Saturday, January 12, 2013
Smart & Mobile
This is my first post written completely on a mobile device (in this case, Adam's smart phone). It's proving to be more painful than exciting, unfortunately. However, seeing as how I am in a very warm, very germy hotel room with a sick husband and cranky-but-now-thankfully-napping 3-year old, I'll take what I can get. Wow, this thing wont even let me start a new paragraph...novelty has definitely worn off. I've spent the better part of this afternoon reading obituaries (does this girl know how to ride out a weekend or what?!). I've been catching up on all the newspapers and magazines I haven't found time to read in the last couple weeks, so now I'm tackling the 'end of 2012' stuff. The Washington Post magazine devoted its entire copy to notable DC Metro residents who died last year. none of them were famous, but they certainly had lives well-lived. It'a gotten me to thinking...maybe I'm going about things all wrong. Instead of waiting for a job to come my way (because it feels like I'm going to be waiting a long time), maybe it's time I create my own destiny. I don't know what that means yet(or,for that matter,how to do it), but I'm getting tired and frustrated by rhe lack of opportukity rifht now. I think I need to make my own. I guess I dont want my obit to read 'She hoped really hard but never fulfilled her dreams or potential.' How sad. I also hope they don't use a bad picture of me. That's almost sadder. It's like, do a girl a solid at the very end, and at least make me look good, ok? It's not everyday a gal gets into the newspaper. So...to be continued..perhaps I might just shock the pants off us all and do something great..
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Hail and Farewell
It is customary in the military to have a "hail and farewell" event to welcome in new members to the unit, and to bid adieu to those who are leaving. The military is all about its customs, at which I usually inwardly smirk. But sometimes customs and tradition aren't so bad, I suppose.
So, I welcome 2013 with open arms, a sense of purpose and determination, and with preliminary thanks for the learning experiences that are sure to come. My previous self would have said, "Bring it!" with an eye for daring, danger and thrills that might be lurking in the future months. My current motherly self, instead, flinches unconsciously as I contemplate all the many bad things that this new year could bring to our family. I try hard to focus on the positives, but the reality of the world can be so negative that it's hard not to live with some fear from time to time.
And...Farewell, my friend Ruth. I learned yesterday that a dear friend, Ruth Affleck, died after a long and difficult battle with pancreatic cancer. She was a beautiful woman, a real lady's lady, with long, thick white hair that she always had done up in barrettes. She owned an alpaca farm and spun the wool into yarn. She was an amazing knitter and had such a great accent, being that she was from New Zealand and Australia...yup, a little bit of both. Ruth had returned to school at a later age and received her degree in bookkeeping, and had decided to plug on for another degree right before being diagnosed with cancer. She was not just the average "special person" people talk about when someone has died. Ruth was rugged, soft, funny, serious, talented and average. She was exactly the friend you'd want to have in the room during a winter's night spent knitting over tea. And she loved her cats. That was her, too. I see and hear her so vividly in my mind right now; that gives me comfort that she'll never be far from memory. We'll miss you, Ruth.
Time to start up with my winter knitting again. Sometimes customs aren't so bad, I suppose.
So, I welcome 2013 with open arms, a sense of purpose and determination, and with preliminary thanks for the learning experiences that are sure to come. My previous self would have said, "Bring it!" with an eye for daring, danger and thrills that might be lurking in the future months. My current motherly self, instead, flinches unconsciously as I contemplate all the many bad things that this new year could bring to our family. I try hard to focus on the positives, but the reality of the world can be so negative that it's hard not to live with some fear from time to time.
And...Farewell, my friend Ruth. I learned yesterday that a dear friend, Ruth Affleck, died after a long and difficult battle with pancreatic cancer. She was a beautiful woman, a real lady's lady, with long, thick white hair that she always had done up in barrettes. She owned an alpaca farm and spun the wool into yarn. She was an amazing knitter and had such a great accent, being that she was from New Zealand and Australia...yup, a little bit of both. Ruth had returned to school at a later age and received her degree in bookkeeping, and had decided to plug on for another degree right before being diagnosed with cancer. She was not just the average "special person" people talk about when someone has died. Ruth was rugged, soft, funny, serious, talented and average. She was exactly the friend you'd want to have in the room during a winter's night spent knitting over tea. And she loved her cats. That was her, too. I see and hear her so vividly in my mind right now; that gives me comfort that she'll never be far from memory. We'll miss you, Ruth.
Time to start up with my winter knitting again. Sometimes customs aren't so bad, I suppose.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Left Meets Right
I'm facing a political struggle. I'm fairly vocal about my political beliefs and don't have a whole lot of issue arguing with others who are vocal about their own (different) political opinions. In fact, I think it's good fun.
....however...
Now we've moved to the political hotspot of our nation, and while Virginia turned blue during the election (thank goodness), most of my old friends and a few family members are quite conservative. To a fault. If I'm diving into the Pacific, they are backstroking in the Atlantic. Back in Michigan, I had little problem sparring with various friends who had differing political beliefs (although there were only a few, as most folks I knew there were quite liberal).
But being here is different. And this political climate is different. Conservatives, Republicans, Tea Party-ers...they actually seem to HATE our President rather than just disagree with him. There is an animosity, a vitriole that I never saw exhibited toward Clinton. And it gets my hackles up. So I get fired up and want to debate. Especially when I see really poorly-thought-out, misleading and misinformed posts by people on Facebook. Normally I engage, but these days I've been holding back. As Adam has put it, "You live here now. You have to find a way to get along with everyone, which probably means putting your political dialogue by the wayside." That's not exactly normal for me--keeping my thoughts to myself (hahaha)--but I suspect he might be right.
So, for now, I'm keeping mum, keeping calm. But this leftie is still steaming inside.
....however...
Now we've moved to the political hotspot of our nation, and while Virginia turned blue during the election (thank goodness), most of my old friends and a few family members are quite conservative. To a fault. If I'm diving into the Pacific, they are backstroking in the Atlantic. Back in Michigan, I had little problem sparring with various friends who had differing political beliefs (although there were only a few, as most folks I knew there were quite liberal).
But being here is different. And this political climate is different. Conservatives, Republicans, Tea Party-ers...they actually seem to HATE our President rather than just disagree with him. There is an animosity, a vitriole that I never saw exhibited toward Clinton. And it gets my hackles up. So I get fired up and want to debate. Especially when I see really poorly-thought-out, misleading and misinformed posts by people on Facebook. Normally I engage, but these days I've been holding back. As Adam has put it, "You live here now. You have to find a way to get along with everyone, which probably means putting your political dialogue by the wayside." That's not exactly normal for me--keeping my thoughts to myself (hahaha)--but I suspect he might be right.
So, for now, I'm keeping mum, keeping calm. But this leftie is still steaming inside.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
It's Been So Long I Almost Forgot My Password
Not really, but I was nervous for a minute there.
Not that I expect that anyone really reads this blog, but my humble apologies for keeping my non-existent audience waiting for the past month and change. We packed up our Michigan selves and made the twelve-plus hour trip to parts southeast-ward, finally settling in our new abode in Virginia, my old stomping ground from 15+ years ago. As Adam has finally gotten me to admit, I have mixed feelings about this move...happiness to have our family back together under one, permanent roof; and to be close to both sets of relatives; and to have moved somewhere thriving with possibilities for all of us...sadness to be away from friends, community and employment I had in Michigan.
You give, you take.
But things are good here for the most part. We have great wildlife in our backyard--a red fox, an amazing songbird community, a Northern Harrier, and (supposedly, though we haven't seen them yet) eagles and deer. Great viewing for this unemployed wildlife biologist!
B is overjoyed to have her dad back in her life on a daily basis, and the feeling is mutual. Now she's gotten so used to him being around (and being a short walk from his office) that she gets annoyed when he doesn't come home for lunch. I'm grateful life has suddenly gotten so easy for her, considering how much she's dealt with the last few years.
I'm typing now while Ads is trying to sleep, so I'll sign off for now and write more tomorrow. Tomorrow we get our Christmas tree so perhaps I'll have some pix to post.
Back before another month passes by...
Not that I expect that anyone really reads this blog, but my humble apologies for keeping my non-existent audience waiting for the past month and change. We packed up our Michigan selves and made the twelve-plus hour trip to parts southeast-ward, finally settling in our new abode in Virginia, my old stomping ground from 15+ years ago. As Adam has finally gotten me to admit, I have mixed feelings about this move...happiness to have our family back together under one, permanent roof; and to be close to both sets of relatives; and to have moved somewhere thriving with possibilities for all of us...sadness to be away from friends, community and employment I had in Michigan.
You give, you take.
But things are good here for the most part. We have great wildlife in our backyard--a red fox, an amazing songbird community, a Northern Harrier, and (supposedly, though we haven't seen them yet) eagles and deer. Great viewing for this unemployed wildlife biologist!
B is overjoyed to have her dad back in her life on a daily basis, and the feeling is mutual. Now she's gotten so used to him being around (and being a short walk from his office) that she gets annoyed when he doesn't come home for lunch. I'm grateful life has suddenly gotten so easy for her, considering how much she's dealt with the last few years.
I'm typing now while Ads is trying to sleep, so I'll sign off for now and write more tomorrow. Tomorrow we get our Christmas tree so perhaps I'll have some pix to post.
Back before another month passes by...
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Movin' On East
Our Move, by the numbers:
6 more days of work left
5 different good-bye lunches and 1 farewell party
12 more days here in the place that has been our home for the last 10 years
Countless friends and memories to carry in my heart
Zero tears shed as we say good-bye
One big fat lie (see above)
6 more days of work left
5 different good-bye lunches and 1 farewell party
12 more days here in the place that has been our home for the last 10 years
Countless friends and memories to carry in my heart
Zero tears shed as we say good-bye
One big fat lie (see above)
In Sickness and In Health
Two weeks ago, I did the unthinkable--I ate a cookie.
Such a simple and benign act turned into two weeks of gastrointestinal hell. But, let me start from the beginning.
One Tuesday evening, after a filling dinner, I treated Bryony and myself to our sometimes-treat of two sandwich creme cookies. My preference is for the Newman's Own brand, because their products are organic with easy-to-pronounce ingredients. Newman's Own uses plain old sugar, rather than some kind of high-processed corn syrup that will one day result in my growing another leg. But, I digress. That night, I ate a peanut butter sandwich cookie, while Bryony stuck to her usual Oreo-style vanilla creme chocolate sandwich cookies. It wasn't until she was in bed and I was working on the computer some three hours later that I started to feel uncomfortable. At first, it was just gas, which I cast off as indigestion. But, by the time I went to bed, I was in full-fledged abdominal pain, complete with cramping, bloating, gas, and chills. I rocked in bed, moaning and groaning, for the better part of the night.
By the time Wednesday morning arrived, my stomach felt mildly better, but I was extremely tired from lack of sleep, and dragged my way through the day. Eventually my coworkers sent me home from work halfway through the day because they said I was starting to turn "green." I came home and slept for several hours before I had to pick up Bryony from school. I woke up from the nap feeling refreshed and much better. I wrote off the stomach cramps as just a 24-hour bug, and proceeded to carry on with the evening. At some point, I got a phone call from the local grocery store (they have an automated computer call you) informing me that the Newman's Own Peanut Butter sandwich cookies I'd purchased had been recalled due to the salmonella outbreak. Ahhhh, I thought. Now it all made sense. But wasn't I so lucky to have only suffered from the food poisoning for one day? Then I ordered spicy tacos from the food truck at the Farmers Market. Big mistake. Big. Huge.
Wednesday night was (as my brother would say) the mad beast. If I had thought Tuesday night was awful, Wednesday night put me on a whole different playing field. I got zero sleep due to the almost unmanageable cramping, and I finally ended up behind the computer, postin gupdates about my condition to Facebook friends who happen to be up and looking at their newsreel at 6am. Then I e-mailed my supervisor to tell her I would not be in that day. I let Bryony sleep in, and after taking her to school, I came home and slept all day long, with NPR speaking soothingly to me as I napped.
And so it went. Friday I woke up feeling somewhat better so I went to work for a half day, then went home to rest. By Friday night I was a mess once more, and Saturday wasn't much better. Sunday, however, found me feeling almost back to my normal self, which was encouraging for a number of reasons, the least of which was the absence of pain. Since I'd been sick, I'd been unable to eat much beyond the BRAT (Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet; in fact, I couldn't bear the smell of food, which meant that Bryony wasn't eating much beyond BRAT, either. I felt so bad for her. Even worse, however, was my general lack of energy and ability to truly be her mother. I felt like I was basically a zombie for three straight days, letting her watch movies endlessly just so I could sleep uninterrupted on the couch. Even she seemed to get cabin fever, and the dogs got so restless they ended up in two fights in one day. It was a difficult weekend.
I went back to work on Monday, and life seemed normal again. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday...all good. Then, I woke up on Saturday feeling...not...quite...right. All I wanted to do was lie in my bed and send Bryony off to be parented by jolly elves, but alas, we had a pancake breakfast fundraiser to attend, so away we had to go. I felt miserable at the restaurant, hungry for food, but nauseous at the smell. Someone pushed coffee my way, which usually I would have chugged at 9:00am, but instead sat untouched that morning. We went home afterward, and I became Zombie Mum once more, lying sick on the couch while Bryony was allowed to watch countless movies. How could this have returned??? It felt unreal, and yet, there it was. Sunday, I cancelled plans with a friend because I felt so ill, then ended up feeling better mid-day so I rescheduled our meetup. I was sure I was on the mend, but by Sunday night I was sicker than I'd been throughout this entire ordeal--migraine so bad I couldn't open my eyes to look at my daughter, abdominal cramps, bloating, diarrhea, chills, fever. I put Adam on the phone as I crawled into bed next to Bryony, and somewhere in the recesses of my pounding brain, I had the thought that this was how I was going to die. The thought was heartbreaking because I couldn't bear the idea of Bryony waking up next to her dead mother in the morning. Somewhere in the course of belaboring this, I fell asleep.
And then, just like that, it was over. I went to the doctor because it seemed a good idea to get some tests run, just in case. They all (blood and stool analysis) came back free and clear of any problems. That was simultaneously relieving and frustrating. Surely something was wrong with me...right?
And so now I'm on the other side of it all, back to the "health" part of the vow. Adam's pretty darn lucky he wasn't around for the "in sickness" part this time. He might not have wanted to wait around for the "health" part to show up.
Such a simple and benign act turned into two weeks of gastrointestinal hell. But, let me start from the beginning.
One Tuesday evening, after a filling dinner, I treated Bryony and myself to our sometimes-treat of two sandwich creme cookies. My preference is for the Newman's Own brand, because their products are organic with easy-to-pronounce ingredients. Newman's Own uses plain old sugar, rather than some kind of high-processed corn syrup that will one day result in my growing another leg. But, I digress. That night, I ate a peanut butter sandwich cookie, while Bryony stuck to her usual Oreo-style vanilla creme chocolate sandwich cookies. It wasn't until she was in bed and I was working on the computer some three hours later that I started to feel uncomfortable. At first, it was just gas, which I cast off as indigestion. But, by the time I went to bed, I was in full-fledged abdominal pain, complete with cramping, bloating, gas, and chills. I rocked in bed, moaning and groaning, for the better part of the night.
By the time Wednesday morning arrived, my stomach felt mildly better, but I was extremely tired from lack of sleep, and dragged my way through the day. Eventually my coworkers sent me home from work halfway through the day because they said I was starting to turn "green." I came home and slept for several hours before I had to pick up Bryony from school. I woke up from the nap feeling refreshed and much better. I wrote off the stomach cramps as just a 24-hour bug, and proceeded to carry on with the evening. At some point, I got a phone call from the local grocery store (they have an automated computer call you) informing me that the Newman's Own Peanut Butter sandwich cookies I'd purchased had been recalled due to the salmonella outbreak. Ahhhh, I thought. Now it all made sense. But wasn't I so lucky to have only suffered from the food poisoning for one day? Then I ordered spicy tacos from the food truck at the Farmers Market. Big mistake. Big. Huge.
Wednesday night was (as my brother would say) the mad beast. If I had thought Tuesday night was awful, Wednesday night put me on a whole different playing field. I got zero sleep due to the almost unmanageable cramping, and I finally ended up behind the computer, postin gupdates about my condition to Facebook friends who happen to be up and looking at their newsreel at 6am. Then I e-mailed my supervisor to tell her I would not be in that day. I let Bryony sleep in, and after taking her to school, I came home and slept all day long, with NPR speaking soothingly to me as I napped.
And so it went. Friday I woke up feeling somewhat better so I went to work for a half day, then went home to rest. By Friday night I was a mess once more, and Saturday wasn't much better. Sunday, however, found me feeling almost back to my normal self, which was encouraging for a number of reasons, the least of which was the absence of pain. Since I'd been sick, I'd been unable to eat much beyond the BRAT (Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet; in fact, I couldn't bear the smell of food, which meant that Bryony wasn't eating much beyond BRAT, either. I felt so bad for her. Even worse, however, was my general lack of energy and ability to truly be her mother. I felt like I was basically a zombie for three straight days, letting her watch movies endlessly just so I could sleep uninterrupted on the couch. Even she seemed to get cabin fever, and the dogs got so restless they ended up in two fights in one day. It was a difficult weekend.
I went back to work on Monday, and life seemed normal again. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday...all good. Then, I woke up on Saturday feeling...not...quite...right. All I wanted to do was lie in my bed and send Bryony off to be parented by jolly elves, but alas, we had a pancake breakfast fundraiser to attend, so away we had to go. I felt miserable at the restaurant, hungry for food, but nauseous at the smell. Someone pushed coffee my way, which usually I would have chugged at 9:00am, but instead sat untouched that morning. We went home afterward, and I became Zombie Mum once more, lying sick on the couch while Bryony was allowed to watch countless movies. How could this have returned??? It felt unreal, and yet, there it was. Sunday, I cancelled plans with a friend because I felt so ill, then ended up feeling better mid-day so I rescheduled our meetup. I was sure I was on the mend, but by Sunday night I was sicker than I'd been throughout this entire ordeal--migraine so bad I couldn't open my eyes to look at my daughter, abdominal cramps, bloating, diarrhea, chills, fever. I put Adam on the phone as I crawled into bed next to Bryony, and somewhere in the recesses of my pounding brain, I had the thought that this was how I was going to die. The thought was heartbreaking because I couldn't bear the idea of Bryony waking up next to her dead mother in the morning. Somewhere in the course of belaboring this, I fell asleep.
And then, just like that, it was over. I went to the doctor because it seemed a good idea to get some tests run, just in case. They all (blood and stool analysis) came back free and clear of any problems. That was simultaneously relieving and frustrating. Surely something was wrong with me...right?
And so now I'm on the other side of it all, back to the "health" part of the vow. Adam's pretty darn lucky he wasn't around for the "in sickness" part this time. He might not have wanted to wait around for the "health" part to show up.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Erie and Au Sable
We got dogs! Probably not the smartest choice in light of an upcoming move and my current "single mother, full-time employee" status, but despite the challenges and sometimes frustration, we are very happy and excited about our new family members.
"Dina" was a 2-year old yellow lab I had been checking out on the county animal control's website for several days, pitching the idea to Adam (who, from a distance, kinda sorta melted...). I took Bryony to the shelter to meet her and she captured both our hearts, so we put a reservation on her. Adam came in the following weekend to move our household goods back to the new house in Virginia. As we were driving from the airport straight to the shelter to pick up "Dina," he suggested we consider adopting a second dog to keep her company. I was caught off-guard, but thought, "Well, why not?" So once at the shelter, he noticed "Meha" a little 5-month old black lab mix. We took both dogs out of their crates for a meet-and-greet and they played well together. It was a done deal.
Bryony was thrilled when we showed up at school that afternoon, not only with Dad in the car, but with two BIG surprises. The look on her face was priceless.
Life with two dogs has been chaotic, surprising, frustrating, but even more, fulfilling. I especially enjoy having quiet time in the evenings with them, as well as the lunchtime walks when I leave work to come home and walk them. I don't enjoy the process of housebreaking, however.
We renamed the dogs a couple days after adoption. It was important to me to name them after pieces of Michigan, since we would be leaving this state that has been our home for a decade. After much trial and error, we finally landed on Erie (the yellow lab, formerly Dina) and Au Sable (the black lab mix, formerly Meha). They already come to their new names just a month after becoming part of our family.
The cats are not as happy as we are about this new normal, but we are trying to coax them into acceptance. We also have baby gates erected around the house so the cats have some room of their own, separate from the overly-curious dogs.
So, Erie and Au Sable. Welcome home.
"Dina" was a 2-year old yellow lab I had been checking out on the county animal control's website for several days, pitching the idea to Adam (who, from a distance, kinda sorta melted...). I took Bryony to the shelter to meet her and she captured both our hearts, so we put a reservation on her. Adam came in the following weekend to move our household goods back to the new house in Virginia. As we were driving from the airport straight to the shelter to pick up "Dina," he suggested we consider adopting a second dog to keep her company. I was caught off-guard, but thought, "Well, why not?" So once at the shelter, he noticed "Meha" a little 5-month old black lab mix. We took both dogs out of their crates for a meet-and-greet and they played well together. It was a done deal.
Bryony was thrilled when we showed up at school that afternoon, not only with Dad in the car, but with two BIG surprises. The look on her face was priceless.
Life with two dogs has been chaotic, surprising, frustrating, but even more, fulfilling. I especially enjoy having quiet time in the evenings with them, as well as the lunchtime walks when I leave work to come home and walk them. I don't enjoy the process of housebreaking, however.
We renamed the dogs a couple days after adoption. It was important to me to name them after pieces of Michigan, since we would be leaving this state that has been our home for a decade. After much trial and error, we finally landed on Erie (the yellow lab, formerly Dina) and Au Sable (the black lab mix, formerly Meha). They already come to their new names just a month after becoming part of our family.
The cats are not as happy as we are about this new normal, but we are trying to coax them into acceptance. We also have baby gates erected around the house so the cats have some room of their own, separate from the overly-curious dogs.
So, Erie and Au Sable. Welcome home.
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