to my hair, on the end of my finger to see if I’m getting enough oxygen, then, in that way too cheerful voice, she says, “OK, I’ll just turn off the lights while you get some sleep.” You bet your life, sweetie pie, I’m all about going to sleep now. I gave myself a good talking to curled up with all those wires protruding out of me, and quietly passed out. This was not something I ever wanted to have to experience twice in my lifetime.
The night ended with only a couple interruptions to take a walk to the bathroom. In the morning, my torturer came to disconnect me, but I rather figured I needed to head for the bathroom first. For the first time I saw my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I nearly passed out laughing at the weird woman staring back at me. Wires everywhere with all different colored endings on them. My hair sticking up every which way it could stick and me looking like something straight out of a science fiction movie. I had everything to match the description except for the metal bowl which should have been screwed to the top of my head with a large antenna sticking out of it.
After my return from the john, the attendant proceeded to disconnect me, letting me know that all the jells and goop would easily wash off in the shower. Well, can’t wait for that. She nicely wished me well and said everything looked fine and she wouldn’t see me again unless they needed a second sleep study done. Fat chance I would let them put me through that again. I had slept quite nicely and was sure, since I had heeded my own advice, I wouldn’t have to come back again. I headed out into the still dark freezing cold, only to find my car doors frozen shut and wishing I’d put this experience off until the weather was at least tolerable. After a few attacks on the doors of the car, I finally got the one on the passenger side to open up to my urgent pleas, and managed to hurl my considerable heft into some type form that got me past the gear shift and bucket seats, so I was able to push the door open on the driver’s side. I got the motor warming, the rear window defroster started, found the ice scraper and began removing the snow and ice off the stupid car. Why on earth had I not waited until spring to have this damn test done, anyway. What was I thinking. I didn’t need to spend a night in a sleep lab. That fact alone showed that I was totally operating with an oxygen starved brain.
Well, at least step one was behind me.
My adventure began with an overnight stay for a “sleep study” at a nearby hospital. They checked me in through the ER and a young woman came and escorted me (they instructed me to bring my own pillows, pajamas, and a change of clothes) and my huge bag of paraphernalia to the Sleep Lab which was located in a windowless tomb of a place just off the rehabilitation wing in the basement. The room was OK… it had a large double bed to delude you into thinking they wanted you to get a good night’s rest. Whatever!
I was told to do my usual night routine (how? there’s no TV in here. There’s a recliner, so I could conceivably fall asleep in the recliner while pretending to watch TV then get up and stumble off to bed, but somehow it just wasn’t the same), so I happily pretend to comply. After washing up, getting into my jammies, and such the young lab worker returned to hook me to about 5,000 wires connected to a computer in the closet next to the bed. I have heart monitors to check if I’m still alive, wires to my face, legs, eyebrows, head, nose, mouth, glued to my hair, on the end of my finger to see if I’m getting enough oxygen, then, in that way too cheerful voice, she says, “OK, I’ll just turn off the lights while you get some sleep.” You bet your life, sweetie pie, I’m all about going to sleep now. I gave myself a good talking to curled up with all those wires protruding out of me, and quietly passed out. This was not something I ever wanted to have to experience twice in my lifetime.
The night ended with only a couple interruptions to take a walk to the bathroom. In the morning, my torturer came to disconnect me, but I rather figured I needed to head for the bathroom first. For the first time I saw my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I nearly passed out laughing at the weird woman staring back at me. Wires everywhere with all different colored endings on them. My hair sticking up every which way it could stick and me looking like something straight out of a science fiction movie. I had everything to match the description except for the metal bowl which should have been screwed to the top of my head with a large antenna sticking out of it.
After my return from the john, the attendant proceeded to disconnect me, letting me know that all the jells and goop would easily wash off in the shower. Well, can’t wait for that. She nicely wished me well and said everything looked fine and she wouldn’t see me again unless they needed a second sleep study done. Fat chance I would let them put me through that again. I had slept quite nicely and was sure, since I had heeded my own advice, I wouldn’t have to come back again. I headed out into the still dark freezing cold, only to find my car doors frozen shut and wishing I’d put this experience off until the weather was at least tolerable. After a few attacks on the doors of the car, I finally got the one on the passenger side to open up to my urgent pleas, and managed to hurl my considerable heft into some type form that got me past the gear shift and bucket seats, so I was able to push the door open on the driver’s side. I got the motor warming, the rear window defroster started, found the ice scraper and began removing the snow and ice off the stupid car. Why on earth had I not waited until spring to have this damn test done, anyway. What was I thinking. I didn’t need to spend a night in a sleep lab. That fact alone showed that I was totally operating with an oxygen starved brain.
Well, at least step one was behind me.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
So I Checked the Weather
for Punxsutawney, PA and learned that they are having a nice sun shiny day. Well, isn't that awesome?
Of course, I really could care less, what the weather is in Penn’s Woods, but since our future the next six weeks is determined by some woodchuck kind of creature named Punxsutawney Phil, today I have a vested interest in their weather.
At first I was all excited about the sunshine because that meant only six weeks of foul cold left this year. But then I revisited the legend and learned that his shadow is exactly what you don't want Phil to see today. And since this whole thing relates as to whether he sees or doesn't see his shadow, I'm wondering about the other factors one might need to consider in this scenario.
For instance, what if Phil was out late last night and awoke this morning with an upset stomach and severe headache. Let's just say he was celebrating this day where he was getting all this media hype and he was feeling rather tightly wound so he had a little something to take the edge off. This morning he wakes up in a rather bad mood and says "Forget those bums, I'm sleeping in today." and refuses to leave his nice warm den.
But suppose, despite his determination to take a sick day from work with the headache and all, his boss calls him a bum, since he only works one a day a year anyway, and says HE HAS TO show up. So he wears his dark sunglasses, pulls the brim of his ballcap down over his swollen eyes so that no one can tell that he actually can't see anything, period. It wouldn't be the first time a body showed up to work yet in all actuality, wasn't there at all.
Or suppose, some smart aleck in the crowd, brings an umbrella... just suppose this jerk likes snow mobiling as some crazy people I know do, and sticks this umbrella up over ole Phil's head, alas NO SHADOW for Phil there.
I'm just saying, suppose something totally unexpected happened and whether or not Phil got to see his shadow had absolutely nothing to do with the weather, then what? Huh? Huh?
Of course worse things could be happening. You could get stuck in some cruel time warp like Bill Murray did and never get beyond February 2nd until you figured out what you were doing wrong in your life. In my case I might have to relive that day adinfinitum. How scary. That was a really cold day.
Whatever... I say Happy Ground Hogs Day, one and all! No matter how it comes out... we will either have milder weather beginning right now, or worse come to worse, we still have only SIX WEEKS OF WINTER LEFT. I can handle that! I say it's time to throw a party. I have wine waiting on the lower shelf of my fridge for just such an occasion as this. Just cause to bust that box open, eh! Partay Time!
Of course, I really could care less, what the weather is in Penn’s Woods, but since our future the next six weeks is determined by some woodchuck kind of creature named Punxsutawney Phil, today I have a vested interest in their weather.
At first I was all excited about the sunshine because that meant only six weeks of foul cold left this year. But then I revisited the legend and learned that his shadow is exactly what you don't want Phil to see today. And since this whole thing relates as to whether he sees or doesn't see his shadow, I'm wondering about the other factors one might need to consider in this scenario.
For instance, what if Phil was out late last night and awoke this morning with an upset stomach and severe headache. Let's just say he was celebrating this day where he was getting all this media hype and he was feeling rather tightly wound so he had a little something to take the edge off. This morning he wakes up in a rather bad mood and says "Forget those bums, I'm sleeping in today." and refuses to leave his nice warm den.
But suppose, despite his determination to take a sick day from work with the headache and all, his boss calls him a bum, since he only works one a day a year anyway, and says HE HAS TO show up. So he wears his dark sunglasses, pulls the brim of his ballcap down over his swollen eyes so that no one can tell that he actually can't see anything, period. It wouldn't be the first time a body showed up to work yet in all actuality, wasn't there at all.
Or suppose, some smart aleck in the crowd, brings an umbrella... just suppose this jerk likes snow mobiling as some crazy people I know do, and sticks this umbrella up over ole Phil's head, alas NO SHADOW for Phil there.
I'm just saying, suppose something totally unexpected happened and whether or not Phil got to see his shadow had absolutely nothing to do with the weather, then what? Huh? Huh?
Of course worse things could be happening. You could get stuck in some cruel time warp like Bill Murray did and never get beyond February 2nd until you figured out what you were doing wrong in your life. In my case I might have to relive that day adinfinitum. How scary. That was a really cold day.
Whatever... I say Happy Ground Hogs Day, one and all! No matter how it comes out... we will either have milder weather beginning right now, or worse come to worse, we still have only SIX WEEKS OF WINTER LEFT. I can handle that! I say it's time to throw a party. I have wine waiting on the lower shelf of my fridge for just such an occasion as this. Just cause to bust that box open, eh! Partay Time!
Monday, January 03, 2005
Darth Vader, Man of My Dreams
So, it was getting pretty bad. I was draggin' my sorry self around half dead all the time. When I got hit by what I thought was a mild case of flu after Christmas and spent 2 days sleeping around the clock, I had to admit there was something going on so I hauled myself off to see the doctor.
I bemoaned my exhausted state, denying that it could in anyway be connected with the fact that I am aging, according to me, quite nicely, thank you very much. "Hhmmmm," says my doctor in his friendliest Shrek voice (my doctor's name is Mike Meyer, although he looks more like Ichabod Crane than Shrek), "sounds like you may not be getting enough oxygen to your brain."
"What?" I'm looking at him askance, with one eyebrow crocked in my best "what you talkin 'bout Willis" look.
"Sounds like you may have sleep apnea," he explained. "When this happens your brain doesn't get enough oxygen while you are sleeping and you have exactly the symptoms you have just described. Sounds like a classic case. In fact, it's quite common. More often in overweight men than women. But as a person ages, their chances of having this problem increases."
Damn, can this doctor stick his foot in his mouth or what? In just 2 sentences he's told me my brain is starving for oxygen, evidently because I'm old and fat (although not male).
"Ummm, well" I reply, just slightly befuddled.
"What we need to do is have you tested. We'll set you up to spend the night in the hospital and they'll be able to tell you before you leave if you are suffering from this condition, and exactly what you need to start feeling better."
I'm still looking at the doctor like he has just taken one eye out of his head, nicely shined it up and stuck it right back in, without skipping a beat. "It's easily treated." (He's still talking... crap, did I just doze off or something, here) "We'll prescribe a sleep device for you so that when you sleep you will not be deprived of oxygen, and in no time you will be feeling a lot better."
Like I can keep up with what he is telling me. I'm still trying to get past the aging/overweight thing. Excuse me, please, but my brain evidently needs some oxygen, LIKE RIGHT NOW!
"You'll find it a little difficult to adjust to sleeping with a device on your face, but you will." the Doctor says, as I find myself thinking of Darth Vader's asthma like wheeze invading my night space and wondering how I'm supposed to go to sleep with that image floating in and out of my oxygen starved brain.
"You'll be amazed at the difference it will make. It's not a cure all, but you won't be exhausted all the time. But first we have to get you tested, OK?" the Doctor says.
"Whatever you think best, Dr. Vader" I mumble under my breath, and he looks at me drawing his eyebrows together and wrinkling up his forehead. "Ha!" he exclaims, "good one". He walks me back to the receptionist's desk with his arm casually draped across my shoulder in a comradely fashion, drops me off asking her to schedule me in at the Sleep Lab, gives me a pat on the back and mumbles as he glides back down the hall "May the force be with you. Ha-Ha!"
I bemoaned my exhausted state, denying that it could in anyway be connected with the fact that I am aging, according to me, quite nicely, thank you very much. "Hhmmmm," says my doctor in his friendliest Shrek voice (my doctor's name is Mike Meyer, although he looks more like Ichabod Crane than Shrek), "sounds like you may not be getting enough oxygen to your brain."
"What?" I'm looking at him askance, with one eyebrow crocked in my best "what you talkin 'bout Willis" look.
"Sounds like you may have sleep apnea," he explained. "When this happens your brain doesn't get enough oxygen while you are sleeping and you have exactly the symptoms you have just described. Sounds like a classic case. In fact, it's quite common. More often in overweight men than women. But as a person ages, their chances of having this problem increases."
Damn, can this doctor stick his foot in his mouth or what? In just 2 sentences he's told me my brain is starving for oxygen, evidently because I'm old and fat (although not male).
"Ummm, well" I reply, just slightly befuddled.
"What we need to do is have you tested. We'll set you up to spend the night in the hospital and they'll be able to tell you before you leave if you are suffering from this condition, and exactly what you need to start feeling better."
I'm still looking at the doctor like he has just taken one eye out of his head, nicely shined it up and stuck it right back in, without skipping a beat. "It's easily treated." (He's still talking... crap, did I just doze off or something, here) "We'll prescribe a sleep device for you so that when you sleep you will not be deprived of oxygen, and in no time you will be feeling a lot better."
Like I can keep up with what he is telling me. I'm still trying to get past the aging/overweight thing. Excuse me, please, but my brain evidently needs some oxygen, LIKE RIGHT NOW!
"You'll find it a little difficult to adjust to sleeping with a device on your face, but you will." the Doctor says, as I find myself thinking of Darth Vader's asthma like wheeze invading my night space and wondering how I'm supposed to go to sleep with that image floating in and out of my oxygen starved brain.
"You'll be amazed at the difference it will make. It's not a cure all, but you won't be exhausted all the time. But first we have to get you tested, OK?" the Doctor says.
"Whatever you think best, Dr. Vader" I mumble under my breath, and he looks at me drawing his eyebrows together and wrinkling up his forehead. "Ha!" he exclaims, "good one". He walks me back to the receptionist's desk with his arm casually draped across my shoulder in a comradely fashion, drops me off asking her to schedule me in at the Sleep Lab, gives me a pat on the back and mumbles as he glides back down the hall "May the force be with you. Ha-Ha!"
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