You may not know how much fun an intercom can provide. That might be because you don't have one.
For those of you who don't already know, Chris and I currently rent the upstairs of my dad's house from him. (Though we just bought a house and are closing in May! Yippee!)
But in the meantime, we are here. My father, love him to death, is the most deaf human being on the face of the planet. Years of working on construction sites as an electrician will do that to you I suppose. He refuses to wear a hearing aid and speaks at a ridiculously loud volume.
Today I come home and see a little gray box plugged in on the counter in the kitchen. I click the button. "Testing?" My father responds that he got this for when my Uncle Michael moves in. (More on good news, once I move out, my Uncle is moving in. He lives alone in the town over and my cousins and I are all completely thrilled that our single dads will be living together so we can worry about them less...). Anyhow, my dad claims this way he won't have to bother my Uncle if he gets a phone call or needs him. He can just intercom on up. There is a locked door dividing the up and downstairs. For the most part we just leave it opened, but good to know it is there!
So I click it again. "Luuuuuke.....I am your faaaather." I probably said that about 12 times before my dad told me to knock it off. I walk away from the little gray box.
Check some email. Do some stuff for work. But I see it...taunting me... just sitting there, out of the corner of my eye. I creep back over to it. "WEEEEEEEEEE!!!" I squeal in a ridiculously high pitched voice. My dad responds asking if I need something. "No, I'm fine." Back to work. Two minutes pass, max. I wonder what other high pitched annoying sounds I can make. I wonder what it will sound like. I creep over again. "YIIIPPPPPEEEEEEEEEE!!" My dad tells me to knock it off. "Saawwreeee" I lament.
Write a few words. Tap tap tap my pen. Write a few more words. Tap again. I feel a bead of sweat or two form on my forehead. I charge from the table to the beautiful gray box and completely freak out, Tourette's style, making all sorts of ridiculous sounds and noises and words and songs and OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS THING!!!
I wait. Hmmm. No response. I go downstairs. There's my father, wearing the headphones we bought him for Xmas, as he tends to listen to the TV at a ridiculous volume. Looks like they work for drowning out crazy daughters as well. Why do I get the feeling that the little gray box will be removed from my kitchen by tomorrow....
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Feeling Old
Man, I feel old. Not because I think 28 is old. I know it's not actually old. But because I can no longer hang. I mean let's be honest. I could NEVER really hang. But there was a time, once upon a time, that I could go out until all hours of the night, night after night, and sleep until ten the next day and be fine like nothing ever happened. Now I have maybe one good night in me and then I'm done. I think the main problem is that I can no longer sleep late. Not in the sense that I have so much to do that I can't sleep late, but as in my body won't let me. By 8 AM my body is just saying "What the hell, get out of bed you lazy shite!" So after karaoke on Wednesday I was a little reluctant to head out again with Brennan and Joe to Hoboken on Thursday. Chris had work all this week so he couldn't come out and it's a bit of a haul to Hoboken, but I went anyway. As always I'm GLAD I went. I had a kickass time. But by 2 AM the thought of driving home 45 minutes almost made me want to curl up on the sidewalk and just take a little nap until the morning. I could have stayed at my brother's place as he lives in Hoboken, but he had to work today and I figured ringing him up at 2 AM would have been a tad rude.
So here I am, it's 10 AM and I magically slept until 9 today. But two days out past 2 AM in a row and I'm seriously shot to hell. Chris and I are supposed to go hang with our friend, Dave Moretti tonight. Chris and Dave have been friends since high school and were in their sketch comedy group together. Dave is a pretty well known actor in the gay community and stars in a show called "The Lair" on the Here! network- a gay focused television network. That's him in the title pic on the right...without the fangs...it's a vampire show but he plays the detective! Anyway, he lives in LA but is in town tonight doing some big promotion party at a huge gay club in NYC and we were going to be "put on the list" so we could go. Then he tells us it doesn't actually START until after 11:30. I don't really know why I am surprised. Did I think the party at the gay club was somehow going to start at 7pm? No. It'll be an all night rager. So here I am thinking gee, is Dave by any chance available for dinner? I don't think I have a third night of going out in me. Especially being that NY stays open until after 4 AM. At least in the Jerz things close at 2!! Thankfully I think Dave does have some "free time" from 6-9 pm (god he's such an actor now, penciling us in and all, but gotta love him). Hopefully we'll get to go to dinner, maybe walk around the city a bit, and get the hell home.
Yup. I feel old.
So here I am, it's 10 AM and I magically slept until 9 today. But two days out past 2 AM in a row and I'm seriously shot to hell. Chris and I are supposed to go hang with our friend, Dave Moretti tonight. Chris and Dave have been friends since high school and were in their sketch comedy group together. Dave is a pretty well known actor in the gay community and stars in a show called "The Lair" on the Here! network- a gay focused television network. That's him in the title pic on the right...without the fangs...it's a vampire show but he plays the detective! Anyway, he lives in LA but is in town tonight doing some big promotion party at a huge gay club in NYC and we were going to be "put on the list" so we could go. Then he tells us it doesn't actually START until after 11:30. I don't really know why I am surprised. Did I think the party at the gay club was somehow going to start at 7pm? No. It'll be an all night rager. So here I am thinking gee, is Dave by any chance available for dinner? I don't think I have a third night of going out in me. Especially being that NY stays open until after 4 AM. At least in the Jerz things close at 2!! Thankfully I think Dave does have some "free time" from 6-9 pm (god he's such an actor now, penciling us in and all, but gotta love him). Hopefully we'll get to go to dinner, maybe walk around the city a bit, and get the hell home.
Yup. I feel old.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Karaoke
Last night I went to Karaoke Night with Brennan and Joe. Joe is actually a legitimate musician --> Joe Wilson Music and pretty awesome if you ask me. But this makes for good times during Karaoke. The bar was definitely full of some interesting folk...
For starters, I pull up and see Brennan outside. "This guy's singing opera. He brought his own CD." What? I take a moment to listen and in fact he is correct. I walk in and see "Mickey" who is a 'Nam Vet busting a lung on some high notes. He retires to a corner when he is finished and I notice that he still has headphones on. He's sort of mumbling to himself. Holy crap, he's actually practicing for the next song...
But he's a 'Nam Vet. We all know this means he can do whatever the EFF he wants and no one should say a damn thing about it. Good for you, Mickey. Whatever gets you through the PTSD. (no, I mean seriously).
There were one or two legitimately good singers, Joe including, but for the most part it was your standard fare of horribly drunk trashy girls murdering already horrible songs like "Hotel California" (puke). At one point a group of insanely smashed girls tried to get up there and sing "Hey Jude." Now...isn't there a code? Isn't there a Karaoke code that says:
A) Never attempt to sing the Beatles
B) If you are stupid enough to attempt to sing the Beatles, don't sing "Hey Jude." Everyone knows that song and will know you are effing murdering it.
C) If your version of singing is more like screaming in a single flat key...don't sing at all!
No? Well, someone should make one. I did not personally sing any Karaoke though I did sing my little heart out at the table. The fact of the matter is, I certainly wasn't going to sing alone, Joe is an amazing singer who should sing alone and not with me, Brennan only wanted to scream backup for Joe, and I did not have a group of drunk sluts with me to go and sing some horrible version of "Magic Carpet Ride" - so I just sat this one out.
For starters, I pull up and see Brennan outside. "This guy's singing opera. He brought his own CD." What? I take a moment to listen and in fact he is correct. I walk in and see "Mickey" who is a 'Nam Vet busting a lung on some high notes. He retires to a corner when he is finished and I notice that he still has headphones on. He's sort of mumbling to himself. Holy crap, he's actually practicing for the next song...
But he's a 'Nam Vet. We all know this means he can do whatever the EFF he wants and no one should say a damn thing about it. Good for you, Mickey. Whatever gets you through the PTSD. (no, I mean seriously).
There were one or two legitimately good singers, Joe including, but for the most part it was your standard fare of horribly drunk trashy girls murdering already horrible songs like "Hotel California" (puke). At one point a group of insanely smashed girls tried to get up there and sing "Hey Jude." Now...isn't there a code? Isn't there a Karaoke code that says:
A) Never attempt to sing the Beatles
B) If you are stupid enough to attempt to sing the Beatles, don't sing "Hey Jude." Everyone knows that song and will know you are effing murdering it.
C) If your version of singing is more like screaming in a single flat key...don't sing at all!
No? Well, someone should make one. I did not personally sing any Karaoke though I did sing my little heart out at the table. The fact of the matter is, I certainly wasn't going to sing alone, Joe is an amazing singer who should sing alone and not with me, Brennan only wanted to scream backup for Joe, and I did not have a group of drunk sluts with me to go and sing some horrible version of "Magic Carpet Ride" - so I just sat this one out.
Here's Brennan and Joe rocking out to some Weezer. Score.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
I'm Nervous....
...about the PA primary!!! I've already petitioned all my college friends who are from or still live in PA to make sure they are registered and go vote
Now let's just hope they listen! Being a New Yorker, I knew Hillary would win in NY- but I can at least hope that my college town and state will vote Obama! Eek!
Monday, April 21, 2008
Papillons and Kitties and...Birds? Oh My!
Look at this ridiculous love fest. My dog Tug (the red and white one), my brother's dog Holly...also a Papillon like Tug...and my cat Morgan. Let me tell you something. I have no idea how this happened. First of all, Morgan hates everyone. I love Morgan to death but she will scratch your freakin eyes out if you pet her 3 seconds beyond the point at which she no longer wishes to be pet. The fact that I walk in on her snuggling up with these two? Total insanity. We were watching my brother's dog Holly this weekend. And as for Holly, she is the reason I told Stephen to marry Jocelyn. No one has Papillons and when I found out she had one, I said she HAS to be the one. Tug was the only Papillon I'd ever seen in person at that point! But she is a pip. She thinks she is a rotweiller and will attempt to take on any dog, cat, or human if she wants. Typically she and Morgan do not get along. And as for my sweet little Tug. He is the best dog ever, but is a total wimp. He loves people and loves Morgan, but can do without other dogs. He is either scared of them or ignores them. He and Holly have learned to co-exist but he certainly is not apt to SNOOGLING with her!!So this may have been the funniest thing I saw all day. Until it turned to the most disturbing.
Perhaps you don't see the fourth member of this little picture here. Yes, there is a fourth. After taking this picture, I went to go pet Holly. What's this? Holly, you have a feather in your tail. I go to pull it out. It's not pulling out. I look closer. What the...
It appears that Holly's tail fur is all matted in some sort of crazy cocooned rat's nest. Something is effing in there! I pick her up holding her as far away from me as I possibly could and run yelling downstairs to my father who is actually on the phone with Stephen. I'm squealing at this point. I shove the dog in my dad's arms and he takes her outside.
Then I hear HIM yelling. "Rainey!!! You won't believe this!!!"
AAAAAA! WHAT!!!!
Yea, you guessed it. There was a dead baby bird tangled in Holly's hair. I have absolutely no idea how this happened. I have no idea whether it was already dead or if it died in the throes of attempting to release itself from Holly's tail fluff. It was a tiny thing, but it was dead and tangled in her tail. I now start flipping out. She was sleeping in my bed last night! Has it been there since last night? Am I going to die of bird flu? Did I touch the bird and then unknowingly but my hands near my mouth? WHERE'S THE PURELL! OH MY GOD!!
My dad chops off hunks of Holly's tail fur to get this thing out and disposes of it. I call my brother squealing like a maniac. He is totally baffled. We are all totally baffled.
Something tells me that in the history of all dogs on the entire planet, this is the first time one has come inside with a dead baby bird tangled in its tail. I'd bet money on it. Someone PLEASE prove me wrong.
Obama in Scranton!
Senator Obama at the Glider Diner in Scranton! I have to say, even I wouldn't eat at the Glider, but kudos to Barack for giving it a go!
I went to college at the University of Scranton in Scranton, PA. Most people know Scranton from it's fame in the show "The Office" (and let me tell you, they have it dead on, and knowing about Scranton makes that show so much funnier because they throw in tons of jokes and references you'd only get if you are familiar with Scranton). But it's also an area of political focus. Scranton used to be "The Electric City" and was a booming economy for coal. Then the coal ran out. Scranton plunged into total destitution and was known for having the highest population of people over the age of 80, second only to some town in Florida. Essentially, the jobs died out and all the young people left. The University was about the only thing keeping it going. Healthcare, unemployment, social security...Scranton was an area in total crisis. But they made changes. Granted tons of money for city was earned by citing college students for underage drinking or even just being NEAR a party my sophomore year of college. In that one year, they cracked down on the students so hard that they managed to make enough to revitalize the city. Do I think this was the best way to go about it? Um. No. Certainly not when I was in college. But the amount of dough they racked up made for some seriously nice changes. Businesses started moving back into the downtown. Suddenly there were cute restaurants, new bars, boutiques. It almost looked like...a city again! I have to admit, Scranton is now a sweet little spot and I give it a lot of credit. It's not easy being North Eastern PA (NEPA for short). It's heavy on rain, clouds, and wind, and never short on dysfunction. It has hills so huge that it made me wish they'd install conveyor belts to get me to and from class. But all in all, I freakin' loved going to Scranton. And I freakin' love the NEPA. It's cheap as hell to live there. Chris and I have considered moving there on more than one occasion, but the pitiful job market means we'll be staying in New York. Most likely for good.
Way to go, Barack! Wish I was there to see you!!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Seeing Ex-Boyfriends
By some odd chain of events, I ended up in Philly yesterday for my ex-boyfriend Steve's 30th birthday. I realize how strange this sounds. Most specifically since Chris was away all weekend at National Guard. However, Chris was well aware that I was going and being that Steve and I dated a gazillion years ago, he was fine with it (or so he says). Steve and I have always remained friends. Not "hang out all the time" friends. But friends. And somehow it ended up that the extra ticket he had for the Phillies/Mets game was going to go to....yours truly.
At first I'm thinking this might be a little weird. The other game attendees are going to be his older brother and some friends. Friends that I have not seen since we dated. Aren't they going to think this is weird? But then I tell myself no. They probably won't even REMEMBER me as Lorraine the girl Steve dated. I'll just be his friend Lorraine from college. That's fine.
Except that I was dead wrong. His brother must have some kind of supersonic memory. Not only did he remember me as "the hot girl that Steve fucked it up with" (apparently he told Steve often that he was a total idiot for breaking up with me. I can't say I disagree of course) but he seemed to know things about me that implied I'd been a topic of conversation on more than one recent occasion. "Oh, is your husband still in the army? Are you still an occupational therapist? You live just outside NYC, right?" He seemed to know more about my life than Steve did when we were dating!!
Then there was Jay. I'm almost startled to think of the last time I saw Jay. It involved Steve and I visiting him and his girlfriend. To make a long story short, Jay ended up seeing me naked. So all I am thinking now is, "Does this guy remember me as the girl he saw naked? Does he have a mental image of me naked? No way, right?"
Wrong.
Jay comes up to me almost immediately and says, "Do you remember that time we all hung out when you came to visit Harrisburg?" with a look on his face that says, "And I totally saw you naked??" So I smirk back...yes yes I remember.
So I am officially "that girl." I'm NEVER "that girl." The one who everyone is looking at thinking what the eff is she doing here. Where's her husband? Doesn't anyone care that she's hanging out with someone she used to have "relations" with? Suddenly I am completely self conscious and thinking yea, what AM I doing here? But I'm just having innocent fun with someone I now see as a friend. So what if people here have had relations with me or seen me naked or think I'm the hot girl (which I find preposterous) . Eff em!
All in all it was actually a really good time. It did, however, remind me of things that I loved and hated about dating Steve. In college he was just the coolest in my eyes. Vegetarian straight edger addicted to hardcore music and speed metal? Yes please!! Of course while he is still a Vegetarian, he's mostly dropped all that as he drinks now and doesn't bounce around to hardcore shows melting his face off. But there was plenty of stuff that made me nuts. For example, his amazing ability to be late for EVERYthing. What was supposed to be my going to a 4pm Phillies game and some dinner turned into my not leaving until after 11pm. This would be because we didn't actually EAT until 10pm. Steve is the kind of guy who says he will be somewhere and then shows up 6 hours late. No seriously. 6 hours. Once he told me he would be at my house at 8pm and showed up at 2am. As if nothing was wrong. After the game, Steve told some friends he was just going to go back to his place to change and then meet them for dinner. In a normal world, this should take no longer than 15 or 20 minutes at MOST for guys.
Right.
Me and Steve and his bro and Jay all go back to Steve's place after the game. First off, I am then reminded how Steve is even more of a slob than I am. In fact he's just outright dirty. I almost didn't want to use his bathroom. He actually remarked "sorry if there are pubes and stuff in there" and something about Jay having explosive diarrhea and him puking last night. Awesome. I enter the bathroom wondering just what kind of hair that is exactly all over the sink. I believe I decided Steve was actually shaving facial hair that he left in the sink...let's hope. I notice some random tortilla chips in the wastebasket. I won't even begin to go into the condition of the toilet. I somehow manage to make it out alive.
Steve on guitar. Jay on drums.
I realize the picture above looks more like two teenagers than two 30 year olds. But hang on just a minute now. There's a drum set? I need to try this. So I kick Jay out of the drummer seat. I love drumming! Love it! This is the best game ever! I need to buy an X-Box and the $200 Rock Band game...TOMORROW!! Crap. Wait. What time is it? Yea, you guessed it. Hours have gone by. Notice in the above photo that they are still in Phillies garb. Our "quick run home and change" turned into a Rock Band extravaganza. Now I have a slightly better understanding of what happens in the infinite lost hours of Steve-dom.
By the time we actually get out of the apartment and go eat it's about 10pm. I eat quickly and say bye to everyone, thinking perhaps I will see them again when they have forgotten the images of me naked. Perhaps not. But all in all, as seeing ex-boyfriends go, it was a good time.
At first I'm thinking this might be a little weird. The other game attendees are going to be his older brother and some friends. Friends that I have not seen since we dated. Aren't they going to think this is weird? But then I tell myself no. They probably won't even REMEMBER me as Lorraine the girl Steve dated. I'll just be his friend Lorraine from college. That's fine.
Except that I was dead wrong. His brother must have some kind of supersonic memory. Not only did he remember me as "the hot girl that Steve fucked it up with" (apparently he told Steve often that he was a total idiot for breaking up with me. I can't say I disagree of course) but he seemed to know things about me that implied I'd been a topic of conversation on more than one recent occasion. "Oh, is your husband still in the army? Are you still an occupational therapist? You live just outside NYC, right?" He seemed to know more about my life than Steve did when we were dating!!
Then there was Jay. I'm almost startled to think of the last time I saw Jay. It involved Steve and I visiting him and his girlfriend. To make a long story short, Jay ended up seeing me naked. So all I am thinking now is, "Does this guy remember me as the girl he saw naked? Does he have a mental image of me naked? No way, right?"
Wrong.
Jay comes up to me almost immediately and says, "Do you remember that time we all hung out when you came to visit Harrisburg?" with a look on his face that says, "And I totally saw you naked??" So I smirk back...yes yes I remember.
So I am officially "that girl." I'm NEVER "that girl." The one who everyone is looking at thinking what the eff is she doing here. Where's her husband? Doesn't anyone care that she's hanging out with someone she used to have "relations" with? Suddenly I am completely self conscious and thinking yea, what AM I doing here? But I'm just having innocent fun with someone I now see as a friend. So what if people here have had relations with me or seen me naked or think I'm the hot girl (which I find preposterous) . Eff em!
All in all it was actually a really good time. It did, however, remind me of things that I loved and hated about dating Steve. In college he was just the coolest in my eyes. Vegetarian straight edger addicted to hardcore music and speed metal? Yes please!! Of course while he is still a Vegetarian, he's mostly dropped all that as he drinks now and doesn't bounce around to hardcore shows melting his face off. But there was plenty of stuff that made me nuts. For example, his amazing ability to be late for EVERYthing. What was supposed to be my going to a 4pm Phillies game and some dinner turned into my not leaving until after 11pm. This would be because we didn't actually EAT until 10pm. Steve is the kind of guy who says he will be somewhere and then shows up 6 hours late. No seriously. 6 hours. Once he told me he would be at my house at 8pm and showed up at 2am. As if nothing was wrong. After the game, Steve told some friends he was just going to go back to his place to change and then meet them for dinner. In a normal world, this should take no longer than 15 or 20 minutes at MOST for guys.
Right.
Me and Steve and his bro and Jay all go back to Steve's place after the game. First off, I am then reminded how Steve is even more of a slob than I am. In fact he's just outright dirty. I almost didn't want to use his bathroom. He actually remarked "sorry if there are pubes and stuff in there" and something about Jay having explosive diarrhea and him puking last night. Awesome. I enter the bathroom wondering just what kind of hair that is exactly all over the sink. I believe I decided Steve was actually shaving facial hair that he left in the sink...let's hope. I notice some random tortilla chips in the wastebasket. I won't even begin to go into the condition of the toilet. I somehow manage to make it out alive.
I come out and see the boys set up in front of the X-Box. No one has made any move to go
change. They have something called "Rock Band" which is the next evolution of the "Guitar Hero" fame.
change. They have something called "Rock Band" which is the next evolution of the "Guitar Hero" fame.
Steve on guitar. Jay on drums.I realize the picture above looks more like two teenagers than two 30 year olds. But hang on just a minute now. There's a drum set? I need to try this. So I kick Jay out of the drummer seat. I love drumming! Love it! This is the best game ever! I need to buy an X-Box and the $200 Rock Band game...TOMORROW!! Crap. Wait. What time is it? Yea, you guessed it. Hours have gone by. Notice in the above photo that they are still in Phillies garb. Our "quick run home and change" turned into a Rock Band extravaganza. Now I have a slightly better understanding of what happens in the infinite lost hours of Steve-dom.
By the time we actually get out of the apartment and go eat it's about 10pm. I eat quickly and say bye to everyone, thinking perhaps I will see them again when they have forgotten the images of me naked. Perhaps not. But all in all, as seeing ex-boyfriends go, it was a good time.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Open Windows
Man I needed today. I needed it so bad. I'm sitting here right now with all the windows open listening to (you guessed it) the crickets sing to me. It was 79 degrees today. Don't get me wrong. I love all four seasons. But my mood is profoundly affected by so many things and sunlight happens to be a big one. So when I see the sun shining and I feel it on my skin- to be honest I'm more likely to slip into mania now more than ever! I get so happy I think I might burst. Then I get a little impulsive, I'll be honest. But all in all I had a kickass day.
For starters, I went to the district annual review meeting for one of the kids I work with. I managed to get him occupational therapy services over the summer, as well as have his OT continue twice a week for next year. Score. On the way to work after this I called my co-worker and told her we should run out and get salads and eat outside. We work on a main road in a building, but there is a small patch of sunny grass on a ledge out back and it is just perfect for eating lunch!! 40 minutes later we agree to go back inside, albeit reluctantly, as we had kids to see. I go into the bathroom and see my rosy cheeks and a few extra freckles and I just have to smile. Those little freckles mean the leaves will be out any time now, I'll be kayaking at my cousin Claire's lake house and going to the beach soon enough!!
Then...bonus. My 3:15 canceled. My 4:00 canceled. My 5:00 asked to come in early!! So i see him at 3:15 and I am OUT OF WORK by 4:15!!! I sit in some traffic on the way home but I don't even care as I have the windows down and Cold War Kids playing (great sunny day music). KK calls and asks me if I want to walk the lake. Hell yes I do. We motor it for 3.3 miles and then we decide to drive to Nyack and walk the sick hills there.
Yes, the horizon is the top of that hill. Granted we are only walking but KK has shitty asthma and I'm still a little bit of a joint disaster so we do whatever we can for exercise. (don't judge me, as I am clearly already judging myself...).
Came home and Chris was on his way to leaving for National Guard this weekend. I still cringe whenever I see him in those damned fatigues. I know some people think the army uniform is hot (though I have to say, when he's just wearing the pants with the brown t-shirt and the boots...well...yum...) BUT for the most part I just have horrible flashbacks to TN when he was working full time active duty and he'd come home in that damned thing every day. And of course Iraq.
But no worries. It didn't ruin my wonderful day. I did sit down for this blog with a mind racing, no doubt due to the sudden influx of sunshine and vitamin D. I have to remind myself to just stay calm tonight, not do any online purchasing, not go out and wander around by myself, and not do anything else that hints of mania...and I shall be fine.
Cheers to spring!!
**ADDENDUM**
Typically when Chris is not around, I end up not eating. I love to cook for him and for us but when it's just me, I just don't bother. But, as if today couldn't get any better, my father brought me SUSHI!!! Yes! Officially the greatest day ever!
For starters, I went to the district annual review meeting for one of the kids I work with. I managed to get him occupational therapy services over the summer, as well as have his OT continue twice a week for next year. Score. On the way to work after this I called my co-worker and told her we should run out and get salads and eat outside. We work on a main road in a building, but there is a small patch of sunny grass on a ledge out back and it is just perfect for eating lunch!! 40 minutes later we agree to go back inside, albeit reluctantly, as we had kids to see. I go into the bathroom and see my rosy cheeks and a few extra freckles and I just have to smile. Those little freckles mean the leaves will be out any time now, I'll be kayaking at my cousin Claire's lake house and going to the beach soon enough!!
Then...bonus. My 3:15 canceled. My 4:00 canceled. My 5:00 asked to come in early!! So i see him at 3:15 and I am OUT OF WORK by 4:15!!! I sit in some traffic on the way home but I don't even care as I have the windows down and Cold War Kids playing (great sunny day music). KK calls and asks me if I want to walk the lake. Hell yes I do. We motor it for 3.3 miles and then we decide to drive to Nyack and walk the sick hills there.
Yes, the horizon is the top of that hill. Granted we are only walking but KK has shitty asthma and I'm still a little bit of a joint disaster so we do whatever we can for exercise. (don't judge me, as I am clearly already judging myself...).
Came home and Chris was on his way to leaving for National Guard this weekend. I still cringe whenever I see him in those damned fatigues. I know some people think the army uniform is hot (though I have to say, when he's just wearing the pants with the brown t-shirt and the boots...well...yum...) BUT for the most part I just have horrible flashbacks to TN when he was working full time active duty and he'd come home in that damned thing every day. And of course Iraq.
But no worries. It didn't ruin my wonderful day. I did sit down for this blog with a mind racing, no doubt due to the sudden influx of sunshine and vitamin D. I have to remind myself to just stay calm tonight, not do any online purchasing, not go out and wander around by myself, and not do anything else that hints of mania...and I shall be fine.
Cheers to spring!!
**ADDENDUM**
Typically when Chris is not around, I end up not eating. I love to cook for him and for us but when it's just me, I just don't bother. But, as if today couldn't get any better, my father brought me SUSHI!!! Yes! Officially the greatest day ever!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Veterans
You know, I won't even begin to get started on how the Army more or less just dumps you once you get out of active duty, regardless of how many tours you served in Iraq. If you weren't injured or killed, you're pretty much just tossed out there with a pat on the back and a "good luck." I won't even get into the discrimination being an Iraq war veteran gets you (somehow having that on your resume is a negative. When applying for jobs, Chris looked into applying for a job at Google. It actually said that one "need not" put military experience on their resume, as it was not considered experience. Seriously?? That is insane to me, and is essentially outcasting veterans as they would have a huge chunk of missing time on their resume, or it would look like they did nothing at all since college. They may as well say "We don't hire vets.")
But this one? This really killed me. The following is from an article I read this morning...""
"FRESNO, Calif. - Forced to leave the combat zone after his two brothers died in the Iraq war, Army Spc. Jason Hubbard faced another battle once he returned home: The military cut off his family's health care, stopped his G.I. educational subsidies and wanted him to repay his sign-up bonus."
It goes on to explain that he petitioned to his congressman, who is thankfully trying to rectify the situation. However, that's because this guy spoke up. There is no telling how many similar stories there must be, perhaps less educated or knowledgeable soldiers who may not have realized that petitioning a congressman was an option.
One recent experience Chris and I have had? We do our banking with First Command, an Army bank, albeit a private bank. The only reason we were ever involved with them was because they provide a lot of free banking services to soldiers and veterans. For life.
Well. They did. You're assigned a "financial planner." This was always free. We are thankfully good with our money and my brother helps us with investments so we never really needed him much, but he was there to touch base with now and then. All of a sudden he's calling us all the time and wants us to just come in and touch base. I should have known this was fishy. He gets us in there talking talking talking our heads off and then slaps us with this "new policy" that First Command is now "fee for service" and his financial advice would cost us $1500 from this point on.
Yes, you heard me. $1500. Besides the fact that this was completely ridiculous in so far as how it was presented to us, that is an EXORBITANT amount of money to ask. My uncle was a financial planner for many years and said he's never heard of anyone asking that much just to put together some friggin pie chart of your investments. Now again, Chris and I have the education and the resources to know that this is effing ridiculous. A "financial plan" is essentially a subjective snapshot, as my uncle explained to me, that can change year to year. So really, having some guy tell us how much money we should put in investments we already have is completely unnecessary. (so he is not picking investments for us. my brother helps me do that and they are all already set. he's just telling us how much we'd need to put it in to retire some day. we already know it's a lot more than we can put it right now. i don't need to pay you $1500 to tell me that).
So we explained to the man that we were very put off by this as our only reason for being involved with First Command in the first place was that they have special services and rates etc for soldiers and veterans. Now that was suddenly null and void. Now they are essentially useless to us. They suck as a bank anyway.
Perhaps I should petition MY congressman. Eliot Engel look out!!
But this one? This really killed me. The following is from an article I read this morning...""
"FRESNO, Calif. - Forced to leave the combat zone after his two brothers died in the Iraq war, Army Spc. Jason Hubbard faced another battle once he returned home: The military cut off his family's health care, stopped his G.I. educational subsidies and wanted him to repay his sign-up bonus."
It goes on to explain that he petitioned to his congressman, who is thankfully trying to rectify the situation. However, that's because this guy spoke up. There is no telling how many similar stories there must be, perhaps less educated or knowledgeable soldiers who may not have realized that petitioning a congressman was an option.
One recent experience Chris and I have had? We do our banking with First Command, an Army bank, albeit a private bank. The only reason we were ever involved with them was because they provide a lot of free banking services to soldiers and veterans. For life.
Well. They did. You're assigned a "financial planner." This was always free. We are thankfully good with our money and my brother helps us with investments so we never really needed him much, but he was there to touch base with now and then. All of a sudden he's calling us all the time and wants us to just come in and touch base. I should have known this was fishy. He gets us in there talking talking talking our heads off and then slaps us with this "new policy" that First Command is now "fee for service" and his financial advice would cost us $1500 from this point on.
Yes, you heard me. $1500. Besides the fact that this was completely ridiculous in so far as how it was presented to us, that is an EXORBITANT amount of money to ask. My uncle was a financial planner for many years and said he's never heard of anyone asking that much just to put together some friggin pie chart of your investments. Now again, Chris and I have the education and the resources to know that this is effing ridiculous. A "financial plan" is essentially a subjective snapshot, as my uncle explained to me, that can change year to year. So really, having some guy tell us how much money we should put in investments we already have is completely unnecessary. (so he is not picking investments for us. my brother helps me do that and they are all already set. he's just telling us how much we'd need to put it in to retire some day. we already know it's a lot more than we can put it right now. i don't need to pay you $1500 to tell me that).
So we explained to the man that we were very put off by this as our only reason for being involved with First Command in the first place was that they have special services and rates etc for soldiers and veterans. Now that was suddenly null and void. Now they are essentially useless to us. They suck as a bank anyway.
Perhaps I should petition MY congressman. Eliot Engel look out!!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Christopher
Sometimes I think it's hard to describe Chris and I. As I've stated in previous posts, we've been through more crazy shit than anyone should had to have gone through at our age. But yet it's really never affected us in how we interact with each other. Sure it wasn't always easy. Things take their toll. It took some getting used to having him back after deployments, but for the most part, after everything we've gone through, we are still...us. And us is pretty damn cool if you ask me. We've managed to strike some perfect balance between our stark differences and while sometimes our problem solving solutions are quite different (his being stay quiet if I get annoyed at him, mine being do a crazy song and dance....literally... if he gets annoyed at me. I mean how can you stay mad at me when I am performing my own rendition of "Bump and Grind" with the broom while singing at the top of my lungs? I mean seriously...) we always seem to figure it out and move on quickly. And for the record, there is no end to my singing and dancing. I make up songs for everything I do. I have a dance for just about every moment of the day. Most men would (and have) run screaming from someone like me. I am so completely ridiculous at moments that I am not quite sure sometimes how Chris...even keeled level headed Chris...ended up with a whack-a-doo like myself. But boy I sure am glad he did!!
Of course then I remember that beyond his Ultra Running and military background, Chris spent his younger years in a sketch comedy group in Providence, spent his high school years dressing in polyester 70s bell bottoms dancing to Saturday Night Fever (for some reason he developed a thing for disco) and is best known for his absolutely amazing ability to do the worm.
Maybe we aren't so different after all...
Of course then I remember that beyond his Ultra Running and military background, Chris spent his younger years in a sketch comedy group in Providence, spent his high school years dressing in polyester 70s bell bottoms dancing to Saturday Night Fever (for some reason he developed a thing for disco) and is best known for his absolutely amazing ability to do the worm.
Maybe we aren't so different after all...
Cancer Sucks
I mean, I guess that's more or less understood. But seriously. What the hell?
This year I am again participating in the Revlon Run/Walk for Women. My fundraising site is here.
If you're feeling generous, feel free to click on the donations link. I haven't gotten any yet but last year I managed to collect over $700!! Take a minute to also check out my team, "Team Oogie". The Team Oogie page is run by my lifelong friends Liz and Monica Walsh in memory of their mother, Cathy Walsh, who died of breast cancer. They created a team and now we all run in memory of our moms.
So this brings me to a disturbing observation. Lots of my friends have dead moms. In fact I'm starting to feel like more people I know have a dead mom than not. When my mother died, I was in high school. It was a few days before my 17th birthday. At this point, it was completely unheard of for someone to lose a parent. Most specifically a mom. My mother died very suddenly from lung cancer so no one even knew she was sick. There wasn't really any time for the word to get around. By the time she was diagnosed it was way too late. Her lungs had actually begun to liquefy. I just remember the strange state of shock it sent me into and the way I sort of just floated about ignoring it. I just wanted to get back to school, get out of my house, go take tests and go to the boys' school's lacrosse games with my friends (my high school was all girls). But when I went back to school after Christmas, as she died right before my birthday/xmas and the xmas break, all eyes were on me. I was literally like a walking freak show. The tip toeing, the randoms coming up to me to say sorry, the nuns harassing the hell out of me. It was more like pure torture than anything. I always got this feeling that everyone was waiting for me to completely break down and scream and cry . I never did cry.
But then I fast forward to today. The experience I went through at such a young age has seemed to become commonplace now that I am in my late 20's. I don't think this is how it's supposed to be. I expected that once I got to 40 I'd see lots of my friends losing parents. But not now. Not under the age of 30. I know so many other people who have lost moms. All of them to breast cancer actually. Losing Mrs. Walsh was horrible. I grew up down the block from Monica and Liz and so I've known them my entire life. Mrs. Walsh was like my second mom. And then she died too. At her funeral it was like we had all joined some secret society, me and the Walshes and th several other motherless friends. We were able to joke about how completely ridiculous it is, what a disaster our poor dads are, what a circus it was listening to everyone give their "heartfelt condolences" when really they all just said the most asinine things imaginable. We started to wonder if Rockland and Bergen counties were somehow built on a nuclear waste dump at the rate our moms were dropping like flies...
Needless to say, this was never a club any of us expected to be in. Cancer sucks.
This year I am again participating in the Revlon Run/Walk for Women. My fundraising site is here.
If you're feeling generous, feel free to click on the donations link. I haven't gotten any yet but last year I managed to collect over $700!! Take a minute to also check out my team, "Team Oogie". The Team Oogie page is run by my lifelong friends Liz and Monica Walsh in memory of their mother, Cathy Walsh, who died of breast cancer. They created a team and now we all run in memory of our moms.
So this brings me to a disturbing observation. Lots of my friends have dead moms. In fact I'm starting to feel like more people I know have a dead mom than not. When my mother died, I was in high school. It was a few days before my 17th birthday. At this point, it was completely unheard of for someone to lose a parent. Most specifically a mom. My mother died very suddenly from lung cancer so no one even knew she was sick. There wasn't really any time for the word to get around. By the time she was diagnosed it was way too late. Her lungs had actually begun to liquefy. I just remember the strange state of shock it sent me into and the way I sort of just floated about ignoring it. I just wanted to get back to school, get out of my house, go take tests and go to the boys' school's lacrosse games with my friends (my high school was all girls). But when I went back to school after Christmas, as she died right before my birthday/xmas and the xmas break, all eyes were on me. I was literally like a walking freak show. The tip toeing, the randoms coming up to me to say sorry, the nuns harassing the hell out of me. It was more like pure torture than anything. I always got this feeling that everyone was waiting for me to completely break down and scream and cry . I never did cry.
But then I fast forward to today. The experience I went through at such a young age has seemed to become commonplace now that I am in my late 20's. I don't think this is how it's supposed to be. I expected that once I got to 40 I'd see lots of my friends losing parents. But not now. Not under the age of 30. I know so many other people who have lost moms. All of them to breast cancer actually. Losing Mrs. Walsh was horrible. I grew up down the block from Monica and Liz and so I've known them my entire life. Mrs. Walsh was like my second mom. And then she died too. At her funeral it was like we had all joined some secret society, me and the Walshes and th several other motherless friends. We were able to joke about how completely ridiculous it is, what a disaster our poor dads are, what a circus it was listening to everyone give their "heartfelt condolences" when really they all just said the most asinine things imaginable. We started to wonder if Rockland and Bergen counties were somehow built on a nuclear waste dump at the rate our moms were dropping like flies...
Needless to say, this was never a club any of us expected to be in. Cancer sucks.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Ultra-Running Fool
My husband Chris is an ultra-runner. For those of you who don't know what that means (beyond it meaning that he is totally insane), it means that he runs races greater in distance than a marathon, or greater than 26.2 miles. Now for some, "beyond" 26.2 might only mean a 50K (30something miles). For my husband? It means not only 50 milers, but 100 milers as well. Yes, you heard me correctly. Chris has run 100 miles- 29 hours and 24 minutes of running with no sleep and little stopping to eat, pee, etc.
The fact of the matter is, I am beyond baffled at this entire sport. The whole ultra-running community, being that it is so small, is totally incestuous. I mean everyone knows everyone who's run with everyone somewhere sometime somehow before. We met people at the 100 miler in Wyoming that Chris had run with at races in NY. I think on some level, you sort of have to be born for this sort of thing. Chris was just made to run. And run and run and run. You can't just go from someone who doesn't do anything to being an ultra runner. You need to have a certain body. One with great joints, great oxygen capacity, great circulation, a natural ability for serious endurance. Chris happens to fit the bill perfectly. He completed several marathons when he realized they weren't a challenge anymore. With hardly training he could still manage to run a 3.5 hour marathon. I believe his best time was somewhere around 3 hours and 12 minutes. (that's under 7.5 minute miles for 26 miles, for the record). So why not try ULTRA marathons?? Not to mention he wanted to move on to more trail running.
That's where they get ya. Trail running! How fun! Ultras are almost always trail runs through the middle of insane mountains in the middle of nowhere. SO doesn't that sound great? Let's meander through the woods alone and at night for hours and hours and HOURS on end! Next thing you know you're signing up for 50 milers, then you're buying head lamps to wear in the middle of the night to run 100 milers, then you're scheduling your entire life around the next 12 hour run you can fit in. It's a slippery slope, my friends!!
Being married to an ultra-runner is a funny thing. For several months of the year, our lives revolve around Chris's running schedule. Training for ultras means a full day of running. Saturdays are out for months at a time. In the end I don't mind really. Races are often held in beautiful scenic locations and in the end I know all the training will turn into a cool camping trip come race time. But I know more about runners that I'd ever hoped. I know about their gear, their lingo, the top names in the industry. It's a pretty addictive lifestyle. And the people you meet!! Most couples you meet consist of co-athletes. They met in the running scene, they run together, train together, crew each other's races.
And then there's me. Yes, I look like I should be a runner. I'm tall, I have long scrawny legs, I'm relatively thin. So people come up to meet asking what I'M training for. Naive fools. I should just start lying about it. "Right, I ran the Mountain Masochist 50 milers in 8 hours last year, it was CRAZY!" But instead I just say, "No, I don't run. But I can swim for a really really long time!!!!" I mean I used to run. I used to love running. But what am I going to say? "Yes, I used to be a pretty good runner. I was running 6-8 miles a day at one point. But then I got Lyme's disease and my entire body, especially the joints, went to shit, had open heart surgery progressing it into further shit, but hey, I'm starting to get better and my knees can almost tolerate a whole one mile run now!!" Right. I'd rather crawl into a hole and hide.
So instead I am just the outcast. The problem with the ultra community is that anyone who isn't a runner is seen as a primadonna of sorts. This greatly pisses me off. I don't not run because I'm lazy. I would love to run, I just can't yet. I don't know that my knees will ever really appreciate me taking on something like that again. I'd like to think so, but I can't really say.
In any event, Chris was supposed to be running the North Face Endurance Challenge today. It's a 50 miler run by Dean Karnazes (THE name in ultras- duuuuh) which is pretty damn cool. It's held at Bear Mountain, which is where Chris trains. Home turf. It was going to be awesome. The trails there are SICK to run on and out of towners have no idea what they are in for. It was rated 5/5 in technical terrain, 5/5 in overall challenge, and 4/5 in elevation difficulty. But my poor guy got injured. This was a little bit like someone ripping his heart out. So instead, he's volunteering. He got up at 1:00 this morning to get to Bear Mountain for 2:00am so he could run/walk (being that he is injured) the first 10.5 miles of the 50 miler to make sure it was marked correctly, cracking glowsticks along the way. As luck would have it, it was raining all night and morning, the fog is so thick you can't see 2 feet forward, and my guy was out there in the middle of the damn woods all night in these conditions. Head lamp or not, I would have an all out panic attack in about 30 seconds in conditions like that. Hell just in the DARK I'd probably die. I won't even take the dog out to my backyard in the dark!!!! I'm terrified. But anyway, I heard from him and while it was a very slow pace, he finished the job. Now he'll stay there all day manning an aid station.
Perhaps he'll snap a picture with Dean when he runs by. :)
The fact of the matter is, I am beyond baffled at this entire sport. The whole ultra-running community, being that it is so small, is totally incestuous. I mean everyone knows everyone who's run with everyone somewhere sometime somehow before. We met people at the 100 miler in Wyoming that Chris had run with at races in NY. I think on some level, you sort of have to be born for this sort of thing. Chris was just made to run. And run and run and run. You can't just go from someone who doesn't do anything to being an ultra runner. You need to have a certain body. One with great joints, great oxygen capacity, great circulation, a natural ability for serious endurance. Chris happens to fit the bill perfectly. He completed several marathons when he realized they weren't a challenge anymore. With hardly training he could still manage to run a 3.5 hour marathon. I believe his best time was somewhere around 3 hours and 12 minutes. (that's under 7.5 minute miles for 26 miles, for the record). So why not try ULTRA marathons?? Not to mention he wanted to move on to more trail running.
That's where they get ya. Trail running! How fun! Ultras are almost always trail runs through the middle of insane mountains in the middle of nowhere. SO doesn't that sound great? Let's meander through the woods alone and at night for hours and hours and HOURS on end! Next thing you know you're signing up for 50 milers, then you're buying head lamps to wear in the middle of the night to run 100 milers, then you're scheduling your entire life around the next 12 hour run you can fit in. It's a slippery slope, my friends!!
Being married to an ultra-runner is a funny thing. For several months of the year, our lives revolve around Chris's running schedule. Training for ultras means a full day of running. Saturdays are out for months at a time. In the end I don't mind really. Races are often held in beautiful scenic locations and in the end I know all the training will turn into a cool camping trip come race time. But I know more about runners that I'd ever hoped. I know about their gear, their lingo, the top names in the industry. It's a pretty addictive lifestyle. And the people you meet!! Most couples you meet consist of co-athletes. They met in the running scene, they run together, train together, crew each other's races.
And then there's me. Yes, I look like I should be a runner. I'm tall, I have long scrawny legs, I'm relatively thin. So people come up to meet asking what I'M training for. Naive fools. I should just start lying about it. "Right, I ran the Mountain Masochist 50 milers in 8 hours last year, it was CRAZY!" But instead I just say, "No, I don't run. But I can swim for a really really long time!!!!" I mean I used to run. I used to love running. But what am I going to say? "Yes, I used to be a pretty good runner. I was running 6-8 miles a day at one point. But then I got Lyme's disease and my entire body, especially the joints, went to shit, had open heart surgery progressing it into further shit, but hey, I'm starting to get better and my knees can almost tolerate a whole one mile run now!!" Right. I'd rather crawl into a hole and hide.
So instead I am just the outcast. The problem with the ultra community is that anyone who isn't a runner is seen as a primadonna of sorts. This greatly pisses me off. I don't not run because I'm lazy. I would love to run, I just can't yet. I don't know that my knees will ever really appreciate me taking on something like that again. I'd like to think so, but I can't really say.
In any event, Chris was supposed to be running the North Face Endurance Challenge today. It's a 50 miler run by Dean Karnazes (THE name in ultras- duuuuh) which is pretty damn cool. It's held at Bear Mountain, which is where Chris trains. Home turf. It was going to be awesome. The trails there are SICK to run on and out of towners have no idea what they are in for. It was rated 5/5 in technical terrain, 5/5 in overall challenge, and 4/5 in elevation difficulty. But my poor guy got injured. This was a little bit like someone ripping his heart out. So instead, he's volunteering. He got up at 1:00 this morning to get to Bear Mountain for 2:00am so he could run/walk (being that he is injured) the first 10.5 miles of the 50 miler to make sure it was marked correctly, cracking glowsticks along the way. As luck would have it, it was raining all night and morning, the fog is so thick you can't see 2 feet forward, and my guy was out there in the middle of the damn woods all night in these conditions. Head lamp or not, I would have an all out panic attack in about 30 seconds in conditions like that. Hell just in the DARK I'd probably die. I won't even take the dog out to my backyard in the dark!!!! I'm terrified. But anyway, I heard from him and while it was a very slow pace, he finished the job. Now he'll stay there all day manning an aid station.
Perhaps he'll snap a picture with Dean when he runs by. :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Calming Sounds
In honor of the fact that the buggies are out in full force, I am posting a blog I've had up on my myspace for awhile...
Ok, if you want to hear one of my favorite sounds in the whole wide world, go to this link and this link and hit "play" on the little players simultaneously. It completely makes me forget about anything that may be troubling me. I love it.
Ok, if you want to hear one of my favorite sounds in the whole wide world, go to this link and this link and hit "play" on the little players simultaneously. It completely makes me forget about anything that may be troubling me. I love it.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Wheezy, Sneezy, and Hack
Well, surprise surprise. After my whole immunity blog, it's no wonder that I am super sick right now. This only feeds into my delusional OCD that states anything I think or write down (or type) before it happens will no longer happen (I refused to mark my wedding date on my calendar), or anything I think or write down (or type) that's good will immediately go bad. The reason I chalk this one up to the OCD is that I know it's completely irrational and makes absolutely no sense. But yet the paranoia remains. In making this blog I was hoping to be over and done with that bit too. So no, I'm not going to go and stop blogging or feed into it further. Just saying, a bit ironic, no???
Sunday, April 6, 2008
SPF
It was supposed to be overcast this weekend. Turns out Saturday was gorgeous. I know with the way I've been feeling, a little sunshine is just about the best medicine I could ask for. Kate and Jim were visiting so we decided to sit outside for a little bit.
I'm talking a LITTLE bit. I'm not sure if it's a commentary on my body's failing defenses or our planet's failing layer of ozone, but for me to sit outside on a 55 degree day in April for an hour and end up burnt like toast...is somewhat disturbing. Now I have a totally ridiculous tan line on my chest from my shirt, which will make it totally ridiculous to wear anything that dips down a little in the front (at least until the burn fades) and my arms are bright red. Thankfully I use face moisturizer with SPF or I'd probably be burnt to a crisp there too. But I am a bit shocked! I used to get tan instantly and never burn. Then all of a sudden I just started getting lots of freckles. But now? I go outside for an hour on a not that warm day in April and I'm burnt to a crisp?! The weird part is, it doesn't hurt at all. It just LOOKS totally ridiculous.
Note to self: should probably make an appointment with a dermatologist to check out the notable increase in freckles, sunburns and the like!
I'm talking a LITTLE bit. I'm not sure if it's a commentary on my body's failing defenses or our planet's failing layer of ozone, but for me to sit outside on a 55 degree day in April for an hour and end up burnt like toast...is somewhat disturbing. Now I have a totally ridiculous tan line on my chest from my shirt, which will make it totally ridiculous to wear anything that dips down a little in the front (at least until the burn fades) and my arms are bright red. Thankfully I use face moisturizer with SPF or I'd probably be burnt to a crisp there too. But I am a bit shocked! I used to get tan instantly and never burn. Then all of a sudden I just started getting lots of freckles. But now? I go outside for an hour on a not that warm day in April and I'm burnt to a crisp?! The weird part is, it doesn't hurt at all. It just LOOKS totally ridiculous.
Note to self: should probably make an appointment with a dermatologist to check out the notable increase in freckles, sunburns and the like!
Friday, April 4, 2008
Googleable
Feeling a little better today, for the record.
So I found out that my blog here is googleable. As in, if you type in my name, it pops up. I promptly turned off that feature as while this is not some super secret blog...it's meant to be public...I also don't need to make it quite so easily accessible to people such as:
-parents of the kids I work with
-creepy psycho ex-boyfriends
-people that made my head want to explode and hence have no need for them to bust in on my personal life
Most specifically though, I'd say parents of the kids I work with most. The last thing I need is them coming to me stating I can't see their kid because they don't agree with something I wrote in my blog. Typically, I am not apologetic about my views. They are my views and I'm entitled to them. And so knowing I would not be willing to apologize for them makes me less willing to make them known to the parents. I don't need to be getting into political and philosophical debates at work. And as much as I love that, I simpy don't have the time.
I know you probably think this is nuts. Why would a parent google their occupational therapist? Well, parents are nuts these days and think everyone is out to harm their child. So with the resources we have, I have a feeling I've been googled more than once. But then you might ask, what parent would really take something like a blog to heart? I'm very good at what I do in the sense that I will go above and beyond to help in every way possible. So wouldn't that be enough?
You'd think so.
I love the kids I work with. Mostly, I love their families too. But in some weird way several of them have said the most bizarre insulting things to me. And not about my treatment or my professionalism or what I do with the kids. But all about me PERSONALLY. I'll compile a short list here to give you an idea of what I'm dealing with. The following things have been said to me by parents of the kids I work with:
-*looks me up and down* So I guess you don't ever eat, huh?
-Why don't you get a nose job? You might look pretty.
-It must be nice to be able to go to work looking like a total mess (um, I roll around on mats with kids all day. I don't particularly plan on wearing my power suit and pumps)
-You sort of look like Hillary Swank. She's got those big teeth and bony jaw and all that too.
-(in a disgusted tone) Why don't you start wearing makeup?
So needless to say, they pick apart my appearance to no end and shoot my (already shitty) self esteem into the crapper faster than I can say boo. Perhaps you can understand why inviting them into my personal and social life would only fuel their fire further. For this reason, I am no longer allowing people to google me and find my blog. The end.
So I found out that my blog here is googleable. As in, if you type in my name, it pops up. I promptly turned off that feature as while this is not some super secret blog...it's meant to be public...I also don't need to make it quite so easily accessible to people such as:
-parents of the kids I work with
-creepy psycho ex-boyfriends
-people that made my head want to explode and hence have no need for them to bust in on my personal life
Most specifically though, I'd say parents of the kids I work with most. The last thing I need is them coming to me stating I can't see their kid because they don't agree with something I wrote in my blog. Typically, I am not apologetic about my views. They are my views and I'm entitled to them. And so knowing I would not be willing to apologize for them makes me less willing to make them known to the parents. I don't need to be getting into political and philosophical debates at work. And as much as I love that, I simpy don't have the time.
I know you probably think this is nuts. Why would a parent google their occupational therapist? Well, parents are nuts these days and think everyone is out to harm their child. So with the resources we have, I have a feeling I've been googled more than once. But then you might ask, what parent would really take something like a blog to heart? I'm very good at what I do in the sense that I will go above and beyond to help in every way possible. So wouldn't that be enough?
You'd think so.
I love the kids I work with. Mostly, I love their families too. But in some weird way several of them have said the most bizarre insulting things to me. And not about my treatment or my professionalism or what I do with the kids. But all about me PERSONALLY. I'll compile a short list here to give you an idea of what I'm dealing with. The following things have been said to me by parents of the kids I work with:
-*looks me up and down* So I guess you don't ever eat, huh?
-Why don't you get a nose job? You might look pretty.
-It must be nice to be able to go to work looking like a total mess (um, I roll around on mats with kids all day. I don't particularly plan on wearing my power suit and pumps)
-You sort of look like Hillary Swank. She's got those big teeth and bony jaw and all that too.
-(in a disgusted tone) Why don't you start wearing makeup?
So needless to say, they pick apart my appearance to no end and shoot my (already shitty) self esteem into the crapper faster than I can say boo. Perhaps you can understand why inviting them into my personal and social life would only fuel their fire further. For this reason, I am no longer allowing people to google me and find my blog. The end.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Rough Patches
All good things and good times have rough patches. I'd like to be done with them. I know this isn't always that easy. Woke up today assured I would be feeling better than the past few days but the minute I sat down I felt that weight again. Just an all around heaviness that creeps up on me from time to time. I'm still remaining determined to fight it off.
Two nights ago I heard the crickets outside. Crickets are a good sign. I love the sound of crickets, cicadas, katydids- the sounds of summer. Nothing else could make me happier. I think all I'll need is a night or two with the crickets and this might pass. I wanted to go away in April...somewhere warm and sunny. I need some sun. But things are just too expensive right now. I'm still spending over $1000 a month on uncovered healthcare costs. I just imagine sometimes how much easier life could be if I didn't have to pay for all of this shit. I could certainly use that extra $1000 for things like... my mortgage. But I don't like to look at it that way. For me, that $1000 is more important than just about anything else. Though it does still suck. Hard.
To be honest, as much as I love my psychiatrist, I'd really like to be done with all of that. I want to separate myself from it. I know on some level I still need him, but part of me needs to know I can do this on my own. Part of me needs to say "I'll call you when I need you again" and hope that time is never. Sure I'm in a rough patch now, but it's about 1/3 of what my rough patches have been in the past. I'm still eating. I'm still sleeping. I'm still going to work. I haven't stopped functioning. I just feel that heaviness. I feel exanimate. I feel completely disconnected. But I'm doing what I have to do. I know I'm sort of contradicting myself from previous posts, but as far as professional help like psychiatry, I just want to do it on my own for awhile.
I mean..when is someone finally going to tell me, "You're going to be okay, Lorraine." I feel like I've been waiting to hear that for years...
Two nights ago I heard the crickets outside. Crickets are a good sign. I love the sound of crickets, cicadas, katydids- the sounds of summer. Nothing else could make me happier. I think all I'll need is a night or two with the crickets and this might pass. I wanted to go away in April...somewhere warm and sunny. I need some sun. But things are just too expensive right now. I'm still spending over $1000 a month on uncovered healthcare costs. I just imagine sometimes how much easier life could be if I didn't have to pay for all of this shit. I could certainly use that extra $1000 for things like... my mortgage. But I don't like to look at it that way. For me, that $1000 is more important than just about anything else. Though it does still suck. Hard.
To be honest, as much as I love my psychiatrist, I'd really like to be done with all of that. I want to separate myself from it. I know on some level I still need him, but part of me needs to know I can do this on my own. Part of me needs to say "I'll call you when I need you again" and hope that time is never. Sure I'm in a rough patch now, but it's about 1/3 of what my rough patches have been in the past. I'm still eating. I'm still sleeping. I'm still going to work. I haven't stopped functioning. I just feel that heaviness. I feel exanimate. I feel completely disconnected. But I'm doing what I have to do. I know I'm sort of contradicting myself from previous posts, but as far as professional help like psychiatry, I just want to do it on my own for awhile.
I mean..when is someone finally going to tell me, "You're going to be okay, Lorraine." I feel like I've been waiting to hear that for years...
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Zoned
I've had an all around disturbing day. I've been on planet Lorraine and I have not been able to get my shit together. I feel like my brain has been drinking antifreeze. I was driving home from my PT appointment and I was absolutely starving as I realized I had not eaten all day. I was driving my dad's car today because he needed mine, and he typically has some snackies hiding out. I found a little mini Twix bar so of course I ate it. Not sure what I did, but I was still completely zoned and probably even more so after my session as I think I was reacting to it by zoning more...and something went down the wrong pipe. I started wheezing at first but then my throat actually closed up and I couldn't breathe anymore. I was at a red light with a few other cars and for a moment I started to get out of the car thinking well, I guess I'll be needing some help. But then I paused. Maybe just maybe for too long. The sentiment actually going through my head, if I am completely honest, was...
"...finally."
Then just as suddenly as it started, I was back to wheezing and could breathe fine again. I took my hand off the handle and kept driving.
So...what does one make of all that exactly?
*sigh*
"...finally."
Then just as suddenly as it started, I was back to wheezing and could breathe fine again. I took my hand off the handle and kept driving.
So...what does one make of all that exactly?
*sigh*
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Peter Fedofsky
My cousin is so much cooler than your cousin. Being that I am an NPR junkie and I love my cousins, the fact that he was on NPR for his music might just be too much awesome for one girl to handle!!! Please listen to the song that's linked to the story. It's all him. As I've stated before, he kicks ass.
Peter on NPR!!!!
Amazing!
Peter on NPR!!!!
Amazing!
Signs of a Faltering Economy- The Diner
Listen, you certainly don't need me or my blog to tell you that the economy is going to hell. I contemplate daily whether or not I have organs to spare so I can sell them and pay for things like gas, groceries, you know...the little things.
Reading the Times is bad enough as far as all the horrible outlooks for our economy these days. But it's when I see signs in my day to day life of the failing economy that I really start to worry.
I've noticed a few changes. For starters, the bridge is significantly less crowded during rush hour. I rarely sit in traffic anymore. I'd like to say that this is due to everyone "going green" and that they're all just carpooling or taking the bus. But the fact is, I realize it's due to either A) everyone being unemployed...hence no need to commute for rush hour!! or B) everyone is carpooling because no one can AFFORD to commute anymore thanks to completely insane gas prices. Other changes? The parking lot in the mall near my house is practically empty. The sushi restaurant I used to go to on Friday nights used to have a line out the door. Even with reservations it was a fight to get in. Now I say USED to go to because I myself have had to cut sushi out of my life because I can't afford it. And it seems like no one else can either. We went for an "occasion" a few weeks ago and the place was completely empty on a Friday night.
But the biggest sign of the recession I have seen thus far????
The New City Diner.
Now listen. You might not get it if you've never seen it. This diner. It's not just any diner. It's THE diner. The owner of this diner, whose name is far too long for me to ever type, spell, or even pronounce, has thus far insisted on doing everything BIG! From the decor to the food, it's all to the nines. They don't just buy ONE ceramic vase, they buy 16 of them. They like that porcelain duck they saw? Suddenly there are 36 of them in various corners of the diner. My friend and I go there just to see if we can spot what new strange thing the owner has decided to buy in mass quantity and shove in there. (I swear there is hardly room to walk or eat). And when it comes to portions, you'd swear they were genetically engineering vegetables in their backyards. I'm talking lettuce leaves the size of my head, carrots as long as my arm, crazy shit you can't imagine. And every plate, three times larger than it needs to be, garnished with at least 10 crazy vegetables carved, shaved, and carefully placed in some crazy decoration.
But all of this? It's no more. Sure, the diner is still there. It's still full of weird crap. But when I ordered my meal...there was no crazy garnish. The lettuce? It was shredded!! The pickle? Hardly as big as my pinky finger. Now did I ever NEED any of these things or any of them to be so obscenely large? Absolutely not!! But when I see the recession hitting the diner...the BELOVED New City Diner...well shit. That's just a little too much for me to handle...
On another note, I just did my taxes. I, a hardly middle class person married to a veteran...owe almost $2000 in taxes. So tell me again how republicans save your average middle class person money?? Oh right. They don't. Turns out I wasn't RICH enough for Bush's tax cuts this year. Instead I owe money when I can hardly make ends meet for the new mortgage I'm about to have.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. These are some scary times. If you've got half a brain, can do a little math, and are completely outraged, please get yourself informed. It's time for the conservative right to go hide in some dark corner ashamed of themselves for what they've done.
Obama'08
.
Reading the Times is bad enough as far as all the horrible outlooks for our economy these days. But it's when I see signs in my day to day life of the failing economy that I really start to worry.
I've noticed a few changes. For starters, the bridge is significantly less crowded during rush hour. I rarely sit in traffic anymore. I'd like to say that this is due to everyone "going green" and that they're all just carpooling or taking the bus. But the fact is, I realize it's due to either A) everyone being unemployed...hence no need to commute for rush hour!! or B) everyone is carpooling because no one can AFFORD to commute anymore thanks to completely insane gas prices. Other changes? The parking lot in the mall near my house is practically empty. The sushi restaurant I used to go to on Friday nights used to have a line out the door. Even with reservations it was a fight to get in. Now I say USED to go to because I myself have had to cut sushi out of my life because I can't afford it. And it seems like no one else can either. We went for an "occasion" a few weeks ago and the place was completely empty on a Friday night.
But the biggest sign of the recession I have seen thus far????
The New City Diner.
Now listen. You might not get it if you've never seen it. This diner. It's not just any diner. It's THE diner. The owner of this diner, whose name is far too long for me to ever type, spell, or even pronounce, has thus far insisted on doing everything BIG! From the decor to the food, it's all to the nines. They don't just buy ONE ceramic vase, they buy 16 of them. They like that porcelain duck they saw? Suddenly there are 36 of them in various corners of the diner. My friend and I go there just to see if we can spot what new strange thing the owner has decided to buy in mass quantity and shove in there. (I swear there is hardly room to walk or eat). And when it comes to portions, you'd swear they were genetically engineering vegetables in their backyards. I'm talking lettuce leaves the size of my head, carrots as long as my arm, crazy shit you can't imagine. And every plate, three times larger than it needs to be, garnished with at least 10 crazy vegetables carved, shaved, and carefully placed in some crazy decoration.
But all of this? It's no more. Sure, the diner is still there. It's still full of weird crap. But when I ordered my meal...there was no crazy garnish. The lettuce? It was shredded!! The pickle? Hardly as big as my pinky finger. Now did I ever NEED any of these things or any of them to be so obscenely large? Absolutely not!! But when I see the recession hitting the diner...the BELOVED New City Diner...well shit. That's just a little too much for me to handle...
On another note, I just did my taxes. I, a hardly middle class person married to a veteran...owe almost $2000 in taxes. So tell me again how republicans save your average middle class person money?? Oh right. They don't. Turns out I wasn't RICH enough for Bush's tax cuts this year. Instead I owe money when I can hardly make ends meet for the new mortgage I'm about to have.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. These are some scary times. If you've got half a brain, can do a little math, and are completely outraged, please get yourself informed. It's time for the conservative right to go hide in some dark corner ashamed of themselves for what they've done.
Obama'08
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
