Running in Flip Flops

"Life is not about weathering the storm, but learning how to dance in the rain"

2011-07-08T19:39:00.004-04:00

I mentioned the artwork on the walls at St Jude Children's Research Hospital, and how it touches your core. I saw this quote on a girl, let's call her Maria's artwork, and it just seemed to sum the day up.
We climbed on the bus and headed to the hospital for the second day of volunteering. This day was our big day, crafts in the morning and a performance at lunch. I had been schooled on gimp by the kids, and was practicing my way to early arthritis.
We entered the hospital and went right to the assigned areas. Tables were set up, overhead announcements were made. The kids and their parents started coming over, ready to do crafts with the "kids" on the team. Some had masks on,some had hats on, some didn't speak English, some didn't feel like speaking at all. Some where wheeled over to us in their red wagons, and some pulled their siblings along behind them. Even though some didn't feel so great, they came over and brightened up our time there.
We were gimping along until and a brother and sister bounded up to the table. We'll call them Rick and Carla, not their real names, but their endless energy made us immediately smile. Their parents in tow, Rick and Carla settled into their seats and immediately started to gimp.
"I want these colors" Rick said to me, picking out orange and blue. I started to get them ready, but he and Carla decided that this type of gimping was far too laborious and the gimp would be better used to tie up Steve to his chair. The roll of gimp (blue of course) rolled around and around one way, while the roll of orange gimp went the other. Steve was snugly tied to his chair, while passerby patients and their families laughed. Carla had been hoarding princess stickers from her blood draws and decided that Steve would look much better with each princess tattooed on his head.
"What time is the show?" Rick and Carla's mom asked. She wanted to call the oncology clinic to let them know Carla would be late. She really wanted to see the show.
It was time for the performance team to go on, and as we moved the tables and chairs and set up the folding chairs, we noticed Rick and Carla up with the kids on the team. They were teaching them some "moves" and they were both picking them up pretty quickly. Rick and Carla's mom and dad were in the back, watching their children interact with the team. The chairs filled up, and the music started. Rick and Carla stayed with the team, mimicking their moves a beat behind. They were not going to sit down. I looked back and saw their mom crying a bit, possibly happiness at the moment of normalcy afforded her children. The performance concluded, just as one girl in a wheelchair came up and asked if they could do it again, she wanted to see it.
"Of course" Sherri said.
Again the music started, the crowd didn't move from their chairs. I noticed that there were several parents glancing at their watches, and then something weird happened. The oncologists and oncology nurses started to gather around, realizing that the children were not at their appointments, they were watching the kids dance. Rick and Carla's oncologist came out, with a big smile watching her two friends dance, and gave them a wave. Carla ran over and gave her a big hug, the doctor hugged her back, but encouraged her back up to dance with the performance team.
"Go dance!" Carla's oncologist encouraged.
"Do they take dance classes?" We asked their father.
"No, but I think they should!" he answered, laughing.
The last song came on, and the kids came up and joined in with the team. Some in wheelchairs just moving back and forth, some bouncing up and down. All were smiling, all, for that moment, were not just weathering the storm, but learning how to dance in the rain.

Memories of St. Jude

2011-07-08T19:00:00.002-04:00

I didn't want to go. It sounded like a great idea in February, and I signed up, got the time off, bought the plane tickets and mentally prepared for the trip. Or so I thought.
In reality, there is no mentally preparing for this trip, and I was scared. Scared I would cry, scared that all the healthcare training in the world wasn't going to suppress any visceral emotion expressed when seeing a sick child. I used to be strong, then I became a mom. Now I cry when they do the routine with my son to put the heart in the just stuffed Build a Bear.
It wasn't that I didn't want to go and volunteer, taking advantage of an amazing opportunity,I was just scared. We arrived on a Wednesday afternoon, our first day of volunteering would start on Thursday.
Memphis was hot, humid and green. Some streets were alive,some vacant, alternating well kept yards with abandoned housing. A confusing landscape. I had lived in Nashville, but I didn't understand this city. It had the laid back southern charm, wafting aroma of spicy BBQ sauce emanating from the opening and closing restaurant doors, and a wide variety of the cobblers I never do see up north.
I was exhausted, and crashed fairly early that night with my four new room mates. None had fur and a heavy sleep apnea snore that jolted me awake nightly like the usual four legged cover-hoggers I bunk with, but they did tell me I snored, loudly. I was mortified.
After rushed shower, crappy in room coffee, and climbing into my St Jude Performance Team uniform, we met for breakfast Thursday morning before heading to the hospital in the shuttle bus. I mentally reviewed the guidelines for visiting the hospital, and reminded myself how to be respectful of the culture they have created. We were all pretty quiet on the bus, some nervous chatter here and there, but overall this new experience was overwhelming.
I saw the hospital as we turned the corner. There it was, St Jude Children's Research Hospital. We went through the gates and to the front entrance where we were met by the public affairs coordinator and official photographer to take our group picture before going in. We were led in, single file. I was afraid to look anywhere, but when I did, I was met by smiles. Everyone smiled kindly. That probably sounds strange, to describe a smile, but it was the first word that came to my mind. Everyone that worked there didn't fake their smile, they weren't patronizing, they weren't Disney-happy, they were kind. We toured the buildings, learned even more about this amazing place, rubbed the nose of the statue of Danny Thomas, and did the first of several performances to a handful of children and a lot of employees.
The walls at St Jude are adorned. Seasons surrounding the children in wall murals. We saw the artwork of the children who had been patients at St Jude, some amazing talent. We saw the ABC's of cancer, some made us laugh, some made us marvel at the strength that a child can have, and some made us choke back tears. I know I came home that night completely exhausted, more emotionally than physically. I knew, at that point, the experience was completely worth it.

I have

2010-06-27T09:45:00.002-04:00

have been an elevator that smelled like the inside of a gerbil cage

I have found a memorial picture of someone who died young, on the ground in a parking lot. I put him on a mailbox and hoped he was found.

gone into the wrong office, but did the interview anyway.

had a doctor's dog vomit on my suit jacket. I shouldn't have picked her up.

eaten supermarket sushi in my car, it wasn't too bad!

not blind cc'd anyone on an email since I left that other wretched place!

worked the morning in my pajamas and taken a shower during my lunch break.

Just gotten lost once and awhile, even though I had my GPS.

Sworn that my GPS is insane sometimes

The hand sanitzer

2010-06-27T09:23:00.003-04:00

Entering into a physician's office to visit, and encourage them to use your services can be a daunting task. Competition amongst hospitals for similar services can sometimes lead to people being rude. You just have to roll with it.
This office was located in a building with many other offices, all on my visit list. Yes, you guessed it, the sheer concentration of offices meant it was affiliated with a hospital, and not the one I was representing. I have to confess, opening all the doors to these offices sometimes makes your hands feel like they literally have a glove on, a glove of germs, disease and dirt. It is a bit gross.
I walked in to one of the offices, and caught the attention of the office manager. I also noticed a nice big plastic container of hand sanitizer.
'Sweet' I thought. 'I can clean my hands'
I briefly chatted about my services, provided our brochure and asked, "Do you mind if I use your hand sanitizer"
"Go right ahead!" She answered.
Apparently, when the dispenser is not properly cleaned, hand sanitizer forms a crust around the edge. These deposits of hard hand sanitizer, can drastically change the direction of the product once pumped. Who knew? Not me!
I pressed down on the hand sanitizer, hoping for a good amount, and it came out, skyward, not even giving me a chance to duck. It sprayed directly into my hair. I had a huge blob of hand sanitizer in my hair.
The office manager looked at me, handed me a kleenex and burst out laughing. I started laughing too, I mean, what else could I do? I tried to expertly dab the hand sanitizer off with the kleenex, and snuck out of the office.

Working from home...

2009-03-28T20:05:00.002-04:00

Working from home, seemingly a situation anyone would envy, does have its challenges. Nothing I could have forseen, but definately something I didn't think through.
Fortified and reasonably peppy on Friday morning by my recently curb-acquired leather desk chair, I looked forward to the day of paperwork ahead. My husband not in bed was not unusual, as he normally went for a run or to the gym in the morning. However, my normal morning routine seemed amiss, specifically the lack of coffee he so kindly brings me in the morning. Ambling in, disheveled and a bit green, he stated,
"I'm not going to work."
"Whats up?" I asked. Knowing my son had come home sick after vomiting a few days before.
"I feel nauseous, have been up all night".
I suspected the worst. I would have to get my own coffee.
After driving my son to school, I began delving into the paperwork sitting in my comfy new chair. Unfortunately, I didn't stay in one place very long, the phone rang and I had to go out to an account and straighten things out. Following several impromptu meetings, I made my way back home. Not hearing much from my husband was encouraging, seems he was sleeping the nasty virus off.
Again, the phone rang, My boss.
"How did it go today?" She asked
"Fine, I met with the one doctor and.." I trailed off, hearing loudly from two rooms away, "blllleeeeaaaack" My husband vomiting violently.
I ignored it. Maybe she didn't hear it.
"I think the next step will be" I continued
"BBBLLLEEEEEAAAACCCK" again. More vomiting. Did she hear?
"Ummm." she intervened. "Is that your husband.... Vomiting?" She asked.
Paralyzed with the uniqueness of the situation. Not sure how to handle this, because if I were in the office, my vomiting husband would certainly not be there with me. Not sure if I should go check on him, or continue with this conversation.
"Yeah, I think so. You can hear that? He is three rooms away." My best effort.
"EEEWWWWW, I think I am going to get sick."
Fabulous. We continued the conversation as my husband discontinued the vomiting.
Later that evening, sitting on the couch, feeling a little better, he said,
"I think I grossed your boss out. That was pretty bad."
'Yeah' I thought, 'it was".

That fine line

2009-01-19T07:22:00.005-05:00

"There is, in fact, a fine line between having fun and being disciplined," I thought, sitting in the rather uncomfortable black metal chairs tucked against the periwinkle blue walls of the Karate studio.
We arrived at the conclusion that Karate would be a good sport for our five year old to teach discipline, patience and good character. Baseball,after all, didn't start until the spring.
Karate seemed like a good fit after an unfortunate trip to the principals office. We were called for a parent, principal, teacher meeting to discuss the pattern of behavior over last two weeks.
It was raining, it was November, and my husband and I were awaiting our scheduled meeting. 8:20, A time that made sense only in school systems and hospitals, that would "give us time to grab a cup of coffee after drop off." Apparently, other parents can eat at times such as this.
"In all my years of school, I NEVER went to the principals office." I yelled into the back seat of the car over the soundtrack of High School Musical 1.
My husband drove quietly toward the school.
I worried that he could get "kicked out" of Kindergarten. Was that even possible?
I thought back to the incidents stemmed from circumstances relating to that fine line.
"Why did you stand on top of the art table?" I had asked.
"To be funny, I was trying to be funny" he insisted. That was strike one.
Of course, he got the reaction from his peers, and the attention of the principal, whom he had a "chat with" and apparently enjoyed.
"Why did you push the girl in your class." I asked.
"She was in my way, and I got to go to the principals office." He answered candidly.
Hmmm. 'Got to go to the principals office' wasn't in my vocabulary at that age.
Strike three, well, I won't go into the details, but it involved a pencil and an arm that was apparently, 'in his way'.
It was 8:20 and we sunk into the armed chairs next to the glass-fronted beverage fridge stuffed with Red Bull.
"What is going on?" his teacher asked, seemingly as shocked at the radical behavior change as we were.
Back and forth, we discussed home life, school life, during which time the principal was quiet, weighing the situation.
"I think" he finally said, "his behavior is related to the attention he gets, positive or negative."
And we flipped it upside down. Attention for positive, not so much for negative, which worked.
I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair at Karate, where my son was randomly falling down and not getting into formation quickly enough. The teacher was joking with him, unknowingly goading him on. I tried to avoid the hostile stare of one woman whose much younger son had perfected attentiveness, intimating that my son was disrupting class.
He was.
I thought about that fine line between having fun, and needing to be disciplined. How do you discuss that with a five year old? Because frankly, like the rest of us, he is still finding his way.

Could You?

2008-09-11T07:49:00.003-04:00

"Could you ever go without sugar?" my patient asked me intently, "For the rest of your life?"
Reflecting on my disappointment that my poptart for breakfast was without frosting, and thinking about the tropical fruit skittles in my drawer, I wasn't sure how to answer. After all, the session was about her, not me.
Waiting through an awkward silence that didn't seem to go away, I finally answered.
"I guess not."
She sat back, happy with herself that she elicited the answer and it wasn't so far from her own truth.
Squirming uncomfortably in my chair, I glanced nervously at the diet coke. I hoped she wouldn't notice.

Transition

2008-09-04T20:45:00.003-04:00

Transitioning from Daycare to Kindergarten for parents is like walking the tightrope without a net. Daycare was always there, except for the random staff development day typically associated with a three day weekend, normally easily planned. Many mistake the emotional lability with the reality that your child is growing up. My take on it, however, is that I am emotionally labile, tearful in fact, because I now have to navigate things like 'early release' and a "full day" that begins at 8:15 and ends at 2:20. Hardly enough time for me to practically "get" to work. On top of all these, we now must deal with things like voting days, oddly celebrated holidays, and vacations when it is so freakin cold going anywhere is essentially insane. For stay at home moms, I would love to believe the tears are actually those of joy, as I did stay home for a bit and enjoyed my personal time. Kindergarten starts tommorrow, but my transition week can be marked by a few related events.

Social skills development:
Going to the same beach over the last few years has afforded us the opportunity to meet some new friends. Oddly enough, one that is in my son's kindergarten class. He greeted his new friend, Lizzie, by spitting out his grape juice and acting like a complete goofball. Though he didnt impress Lizzie, her two year old sister was dually impressed. We didn't see much of the family after that encounter.

Fashion forward (or backward):
Preparing for the first impression at the new school(for me, not him!) was at the forefront of my mind. So much so, I carefully coordinated my red and white T shirt, Red Crocs and white shorts. Looking in the mirror to dry my hair I noticed my shoulder looked slighly odd. Looking more closely I realized that I had my shirt on inside out. Luckily, I had on "invisible" deoderant.

The frustration of Information gathering:
We entered school for Kindergarten testing, I was ushered to a small table and chairs, provided with a large folder of paperwork, and confronted by Miss Abby who would be testing my son. I rapidly explained his hearing loss in one of his ears, but didnt have time to relate his udder confusion between a "skip" and a "gallop". I proceeded to fill out the same card with the same information three times, and provided the same information on other sheets of paper. Another mother, entering in after me, remarked to the teacher, "there was less paperwork for graduate school!"
Trying to remember who my third back up emergency contact was, as well as our dentists phone number, I paused and skeptically thought, "I get it,you went to grad school."

The awkwardness of Good Bye
He missed the last day of school because a high fever and cold, which he has since generously shared with all of the family. We did promise he could return to daycare and say goodbye,thinking closure would be good for him, but I didn't think of how I would react. We entered daycare, and he hugged his teachers, went right to the play yard and blended in with his friends, holding court on the top of the slide. The director asked him if he would work there as a teenager, and after careful debate as to whether it would affect his budding career as a chemist, he accepted the position. I stood against the wall, hugging his teachers, saying thanks, and blubbering like a baby. After all, I was never good at goodbye, better at just walking away and not dealing. I attempted to put on my sun glasses but tears sneaked out from under. I amused myself watching Jasmine pour a bucket of sand over Charlie, and Theo manically grabbing the fence and crying, and 'the girls' near the fence ostracize or criticize another girl for trying to climb the fence, apparently a pre school faux pas. When it was time to go, he tried to blend into the line for lunch and I lured him with (of all things) a Dunkin Donut's personal pizza.
We turned around and walked out, as he happily waved good bye.

Label everything
I sit here looking at a back pack, picked out months ago, packed and ready for tommorrow. It's stuffed with items like clorox wipes, tissues, an art smock, and a shoe box with colored markers and pencils. We spent most of the night labeling it carefully. I am sure this is the last I will see of them, and come vacation, I will be back at Target scouring the racks for replacements. As hard as we try not to, we give everything a label from the beginning.

I just pray that tommorrow, he will be that well behaved kid I see, and the principal won't need that yellow card for his speed dial.

Car Porn

2008-08-09T20:28:00.003-04:00

Driving around is a major part of my job, one that I have wrestled with from time to time. Sitting behind the wheel feels a bit different than sitting in the cube on the computer or answering phones. To combat the sometimes long drives and the tedious shorter drives, I have begun listening to books on tape. My new multi-tasking has enabled me to drive, listen to something intelligent, all while being able to still see the sights along the way.
I recently noticed a curious sight, mainly on pick-up trucks, sometimes SUVs. I noticed that these vehicles now have testicles hanging off the back of the trailer hitch. At first, I thought it might be some sort of apparatus that helped hook up a boat or trailer. After seeing several variations, I realized I was viewing down and dirty car porn. The mid-life crisis has evolved from a sports car to the mascularization of the pick-up truck.
I thought about it for a moment and contemplated a push-up bra for my head lights. I think it has already been done.

Email addresses for kids

2008-07-16T07:38:00.002-04:00

Knowing that kids are normally pretty absorbant sponges, it should have dawned on us that the time we spend on email has not gone unnoticed. Driving home from school the other day, my husband got the penultimate question.
"Dad, what is email?" Our son asked from the back seat.
"Well," he explained. "Email is how you can communicate with people by typing them letters on the computer. Mom and Dad have an email address and maybe some day you can have one."
"What is our email address?" he curiously asked.
After telling him our email, which includes our last name and a random number assigned by the email gods from comcast (or verizon or msn-it was 10 years ago!~)he said, "Maybe someday you will have your own email address, it could be your name at comcast.net"
Thoughtfully he answered. "I know what I want my email to be" he said. "I want it to be hotlove at comcast.net"
Hot love? Not sure where that came from. He answered.
"Now, that would be pretty irresponsible of me"

You know you are married almost 10 years when...

2008-06-30T08:42:00.003-04:00

Sunday morning brought on a few challenges. The evening before,we had put the first coat of linen onto the walls of ugly green in the dining room. The initial transformation was spectacular, but the trim, still being a celery green, just didnt look right to me. I thought about it, I even slept on it, but it wasn't working and I knew it would bother me. I decided to get dressed early and head off to Home Depot for a new color for the trim.
I got up and started getting dressed, the TV behind me.
I caught my husband looking at me.
"Hey, whats up?" convinced I was looking hot despite the linen white paint in my hair.
"Umm, can you move, you are in the way of the TV and it looks like the sox had a no hitter last night' He answered.
That is how I know I have been married almost 10 years!

It's situational

2008-06-27T21:23:00.003-04:00

The one drawback about trying to do the right thing most of the time is the effort you must expend. I have a friend who is flawless at remembering birthdays, who gets cards and gifts, and her talents lie in making unique appetizers and/or cakes for parties or general malady. I am not that person. Occasionally, I can muster up the wherewithall to send a card, but have done so by purchasing two boxes of all occasion cards from the Christmas tree shop. There isn't a birthday, get well or death I am not prepared for.
If my crockpot is game, I sometimes can make a dish of meat to bring over to those who have added or lost a loved one. Though this tactic has often left me perplexed as to whether or not to include a side dish, where exactly does the gesture stop?
My musings lead me to my current situation, our lovely neighbor passed away. Now, being the considerate person she was, she passed away on Monday, and her service was on friday, giving me ample time to prepare something. Though it seemed like ample time, I found myself driving home thursday afternoon without a plan in mind, nor a crockpot meal worthy of cooking in a timely fashion.
"I saw Sheila bring over a casserole last night." My husband teased on the car ride hom.
"No, really?" She didn't bring a casserole but she later admitted she has also been thinking about it for the past week.
Entering the kitchen when I arrived home, without changing, I dove into preparation. Noting I had several eggs in stock, a cake mix and the can of frosting, I rationalized that something was clearly better than nothing. I pre-heated the oven, mixed and poured. My son helped frost and decorate.
My husband walked into the kitchen. "Do you really think Funfetti cupcakes relay the message, 'sorry for your loss'?"
I hesitated for a minute, wrote a nice card and we brought the 12 cupcakes over.
Coming home today, after the service, the son waved.
"thanks for the cupcakes!" He yelled across the street. "The kids loved them"
It warmed me to know that funfetti cake mix can translate to any occasion.

Retro Post-my porsche 911

2008-06-27T06:59:00.004-04:00

The party I missed went well.
"One of the Doctors pulled up in his new Porsche!" the hostess revealed.
"Was it a 911?" I asked
"I don't really know, what do they look like?" she questioned.
As I started to describe a 911, she looked at me quizzically.
"I only ask because I had a 911 once. I won it in a raffle" Which really brought to mind a better story than the one at hand. I wasn't leaving the conversation without full disclosure.
Before I got married, I got a call from my friend Deb in NJ.
"Hey, do you want to buy raffle tickets for a porsche 911. Jack Daniels Porsche donated one for the school raffle"
Not having any kids, thinking a raffle ticket was probably 10 bucks, I said, "Sure, will do."
"Okay, each ticket is 100.00" Crap. Well, I still had a separate checking account so I could probably swing it.
"Meet my husband at the halloween hockey tournement and he will give it to you."
I trekked down to Marlborough and saw the hockey game. We completely forgot to exchange money for the ticket. Feeling like I escaped a speeding bullet, I remained quiet, but fate wouldn't let me remain ticket-less.
She called again. "Just mail me the check and I will mail you the ticket"
The day I wrote the check, I went over my friend Ann Marie's house to visit with her mom. We sat on the deck, it was a warm day. As we were talking, Ladybugs would land on my arm, on the table, and generally seemed to be attracted to me.
'Its okay, ladybugs are good luck' I thought.
I mailed the check. I got the ticket.
Fast forward to the week before our wedding, the day of the raffle. December 4 we had the final meeting with the caterer at the hotel and were in the back seat of my mothers Buick Century or my fathers Pontiac Bonneville like two twelve year olds. My parents buy the same car every few years.
"It's almost 11a and they are going to call my name!" I said.
"What are you talking about?" My mom turned back and asked.
"The car raffle!" I said. "I am going to win a porsche!"
My mother mumbled something about positive thinking, conversations with God, or my ensuing insanity, and we all turned to the task at hand.
As we were going through seating, vegetarians, and general table numbers, my future and now mother in law called.
"My mom fell in the driveway and hurt her ankle." my husband said. Not a good sign the week before our wedding. She wanted to see how it developed and would call us back if she needed anything.
We finished up and headed to my parents house. I mentioned I wanted to go to the mall to get some things. We hopped in the car and headed toward the mall, but were stopped by another phone call about my mother in law's ankle.
"Not looking good, she wants to go to the emergency room" He said.
"Well, I need to go to the mall so lets go back to Malden and get my car"
Getting into the elevator, that was probably the slowest elevator in exsistence, we remembered the porsche drawing.
"hey, who do you think won?" my then future husband asked.
"Probably some rich family that already has one" I said.
Entering the apartment, the answering machine boasted 10 messages. "What the heck is going on?" I said. "we were gone for 3 hours!"
We started playing them.
"Naaaaattttt. you have to call us." my friend Deb said.
next message. Her husband. More urgent. "Nat, CAll us, you are never going to believe it!"
My parents called, possibly the 6th message. "Where are you. We are going to the mall to look for you."
I called Deb. We won the porsche. All 80K of it! We were jumping up and down, screaming, happy that we could now buy a house without a problem.
The phone rang. My mother in law concerned about her ankle. We totally forgot.
He got in the car (his mazda-slumming it now!) and drove his mom to the emergency room. He called me.
"Hey, what year is the car, a 99 or 2000?" He asked
"Where are you?" I asked.
"At the porsche dealership in Burlington."
"What did you do with your mother?" I asked
"I just dropped her off at the emergency room entrance and told her to call me when she was ready to be picked up" He said.
I probably should have been concerned, but was too excited.
I won a porsche!

Newsflash: Husband Makes Dinner!

2008-06-25T21:58:00.003-04:00

It's late, I am probably punchy, but I came home,grumpy because I am missing a party, exhausted from the endless repetitive questions, and a ray of moonlight brightened my otherwise darkened day. Dinner was made!
I know! Single girls, married girls, girls in a relationship--Envious! No cereal and milk for me tonite. Life is good.
"What's for dinner?" I asked coming into the house unloading my bags.
"Pizza! I used the dough you got and made home made pizza" he answered. "I put some on a plate for you. Its really good."
Excited, I grabbed a blue-juice-like drink (only thing available) and went for the pizza.
"I didn't even use tomato sauce," He offered, "I used diced tomato."
I knew I was in for a treat.
I looked down, there were some pale pink meat-like shreds on the pizza. They weren't the diced tomatoes.
The dog was jumping on me as I was heading toward the fridge for food. A treat would assuage her. Looking in the drawer, an entire pound of bologna had mysteriously disappeared.
"Is that..... bologna on the pizza" I asked, hestitantly.

Mystery solved.

My Life as a Foriegn Dignitary

2008-06-25T06:33:00.004-04:00

Some jobs provide an element of surprise on a daily basis, others are fairly status quo. Knowing that I require a challenge or otherwise get bored, I work in an area where pretty much anything can happen on any given day. Many of you are probably thinking along the lines of ER or Gray's Anatomy, you know, the drama. The reality is not as sexy or dramatic, but still mentally challenging. Hosting for the day two visitors from Korea was this years culmination of surprises (though the resignation of bobblehead did bring me both surprise and innate joy--meeow!)
The days events started off benignly enough. An email asking I spend time with the bariatric staff from Korea, talk to them about our program.
Having a son from Korea, I thought this to be a great opportunity. "No problem, looking forward to it!" I emailed back adeptly.
The email followed up about a week later, stating they had, in fact, arrived and they would be in clinic tommorrow. The rudimentary outline of the day included the morning with the surgeon in clinic and to "spend time with the dietitian in the afternoon."
The day started off rather chaotic, as 5 MBA-suits and the Director of the program usurped my conference room when I left to use the ladies room.
'My bladder is definately impeding my career" I thought, looking for the coordinator. If you are wondering, MBA-suits are clearly different from MD suits in the total look. MD-suits are a less, pressed or sharp (fierce!) look because they are taking their clothes on and off in transition to scrubs. Knowing these guys were likely important, the coordinator let me christen her newly constructed office,that smelled suspiciously of new rug.
After finally getting settled back in my appropriated spot, there was a knock on the door. A knock can only mean trouble, whether it be a new patient, an MD with a request, or someone trying to deliver food (and yes, that happens upstairs too-and I wonder if it is only a hazard for dietitians working with the morbidly obese).
One of the surgeons poked his head in.
"Hi, Umm, here is the person from Korea" he stuttered. Looking at the clock away from my patient, I noted it was about 10a and therefore only the 'afternoon' in Liverpool England or Rome, Italy, neither places we were currently inhabiting.
"Hi" I said extending my hand.
"Hello" nod, bow. I nod, bowed back, hopefully appropriately.
"you can sit right here" I pointed to a chair on the right. Heading to the left, she sat down at the other side of the table.
Hmm. It wasnt looking too good. I assumed they spoke English, but realized they spoke English about the same as I spoke Spanish. I had a baaadd feeling.
We started off seeing patients. I tried to speak slowly, I tried to say the same thing over in a different way so she could understand.
My patient looked at me quizzically, as if I had a stroke, but seemed kind enough not to say anything. After she left, we had a no-show and I went over some things with the dietitian from Korea.
We talked about (I think) what the diet is for pre op. She asked about protein shakes, if they were commercial. We fashioned a protein shake that wasn't commercial because protein shakes aren't big in Korea.
Another knock on the door. Surgeon poking his head in.
"Um, here is the other" he scurried out. It was about 11a and I noted again, this isnt the afternoon, somehow this situation screamed 'dump!'.
We had a patient who kindly let the two women sit in. They whispered in korean. I handed out diet education to all. Finally it was lunch.
Perplexed at the eating situation, and knowing that my lean cuisine was in the freezer, I tried to figure out what to do.
"We can eat lunch now" I said.
"We stay here?" she asked. "We see more patients?"
"No, we go to eat. We see more patients at a different place, another office."
"Oh." they nodded.
We all stared blankly at each other. Okay, I'll have lunch with them.
"Lets eat lunch." I stated. I wanted to be sure that I wasnt taking them from a pre-planned, not communicated meal. I Walked over to the surgeon in the other office.
"I was going to take them to lunch" I said, "but I am not sure, am I suppose to pay?"
Thinking of the 5 dollars in my wallet.
"I don't know, Ask the doctor who arranged this" he answered. Who, by the way, was probably in Omaha for the day for all I knew.
I suggested some places to eat.
"the cafeteria" they said in unison. We stood outside the crowded, ill-planned cafeteria reading the menu.
"They have Beef stew" I said. They looked at me quizzically. Great. How does one describe beef stew. "They have Ruebens." I dont even know what is in a freakin rueben, nor how to correctly spell it.
"PIZZA!" they stated. Thankfully, they liked American pizza.
"I will meet you here" I pointed.
"you come, eat pizza." They said. Oh boy.
"I will go to get a sandwich, and I will meet you in a seat."
"You not come here?"
arrgh.
I finally broke away, got a sandwich and found them sitting down next to an older gentleman and a gaggle of MD interns.
"They from Korea?" the older man asked.
"Yes, they are visiting here" I answered. He turned to them,
"I was in Korea in the war. Beautiful country but not so beautiful when I was there,pretty screwed up. Where are you from"
"Seoul" they answered.
"I was in ...." Not sure how to translate this, I focused on my tomato-less sandwich and hoped it all went well.
We proceeded down to my office, where my patient was waiting. A patient who was, lets say, a little outgoing. We brought her in the office-which was a 8 by 10 space and all three of us crowded in. Though in a wheel chair, she was bubbly, vivacious, yet nervous about the surgery, chattering a mile a minute.
She rubbed one of the women's arms. "Oh, your skin is so soft!" she said. Not sure if this was a cultural insult, I sat tight.
"So, are you checking your blood sugar?" I asked
"NO, I AM A MORON!" she said. She turned to them, "DO you know what a moron is?"
they nodded no in unison.
"It is someone who is stupid, stupid stupid!"
Oh crap. We are now teaching the nice Korean visitors rude American slang.
They looked stunned. Not sure if Moron was a swear word.
She went on to ask questions about them. They chatted with her respectfully. Somehow I got the diet education in and wheeled her outside where transport was picking her up.
It was 4p at this point, and they looked tired. "You need a break!" and they left for their hotel for a few hours until the evening program.
They met up with me that night, they gave me presents. Lots of Korean presents. THey took my picture, they were happy.
I went home that night, exhausted. My son was waiting.
"Hey, look!" I gave him the gorgeous Korean wrapped presents to open. He opened a mirror with a silk pouch, a keychain and a special book mark from the Korean Diabetes Association.
"WOW!" he exclaimed. "Can I bring them in for show and tell?"
"Sure, but you have to say they are from Korea. Mommy had two visitors from Korea and she told them all about you."
"Mom, do they miss me over there?" he asked.
Like the rest of the day, not a question I could easily answer.

My soap box: The call of the Cheese Ball

2008-06-23T16:36:00.004-04:00

As noted in previous posts, I am the point person for all dietitian emails for my group. Emails come from patients who may have seen other dietitians recently, or from those not seen in a long, long time. Though I normally don't mind a question here, or a question there, once and awhile, I get a doozy.
To clarify, it is a doozy not because of the question but because of the struggle. Many think the surgery is an easy way out, you just have to have the surgery and all is solved. The brain, I always warn the pre-ops, is the force to be reckoned with, not necessarily the hunger itself.

Dear Dietitian:
I am three weeks post op and I would like to know if canteloupe is safe and/or ok in stage 3, and if it's ok
to have one of those 100 calorie snacks such as triscuits and if pepper or
light BBQ sauces are ok on chicken
sincerely
lap band patient

I replied...

Dear Lap band patient:
nothing crunchy like triscuits three weeks post op. I would hold on canteloupe until stage 4. You
can certainly use lite BBQ sauce on chicken
Sincerely
Dietitian
to be followed up with...

ok, thank you so no triscuits. can i do the 100 calorie cheese puffs?.. not so hard or crunchy

I replied:

Dear lap band patient
Cheese balls have very low nutrient density and are not on the stage three plan.
Sincerely
Dietitian

My focus on the texture of the diet stage clearly led to a junk food rationalization. Like Pizza and diet coke, our brains have the power to lead us down the calorie laden path.

Musings of a house wife..

2008-06-22T20:19:00.002-04:00

Having worked the major medical center heath fair today, I'm not feeling very creative. My major responsibility was to say, "Do you have your form all filled out? Any questions? Okay, stand here in line"
I do have some issues I might like to ruminate on, for a few minutes.
This weekend, really hasn't been very productive. Walking around my house tonite, I noted that it just wasn't my weekend to clean the house. I only noticed this because there was a hazardous juice-spill mid living room when my son attempted to drink a huggie through a medicine syringe. A habit he attributes to wanting to be a chemist, but worries me that it may lead to other "choice" occupations. I had to fire up the mop at 8pm, mopping is usually reserved for mid-morning. I wondered if others required a full day to clean their house. I also wonder how the inside of the refrigerator where the door closes gets dirty, It isn't even a shelf.
Looking around my house, I wondered if other house wives who work are living fabulous lives with clean houses and kids that don't throw rocks at their classmates. Am I just not spinning it appropriately?
Is there some work/life balance I am missing? If you know the whereabouts of this holy grail, please let me know.
I will be otherwise perplexed.

My Dog got stuck

2008-06-19T20:21:00.002-04:00

Most dog owners brag at the phenomenal accomplishments of their pooches. Mine, not so much. Love the dog dearly, but I think she lost a few brain cells somewhere. Looking out the window this morning, I noticed her walking along the wall, between the edge and the picket fence that was skirting it. She couldn't just walk away, because she had to walk the equivelent of a balance beam to get the the stairs where she got on.
"Oh no!" I stopped playing on face book and stood up, looking nervously out the window. I was careful not to call her name because she would probably jump off.
I noticed she was looking down, comtemplating if she could jump down.
I willed her to walk forward. She stood still, paralyzed by fear, or confusion. Mostly confusion.
I ran to get my crocs and threw on some shorts to go out to help her.
She barked, confused as to how she got stuck.
I got her off the ledge. Rescued her because she couldn't walk forward.
Brilliant.

Flirtation in the Pimped out Honda

2008-06-19T19:56:00.004-04:00

Mulling over the status quo in suburbia, thinking all was the same day to day, my views were unexpectedly skewed this morning. I was flirted with today driving into work despite the carseat in the back.
Driving into work today was navigating through a sea of green algea run amok, given that it was The Boston Celtics Victory Parade/Rolling Rally. I wasnt sure which I dreaded more, working the later shift, or driving in to work. It seems that everyone was making their way into the city by any means to celebrate and my Honda Civic was caught in the crossfire. I must confess,being in a Festive mood this morning I did wear a green shirt, to blend I suppose.
I cruised in using mostly back roads, listening to my latest 'book on CD' by Robin Cook, "Marker". The droning voice with little inflection had me drifting off when I hit Sullivan Square. Adeptly, I merged into the oncoming lane and stopped for the light. A light tan van pulled up next to me and I turned my head to look over, I wasnt sure why. A curly-haired man looked over, waved and winked.
'me?' I looked quizzically over at him, like he must have been having some sort of cerebral incident. I got nervous, turned my head back and concentrated deeply on the steering wheel, my first thought was
'Shit, I need to dust this freakin car.'
I looked in my rear view, made sure the car seat sat prounounced in the back, and looked again.
He was in a mini van, maybe he was a family guy?
Intrigued that a random person would flirt with me, despite their possible mental instability, I brought it up to my husband.
"I got flirted with" I said to him.
"I'm not surprised." He said. Hmm. nice. still attractive to him after all these years.
"really, wow!" I answered. "Why do you say that?" fishing for compliments.
"You have those pimped out seat covers in your Honda" he said.
Apparently the covers I put on my seat to avoid the perils of Mom-hood such as dog-barf, after school snacks, and early morning coffee spills seem to serve as an aphrodesiac for middle aged gold mini-van drivers.

Go figure!

Two kids in a car

2008-06-15T08:25:00.002-04:00

Watching your child grow up is obvious, but the less obvious is listening to your child grow up. We don't think so much about the more subtle intellectual developments that occur, unless we really listen. As a parent, it is often easier to tune out, especially when your child has someone else to entertain him, and the onus is off you. Driving home from a rather successful play date at an indoor playground, I had the opportunity to listen to the boys carry on a conversation with each other, and hear it evolve.
"Hey" My son said to his friend, "your pen lights up on the end"
"yeah, it does. My dad got it for me so I can look in people's mouths"
"How does it light up?" my son asks.
"You just press the button on the end and the light goes on." his friend said.
Thinking this is a good opportunity to intervene and teach, I started to say something.
"Hey..." but I was interrupted by the intensity of their fascination with the pen/light.
"It has a light bulb on the end, thats how it lights up!" my son said.
"It could use electricity like the telephones" My son's friend said, getting at the source of the light.
"It could have a battery!" my son said.
"No" his friend said,"It could use the wind, like when I blow it makes it go"
Proudly, I listened to two five year olds carry on a conversation about energy. They could have been discussing the next nobel prize, for all I cared, they both intelligently discussed something. My pride was quickly replaced by, well, I dont know what.
"Superman has a special power when he blows he can knock people over and fight crime" My friend's son said.
"I saw superman at my school!" my son said. "And wonderwoman, she wears a bra for a costume!"
Nice. I thought
"I know, I saw Bat woman's buttocks" my friend's son said.
Buttocks? I thought. Hmmm. Deep in thought as to whether the term buttocks was anatomically or politically correct, I tuned out for a moment. Always a bad thing.
"I had the hugest poop this morning. Huge. It was the biggest ever." I heard my friend's son say.
"I had one of those too but not today." my son chimed in. "Today, my grandmother had really bad diarrhea. For real."
And the conversation had deteriorated.
"Okay boys." I said, "Enough potty talk. Save it for the bathroom. And, I am sure your grandmother didnt want the world to know of her troubles."
I turned on the radio.

Where do they learn?

2008-06-08T07:41:00.002-04:00

I got a progress report back from my son's school recently. Happily, I gazed down at the stream of "meets expectations" until my heart dropped. There it was, a black and white check, "needs improvement." I looked twice, checked to see if it was 'on the edge' of 'working toward expectation' but no, it was dead center. (most moms understand the location of the check can mean something totally different.
I thought immediately to myself, 'how can this be? what has he not been taught?'
I looked to the left of the check, and realized, it was remembering his phone number.
I never honestly thought to teach my child our phone number. He knows his address, his town, his vacation house town, but not his phone number.
I berated myself for my shortcomings but tried to think of the bright side. I reviewed what my child does know.
Saturday:
Not hearing from your child for a few minutes could mean that he is either happily watching Jimmy Neutron, or completely destroying a room or something else. My husband and I were in the dining room when he walked in.
"Look mom, I didn't want bangs anymore so I cut my hair." Though he did, in fact, cut the entire front of his hair off, so close to his scalp, I realize now that he mastered the art of not degloving himself, or even poking his eye out.
We gave him a wiffle.
Later Saturday
At a party, he found some great drink umbrellas and figured out how to stick the umbrella through the aluminum top of a "huggie" kids drink.
I realized he can adapt to most any drinking situation and beautify it to blend in with the crowd.
I also noted, when he saw jello shots at the graduation party, he said, "I think those taste terrible"
He knows how to just say no.
Sunday
The dreaded words, "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom" usually occuring in the most inconvienent place or at the worst time.
"Fine" I answered, shuffling him into the store bathroom.
"Did you know, mom" he started, "if you go pee pee, and your pee pee is really yellow, you didnt drink enough water?"
I realized my son listens to me and knows a sign of dehydration.

Thursday
Picked him up at school.
"Hey mom, look what I made!" he said excitedly. Looking at what appeared to be a bong-like creation, A ready to eat cereal cup, with a straw sticking out, a cover on top, and a baby jar attached to the front, I said, "Wow, what is it?" hoping for the best.
"It's an exterminator. See mom it is all the stuff from the recycle bin"
Okay, got it. "did anyone help you with this?" I asked.
"No, I did it myself."
Happily, I thought my son knew how to invent things out of recycled materials.

Saturday
Coming home from a Birthday party we were heading toward Walmart for a sprinkler. It was about 80 degrees out and climbing.
I heard from the back seat, "Walmart, Live better!" Fabulous. We continued on our way and took a left past Dunkin donuts, where he said, "Hey Mom-America Running, Dunkin Donuts"
I realized he knew the marketing slogan for DD and walmart, Not bad.
In Walmart, he started to tell me what Tampons were for.
"they go in your.."
"Enough." I said. Not wanting to know the answer yet trying to figure out where they learn these things.

Overall, all is not lost, I thought. He has some good, obscure talents we can work with, and if we can deal with that, the phone number should be a piece of cake.

BYOBag

2008-05-31T08:06:00.003-04:00

Recently, I had to host a luncheon for an office in order to get some feedback about our services. Forty Dollars for a few sandwiches typically get you about 5-10 minutes worth of information, not counting the chews. Angela, my panera friend on speed dial, was of duty today, because I was lunching in a foreign territory. In Massachusetts tradition, this higher income strata town also begins with a 'W', and though my panera tradition would likely suffice, I couldn't order sandwiches for only 4 people and I didn't want to chance bacterial relocation in their colon with the long drive in my hot car. I remembered that there was a fancy grocery store chain close to the office. Heading toward Sudbury farms, I stumbled upon Whole Foods, one of my favorite chains, and thinking of Iggy's cranberry pecan bread hosting fresh turkey, I banged an immediate right into the parking lot.
Now, for a luncheon, the food needs to be plentiful, tasty and complete. Not knowing if anyone was a vegetarian,didn't eat beef, or was on a raw diet, I had to cover my bases. I grabbed cut fruit, a salad, a few sandwiches, some cookies, and a few bottles of water. Bringing my cart to the front, I noticed the reusable grocery bags and thought that it was finally time to cave. A tough decision because Whole foods has the best handled paper bags that were always useful.
I won't lie, I was in market basket a few weeks ago and contemplated buying their bright royal blue grocery bags but thought twice. They 'screamed' discount. I noticed that Shaw's had less obvious green cloth bags and thought for a minute about purchasing theirs, but decided against it, briefly thinking that I normally didnt shop there because it was too expensive. Here, I was faced with a whole foods bag decorated with pacifying muted blues and greens, that had a sign in front saying "I use to be plastic bottles". That sign was a sign and I purchased two bags.
Was it really a sign, or is there a class system of reusable grocery bags? Was it the esthetics that made me purchase it,or was it the fact that the whole food reusable bag was my visible committment to high end grocery shopping. After all, shopping in market basket with my whole food bags would look like I was 'just stopping in for a few quick things, I dont normally shop here'.
I headed into the Doctor's office with my artfully packed new grocery bags, looking smartly eco-conscious. Proud of my accomplishment, I took a step back and wondered if I was committed to helping the environment, or feeding my ego.
The truth will be told when I actually grab the bags off the floor of the closet (or wherever they end up getting shoved) and go grocery shopping.

Career Introspection

2008-05-30T10:03:00.003-04:00

Leading up to my annual review for one of my positions, I began to look in-depth at my vastly different positions, what I liked, disliked and where I wanted to go from here. My self evaluation typically happens every 7 months or so, with or without the corporate paper trail.
Riding in to work together is typically the time we alot for deep discussions, whether it be about the fallen tree, a potential addition on the home, expenses, etc. You get the idea, right. Attempting to discuss anything at home is normally interrupted by:
"Mommy, Daddy, I have to go poop and you need to turn the light on so I can reach"
which inevitably ends up in a bathroom clean up because potty independence can often be a messy thing.
The morning ride began with traffic earlier than expected.
"Come ON!" my husband yelled, at arguably the shortest light in the history of a rotary at Wellington circle.
"I love my one job's flexibility" I started, ignoring the minor bout of road rage.
"and I love working from home, it is so great"
"Yeah, he agreed, moving the car forward a few inches toward the back of a grey camry. "Working at home is awesome" He proceeded through the light.
"I wish I could work from home all the time" I added.
"You can, just get a job that enables you to do that." He said. "I know, you could have a career doing phone sex" and laughed.
For those of you who know my oddly puritan ways, this would be possibly the last career I would excel at. However, knowing my husband, he couldnt resist laughing about it.
"I can hear it now, one of your calls...
'what are you wearing?'
and you would say, 'A T shirt and sweats' ...
'oh' click.
or even, 'You are doing whaaat??? eeeeeewwwww!"
At which point your manager would have to intervene. 'I told you that you should say, ooooohhhhhh, not eeeeewwwww.' or, 'You need to be a bit more verbally creative with your wardrobe'
We both got a good laugh on our way into work. Luckily, my annual review went well.

What you didn't know...

2008-05-29T18:46:00.004-04:00

In light of the recent shoe wars, tie versus slip on, I noticed something about my husband that I hadn't ever realized in the 9 years of marriage.
"Um, what are you doing?" I asked, looking down at my husband crouched over my son's black sneakers.
"Tying his shoe!" frustrated, mainly because of his recent shunning of the slip-on merrill's.
"You still make bunny ears!" I laughed.
"Yeah, well how else do you tie shoes?"
Without a good answer, or wanting to complete the shoe tying task, I slunked off. I realized I had discovering something completely inane about my husband that I did not know. In doing so, I began to really listen and ask questions of others, knowing they must have magical talents as well. A surgeon I work with recently lost his grandfather, someone he was very close to growing up.
"He owned a trucking business" I was informed, after inquiring.
"Really?" wanting to know more.
"Yeah, he would wash trucks and work with his grandfather summers. I think he thought he was going into the trucking business."
and now he is a surgeon..I thought.
I remembered going to a 50th birthday party and scanning the collage of photo's of the honoree. 'who knew they could tap dance' I thought to myself a talent not typically useful in the day to day task management of running a clinic.
"Hey, what have I done that surprised you?" I asked my husband. Surely, I had a surprising talent.
Was it my ability to sleep with the TV on and rapidly awaken if you try to turn it off?
Could it be that I spend more than 20 dollars on one bra?
Possibly my keen ability to choose essentially the same style shoes with only minute differences but have at least 3 pairs in each color?
My innate joy picking through the tie racks at Filene's basement to find a Joseph Abboud or Zegna tie at 50-75% off.
My internal radar that alerts me to any time you are on the phone with your friend, trying to put in your fantasy baseball picks, or just listening to music so I can find a task for you to complete?
What about my ability to manage a crisis situation? Surely that was suprising?
I held my breath...
"I'm use to you by now."
Maybe so, but you never know.

Escape to the big K

2008-05-27T09:36:00.002-04:00

I took the day after Memorial Day off, with no specific agenda, and woke up overwhelmed. Though I was away for the weekend,and cleaned my cottage rather thoroughly, I woke up and scanned my house with dismay. My agenda quickly filled.
Dropping my son off at daycare is not uneventful for me normally. I believe kids know when you have a weak spot, and they hone in. Really, they figure out that you have taken the day off based on your attire and decide to hound you because you have nothing better to do. I prepped him appropriately which included two kinds of bagels, one with cream cheese, one with butter, one whole wheat and one poppy seed. I picked out his favorite clothes, all the while talking about how much his friends missed him. The manipulation began.
"Daddy said that I could stay here and do this for as long as I want" He said.
"Really?" I am sure Daddy did not sanction lying in a pile of pillows watching Fairly Odd parents eating bagels and drinking OJ all morning. "Lets call him and find out" and I did.
Eventually, I got him in the car and down to preschool. We had to include one "capri sun" juice drink, a few more bites of bagel, and a lenthy argument over tie shoes or slip ons. Tie shoes were favored but the tongue was an endless complaint.
After dropping him off, and I wont bore you with details, I headed out. I thought about Home Depot, Lowes, getting gas, vacumming my car, buying plants for the back yard, but I pulled into the Big K. K-Mart.
I noticed people were walking in, so I decided to browse. Itwas 8:30 in the morning.
I browsed in the comforter sets, finding one I liked only to find that it seemed only available in Queen size. The employee, obviously caffienated, asked if she could help.
"Just looking" I said.
I browsed in the outdoors area.
"Well good morning young lady!" I heard bellowing from the electronics section.
I looked behind me and to the side. 'young lady?' I thought, Okay, I'll play.
"Hi!" I answered back.
"CAn I help you with something?"
"Just looking" again, I answered. I veered off toward the snacks. Narrowly avoiding a large rolling cart of things needing to be stocked.
"Good morning" I heard from behind the cart. Okay, this is getting weird. I have been to Kmart a few times but never assaulted by so many chipper employees waiting to help me. "Do you need help finding something?" He asked.
I looked down at myself, wondering if I looked like I was casing the joint. Were most 8am shoppers more goal oriented? Okay, I will bite.
"Where are the cleaning products?" I asked, thinking of my messy house awaiting my return.
He pointed one aisle away. I was on the right track.
Veering toward the other end of the store, which looked less stocked with employees, I browsed and examined the bras, the kids clothes, the Thom McAn shoe line and finally the paint. Originally I thought about painting today. All that was available was white. Bright white.
I went back to the comforters and contemplated putting a queen size on a king size bed.
It was 9a at this point and I had wasted 45 minutes looking at things that I didnt need in a store I didnt need to be in.
I realized it was just an escape, an easy avoidance of my to-do list that was growing ever so lengthy.
I headed home.

A Week in Soundbites

2008-05-22T20:12:00.002-04:00

A rather hectic week that can only be adequately conveyed in soundbites, otherwise the details are sheer boredom.
Monday-
"Hey, did you notice the big wet spot on the rug downstairs?" I asked coming up from doing laundry.
"Yeah, I think the cat urinated there."
"Seriously? I dont think so. That's a lot of volume for a cat and it doesnt smell"
Tuesday-"Hey, can you come downstairs for a second, I think the rug is wet" My husband yelled upstairs.
"Put some paper towels down and see if they get wet" I answered.
"They are!" He yelled back. After investigating, more thoroughly, "Looks like the water heater is leaking"
Wednesday-(morning)
"Any word on who owns the tree that fell on the neighbor's house below us?"
"No word, I wonder if its our tree? Either way, we have to wait for the insurance person to call us. Good thing we have homeowners."
Evening
Via Voicemail- I am calling to find out if there is group tonite. The paper I have here says there is group the second, third and fourth wednesday of the month. Can you call me? It is the third wednesday and I want to know if there is group"
Thursday
morning (pre coffee)
"Hey, Eileen, Do I have a hole in my butt?" showing her the back of my pants.
Brian "Yeah, we all do"
Morning (during coffee)
To self-'Why are those guys fooling with the fire alarm and carrying clipboards, its only 8:15 am?'
Overhead via paging system "Code Red Third Floor, Drill"
"Why do they call a code red the minute you get in and get settled. They should call a code red when you need a break, at like 10a"
Night
"Tonite we are having Shrimp cocktail, chicken wings, sushi and Cherries" An odd combination, but it sounded good in the grocery store.
Husband "Could you have found any other foods that require a lot of work to eat?"

Good thing it's a long weekend.

Ex-Capades

2008-05-19T07:13:00.002-04:00

I was recently watching TV, not sure which show, but was struck by a comment that when you run into an ex, there is always a winner and a loser. That being said, my campaign for exercise has gotten of to a weak start 6 months before my class reunion, but fate would not let me wait I suppose. Apparently, fate was on a more pressing time schedule.
My day started bright an early because I had somehow invited, well, lets say 9 adults and 4 children over for a cookout on my son's birthday. Family and friends, though related, seemingly do not appreciate a filthy house. It was overcast, outside was not an option. I mopped, I dusted (yes, with my new swifter duster!) and I scrubbed. My husband was in and out, juggling a few lists of things we needed, like food, while entertaining my 5 year old. At about noon, I finished and hopped into the shower. My stellar planning efforts nabbed me a cold shower, but whatever, I no longer smelled. People started coming, we grilled, we served, we sang Happy Birthday to my son, and I spent 10 minutes brewing individual cups of coffee for my guests. I love my Keurig daily, but it doesn't seem to do well in a large group, it is more of a monogomist.
"We didn't figure in company when we ordered the coffee" I said to my husband, while inserting the 5th Keurig cup. I probably should have dug out the Mr. Coffee.
Our plan was to go to the Carnival in the W-town with all the kids after the guests left. The kids, not being so subtle, kept coming in the dining room.
"When are we going???" we heard from each at about ten minute intervals.
In unison, my guests packed up and left, and we were off to the fair.
Normally, when going someplace, I think to myself, "who am I going to run into" and try to clean myself up a bit. You know, brush my hair, put on some make up, and maybe match my clothes. My jean capri pants weren't the stylish wide leg in fashion now, and my comfortable Rocket Dog velcro sneakers were off with my, well lets just admit it, Flood pants. I walked outside and thought it was kinda cold and grabbed my LLbean fleece, and had the sense to at least change from the capri pants. My hair was a bit off, well, one side was sticking out and I contemplated a hat, which I dont really look good in. "who cares what I look like" I thought, which was my first mistake.
We got to the fair and immediately sprung for 50 tickets to ensure maximum rides, but not before winning two stuffed animals (small) in the duck and fishing games.
"I want to go on the rollercoaster" one of the kids said.
"I want the dizzy dragons!" another said.
The lines were equally as long and we settled for the rollercoaster. Standing in line, the sun was hot, and we were looking around for our husbands who got stuck talking to people they knew. Looking around,I noticed an arm.
It is interesting when you recognize someone you havent seen in a while, you notice something about them. An aura or a shape, their face is not usually the first thing you see.
"Oh crap." I said to Rachel. "My ex boyfriend I havent seen in 10 years is here."
"What is an ex-boyfriend??" my now five year old asked.
"Never mind" I said. He was in line at the dizzy dragons, which thankfully we voted against. I thought about the wallet I returned the other night, and tried to figure out why Kharma was letting me look like a dyslexic LLbean outdoorswoman that got ready in an outhouse before coming here.
We continued onward, after splitting up, we took our friend's older girl and our son and went on rides, slides, and generally had fun until we got to the motorcycles. I was holding my son. He was standing across, watching his kids on the ride and realized who it was, did a double take, and came over. I was casual because I mentally was able to prepare.
"Hi" he said. We said hugged, we said hello. He looked thinner, or maybe it was my weight gain juxtaposed.
"Oh, Hi!" I said nonchalantly.
I introduced him to my husband and son.
"Hey," my five year old said. "You are my mommy's ex boyfriend"
Busted. We all laughed.
We chatted a bit, caught up on a few things, though there was so many more people I wanted to ask about that we knew. There was no winner, no loser, no crazy emotion. It just was. Who cared what I looked like because my life was the way it should have been. I was happier now in my life more than ever.
It is the way it should be.

Ode to a messy kitchen

2008-05-16T20:25:00.003-04:00

Letting the dog out tonite, I walked by my cabinet and noticed a big dried drip of some sort of red food and/or drink.
'Where did this come from and what the hell is it?' I thought to myself, having done a quick cleaning last night in an attempt to pick up in preparation for our cookout tommorrow.
I pondered. I had no idea what that was. It looked like food, but it didn't resemble anything I recently purchased.
Is it that a bevy of strangers come into my house when I am not at home? A bevy not much interested in my treasure, but more interested in messing up my house. Strangers with extremely poor eating habits of only large quantities of stain-causing foods.
I immediately reached for one of the 6 bottles of simple green cleaner (purchased at the Christmas tree shop on sale) strewn about the kitchen. I cleaned it up.
'Yes,' I thought. That must be it. Strangers eating messily in my house because frankly, there is no other plausible explaination I can face right now.

Shopping Ed Hardy

2008-05-14T08:45:00.003-04:00

Maybe it was over saturation watching "Rock of Love 2", Maybe it was a mid life crisis, but I felt the overwhelming urge to buy an Ed Hardy T (long sleeve, preferably a hoodie). After an exhausting search on ebay, trying to find just the right bargain, I realized that Ed Hardy had a richer following than I, and I really needed to justify spending over 100.00 on a hoodie.
The opportunity came when my husband, a baseball hat fanatic, saw some unusual red soxs hats in the window of what I could only describe as a gangsta store. Of course, we all went in. While he was shopping the hats, my son and I spotted some T's and Hoodies with the traditional Ed Hardy graffiti. JOY!! I made a beeline, but they were high up and I couldn't compare the size.
"Hey, do you like that one? It looks like it would fit you!" I said to my son, matching Ed Hardy's would be the coolest!
"Yeah, mom, I like the pink one." but of course. Luckily his dad was engrossed in comparison hat shopping.
The waif thin sales girls have all but been ignoring me speaking spanish, laughing.
Since I could understand, I didn't suffer from NSS, or nail salon syndrome when paranoia overcomes you with everyone speaking a foreign language around you.
"Ummm. Can I get a T in his size, and do you have anything in my size?"
Eyeballs up and down, I got the once over and a frozen look appeared on her face as she flicked her long black hair back with her freshly manicured talons.
"Those are ladies, they aren't kids. We dont have nothin in your size"
There was no way this chica was going to let me, a frumpy, middle aged soccer mom buy an Ed Hardy. Not until hell freezes over for sure.
Mortified, and equally thankful I wasnt wearing my new birkenstocks, I hung my head low and made my way out.
No Ed Hardy for me.
Mother's day came, and those of you blog fans will be relieved to know that I finally got 6 bottles of vitabath pink lotion, but no Ed Hardy. Remorseful from my previous day's fat clothes shopping spree, I headed out to Kohls to return some stuff. Shopping around, I found it. A perfect T shirt. Long Sleeved, looked Ed Hardy-esque and on the sale rack. Apparently Kohls shoppers dont value counter culture fashion as I do.
For 3 dollars, maybe 3.60, I bought myself a long sleeve Ed Hardy-esque T. Though it said something like "Couture" and not, "love kills slowly" I fed my mid life crisis. If I like it, I will invest in the real deal.
Until then, this soccer mom, birkenstock wearing, frumpy fat-ass will proudly wear her 3.60 T shirt.

Don't take offense...

2008-05-14T07:36:00.003-04:00

I have decided recently, that working in healthcare as a provider requires a very thick skin. Frankly, I am not sure how I survived for so long, and contemplate if I have become less caring, or less empathetic.
In providing care, you seem to get assaulted from all levels, patients, physicians, admins, etc. Most of the time, the positive outweighs the negative, but for the most part, its a daily struggle in direct patient care. You take the positive where you can get it, a thank you, a hug, a smile, even a wave of recognition. As non-judgemental I am of you, I hope you are of me. Not always that way.
For some reason, I have become the "it" girl for email questions. Well, I know the reason, the other position has been vacant for 6 months and I am pretty much the contact person. My email box was joyfully blessed with the following email from someone I have never met, nor seen. (reworded, but you get the gist)
"I need to see a dietitian, I dont want to see you, so can you find me someone else in my area of MA. Don't take offense."
Of course not. Why would I take offense? My stellar reputation must preceed me!
Hopefully you can see the sarcasm dripping from that one. So I sit here, looking at this email, trying to figure out if I should be the bigger person and find her a dietitian. The other half of me realizes that I am not working right now for them and have way too much other stuff to do.

When Pigs Fly....

2008-05-05T07:58:00.002-04:00

We were driving down route 1 in Maine on our way home.
"Which way do I go, the factory or the store?" My husband asked.
"The factory is probably closed, right? Lets try the store"
It was approaching 6 pm and both of us were skeptical that the store would be open still. It was a Saturday,and really, who would be needing a bakery at 6p on a Saturday.
"There it is!" I yelled. A truck had pulled up to the door.
"Are you open?" I yelled out the window at a slightly hippy-ish looking guy.
"Yeah, but I'm just bagging up, go on in!" he yelled back. Suprisingly, not irritated. God Bless those Maine-ers!
I jumped out of the car as soon as we stopped.
"Can I wait in the car?" my husband asked. There was probably some ball game on, Base, basket, foot...
"No! You have the cash, and I want to get one for your mom." I yelled, turning back from a sprint.
The sales clerk yelled instructions.
"OLive and rosemary loafs are bagged up in the front." Yeah, right. Sounds good, but not for me now! I came for the chocolate bread!
I looked down into the dark wicker basket lined with wax paper. None. A few crumbs. I was saddened. The salesclerk saw me, and intuitively knew I was lost.
"I have some in the back. One?" he asked.
"Make it two!" another woman chimed in. She also seemed to have sprinted in at the last possible minute to get her fix of chocolate bread.
You are asking yourself, how did this all start? Or not, you might be asking yourself, Chocolate bread?
It was early in the morning, the winter after we got our son, who enjoyed waking up at about 5am. I hadn't yet started taping Law and Order to watch early in the morning, but did find the Phantom Gourmet. My former boss, also a fan, enjoyed this show also, so we had something to discuss. It was a Phantom special, The best of New England, or something like that. I had discovered another ME treasure, Wicked Whoopies on this show as well, but they had Massachussetts availability. The chocolate bread from the When Pigs Fly bakery intrigued me. I had seen the brand in our local Shaws, but it was traditional harvest wheat, rye, sourdough, and the always edgy cinnamon raisin. No chocolate bread. Until I went to Kittery and became hooked. At 6.00 a loaf, it is worth it. I discovered other fun flavors like cinnamon banana pecan, or something like that, which taste phenomenal with butter for breakfast, or maybe as french toast. Each time we go, I get a loaf or two, much to my husbands frustration.
"Six Dollars a loaf!" He always comments.
Now, you are likely wondering what I am having for breakfast today. An egg white omelet? Whole wheat waffles?
I will just leave it at this, I made a new, flavorful discovery. Super tasty, super yummy, so much so that both the cat and dog are vying for some.
Toasted chocolate bread, peanutbutter and fluff.
Yummy.

Catatonic

2008-05-01T18:54:00.002-04:00

I took the T to work today for the first time in a while. I actually took the T home the other night, after two drinks, but I was fairly oblivious at that point to most everything except for the add the diagnosed me with Fibroids.
"Do you have bloating, abdominal pain, frequent urination?" It yelled from the poster.
"Why yes I do!" I thought, after two vodka containing drinks, though I think that the vagueness of those sypmtoms could apply to anyone at a given moment.
I digress.
I got a seat, and after sitting down dug through my large bag that carried a plethra of activities for my ride. I had my Harry Potter book, my Ipod, a random magazine about breast imaging, and of course, my cell phone. I decided upon my Potter book. I started reading and settled into the ride, realizing that it was actually quite nice to be on the train. Not too crowded, not too loud. Nobody felt the need to chat loudly on their cell phone,or share their music with you that you couldn't quite hear anyway, so it was just static noise.
I got off the train at the appropriate stop, but not before digging out my IPOD for the second part of the journey.I had to get on a bus to transport me to my next destination. I looked at my cell phone for the time and noted that I had about 35 minutes to make it to work, and I still hadnt eaten breakfast nor had my second cup of coffee.
About 50 high school students exited the train about the time I did. A large Lacrosse stick nearly missed my head, and the girls were in a thick click not easy to navigate around. I made it out the doors, and stopped, as quickly as the clique of girls ahead stopped. We all looked, not sure what to do.
A woman, maybe in her 60s, stood right outside the exit. Hands folded across her thin blue jacket, chin forward and up. Her eyes bugged out, open wide, as if she misplaced her thyroid medication and hadnt taken it for a few months.
And she didnt blink.
We watched, looked at each other,confused. Not sure what whe should do, but my first instict was to clap my hands really loudly in front of her. We all looked at each other again, uncomfortably. No movement, no blinking. She was clearly catatonic.
The crowd surged forward. we moved away.
We did nothing, there was nothing for us to do because she was doing nothing.
Her stillness jolted our morning, stopped us from the hustle and bustle of trying to transfer from the train to the bus. She was an anomaly in a pretty routine morning.

Public Toilet humiliation

2008-05-01T08:23:00.002-04:00

On Marathon Weekend, I got the great idea to go into Boston for Lunch, specifically to the California Pizza Kitchen. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it was bright, crisp and beautful out, and in the midst of a long weekend.
We took the train in, enjoying the ride, until we hit the Prudential center, where we got off, and planted ourselves in the middle of a large, nylon outfitted mass.
"Why do runners feel they need to wear their running outfits everywhere?" My friend asked.
"Not sure, maybe they are comfortable" I replied
"My scrubs are comfy, I don't wear them everywhere" she said.
Good point.
we made our way through the crowd and to the Pizza kitchen. Now, my general knowledge of carbohydrate, protein and fat content of food didnt translate to the real world. Where would people go to carb load? The CPK seemed to be the appropriate spot. We put our name on the list and proceeded to wait.
"I have never gotten the urge to run 26.2 miles." my friend observed.
"Me neither" I said, but thinking it would be pretty cool to do it. Our friend, a mother of 5, was running.
We finally got settled at our table, ordered and proceeded to eat. Of course, knowing my 5 year old with incredibly regular elimination habits, he had to go to the bathroom, and there was a line.
I grabbled my purse and took him in. There were two stalls and about 5 people waiting. We went in, he did his thing. I realized I had to use the bathroom and use a feminine hygeine product. Not knowing what to do, I said, "Go outside of the stall, stand right in front and dont move. I can see your legs. I have to go to the bathroom."
He did. He danced around a bit, probably looking at what was around him. He finally yelled out.
"Hey mom, when you are done with the tube thing, you can throw it in the trash right here."
The entire bathroom erupted in laughter.
Of course, I was mortified.

Pahhtying below my age..

2008-04-26T09:45:00.002-04:00

I walked into the bar with my work colleagues, knowing that my first fatal mistake was being in a bar with work colleagues and my second fatal mistake was getting dressed this morning in clothing that could essentially make an easy transition from work to bowling to taking the T home. I had on a blue tent with khaki capri's and born flats, surrounded by mini skirts and 4 inch heels. Now, given that I haven't been in a bar in, well, lets say 8 years, I was taken aback by the noise, crowd and stench of stale beer. My ears were being continuously assaulted and I realized that with age, they weren't bouncing back.
Walking in, I was met with the harsh stares of twenty something's, I put my head down, continued forward, and tried not to think that I could probably be their mother. Of course, I had a big leather bag that carried my prized work possessions, awkward in comparison to their small coach and vuitton purses. I threw it on the floor in the center of our circle. I realized it was a good thing I sucked it up and colored my hair on Monday.
Talking was awkward and nearly impossible, so I decided to people watch. To my left, a group of 30 somethings, seemingly an after work outing similar to ours. "Sweet child of mine" blasted over the sound system, and the one girl climbed up on the chair and began to swing her hair around and thrust her body against the wall.
"What do you think she does for a living" I yelled to my colleague
"Stripper?" he asked.
I laughed, immediately thinking she was more likely an office manager.
I looked at her hand, noted a wedding band, and figured she probably needed a night out to reassure her she wasn't the stereotype of the old married lady.
She will get over that, I thought.
We stood around and drank. I was bumped into, and for some reason,people felt the need to stand directly behind my back so I was essentially back to back with them. Unaccustomed to the bar acrobatics, I kept trying to move away from strangers touching me. I looked around,and viewed the social scene from a different perspective, but couldnt decide if this was melancholy, or I was just plain bummed that I was well past the age I should be partying in a bar. My beer was kicking in, I was finally kicking back. Our crowd thinned out. I would have left also, but for the promise of a ride home.
Married office manager started dirty dancing again, not sure what song it was this time.
"Get that girl a stripper pole" I announced.
We talked about their dates.
"I thought he was really nice, maybe a second date, but I dont see the point of going out with him more than that"
"When I went on a date with my husband, I didnt want to date anyone else again" I shared.
"Really?" all three left in the bar looked at me.
We started talking relationships, dating, and I finally felt like I had something to offer. Some hindsight, something more than feeling oddly awkward and old.
I was partying again, in my 40's, with tall, thin, attractive people, holding my own. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was that I didn't care, but it was different.
I understand recently single women and their fear of going out to bars, I know I wouldn't do it again.
But, I finally felt comfortable and I am not sure why.

Facebook

2008-04-21T20:08:00.002-04:00

I recently joined Facebook. Last night to be exact, for no reason other than my husband joined. I must say, it invokes just the right amount of narcissim, thinking that peoople actually give a crap about what you have to say or think. Much like blogging, you can share your thoughts, feelings, whatever with anyone you choose, but in a less wordy way.
My new "friends' seem to be actually old friends, and some of my friends kids. I've noticed that I don't feel like so much of an "old lady" yet, welcomed on many levels. It's fun logging on to see who sent me a message or post, waiting for responses from some people I haven't actually spoken with in 10 years. I'm assuming, much like checking Perez, email, VM, it will become yet another job.

The W-Town

2008-04-20T09:42:00.002-04:00

Back in the birthday party circuit, we all sat against the wall of the matted judo studio, watching the familiar birthday party routine.
Given the awkward configuration of the benches, we were essentially limited to chatting to the ones seated next to us.
"What school is your son going to?" it seemed to be St. Mary's all around, except for my and another woman's son.
"Oh, but we are going to St. Mary's in the W-Town" a newer mom said. Newer mom meaning that she hadn't often been subjected to this Birthday routine.
"Oooooh, really?" one mom asked.
"How come, do you belong to that church?" another chimed in.
"No, I am getting married and my fiance lives in the W town" she answered.
Orgasms seemingly all around.
"I would LOOOOOVVEE to live there, but who can afford it?" another mom expressed our sentiments exactly.
We all sat quiet for a moment.
I thought to myself, there always must be that one town over, that is seemingly more attractive, school system just a little bit better, and the zip code gives you just a little more respect. It's like your town is pergatury, and you are waiting to get into the gates of what you percieve as land-owners heaven.
I'm not going to lie, we looked there when we were house hunting, but what we could afford, needed so much work, we couldnt afford it.
So we thought, was the zip code really worth it?
It's all in how you look at it, I suppose.

Shoe Envy

2008-04-16T10:04:00.002-04:00

On the first warm and sunny day, I decided to bust out of the basement and walk across the train tracks to JP Licks. It was practically Summer, I had no lunch, so a small ice cream seemed to be the right dietary decision.
Busting out of the hospital into the warm sun, I thought for a minute that I should have taken off my lab coat, given that it identified me as a dietitian, especially since I was up to no dietary good. I crossed the tracks, crossed the street, and made my way over to the corner and into the shop. I pondered for a minute, and got my small cone and realized that I had to head back to work. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the surge of vitamin D from the dual sun conversion and ice cream in my mouth, but I actually stopped when a homeless person started chatting with me.
"Hey, I Looooove those shoes!" She yelled.
I turned around, walked back and stopped.
"Do you know how old these are?" I laughed.
She smiled, "I saw you walkin in and I said, Them are my kinda shoes"
I laughed, looked at her feet fearing that I should give them to her, but realized she was easily a size 8, no match for my size 6.
"Well, Thanks!" I started back.
I didnt tell her that her shoe envy were my pride and joy, 10 year old Joan and David's, retailing for over 150$ at the time, but purchased at the outlet for 50.
God I miss that outlet.
I realized then that quality is quality, I suppose anyone can see that, right?

Evil Girl Scouts

2008-04-14T08:31:00.002-04:00

Today starts my new plan for weight loss and getting in shape-ness. Unfortunately, the evil, evil girl scouts vexed my plan. I thought, when I avoided the "free samples" from the pint size marketing geniuses at the mall, I had the last taste of the scout-goodness for roughly another year. I pondered the delicious thought that my friends kids may actually out grow the scouts or find another less calorie dense interest.
Yesterday, at the family party, those cookies I ordered at Christmas so neatly packaged, showed up, ready to be brought home. Now, my nieces had the decency to EAT everyone's cookies so that my sister had none to give. Thank God for those kids, thats for sure. Home I came with 5 boxes, all involving peanutbutter, all involving at least 150 cals per two cookies. No, I didnt order the 100 cal pack cookies they were offering, because frankly, they sucked.
I sit here, eating my fruit bowl knowing those evil freakin pb cookies and carmel dlites (the now PC renamed samoas) would taste much better with my coffee than my strawberries.
I have decided that the girl scouts should have a donation system, where you can buy the cookies, and donate them to some sort of homeless shelter.
This would make much more sense on all levels.

Portable dogs

2008-04-13T07:51:00.003-04:00

I have noted a rather alarming trend lately. Every where I go, I seem to see a portable dog. I am sure you are thinking my head must have been under a rock, since images of Paris Hilton with tinkerbell (or a less obese chihuahua) have been gracing the Perez Hilton website for years. But no, these aren't dogs MEANT to be portable, these are dogs that have specific appliances that make them portable.
I was in JC Penney the other day, still looking for that freakin Vitabath, and noted an older woman, lets say early 70's with a Stroller. Now, I knew she was in her early 70's because she had those sweat shirts with the embroidered birds on them, jeans that loosely fit like pants, and Reebok walking sneakers. I think the clothing was this year's Alfred Dunner casual line. The stroller looked oddly shaped so I paused from my vitabath seeking frenzy and peaked in.
It was a dog inside, a cute, white, mop looking dog. She had a DOG Stroller. Now, I am a dog person. I love my dog dearly despite her mischeviousness, but I believe I would not purchase a dog stroller so my dog can shop. I thought, it is what it is and didnt say anything to the woman despite my obvious intrusion so as not to reinforce the behavior. I thought this was just a one time occurrence until I went on a basement cleaning frenzy yesterday and opened the back door.
I saw a couple walking one dog and the husband had a back pack on that looked like it had a child in it. Curiously, I peered over to see the child. It wasnt a child but their other dog, who apparently wasn't walking.
Apparently, if you arent comfortable buying and wheeling a dog carriage, you can just put them in a dog back pack.
I wondered what this young couple will do when they have kids.

The Bishop

2008-04-12T12:20:00.003-04:00

Most recently, I was honored to serve as a "sponsor" for confirmation for my friend's son. Being a former catholic, a red flag was raised initially, but the church being the church, made an exception for me because "I was raised catholic and occasionally attend my parent's church". Translated,this really means Baptisms, weddings, First communions and funerals,but I think that is in line with a large percentage of "catholics". The reality is that my friend was formerly protestant and I was formerly catholic and it was essentially an even trade.
"The bishop does NOT shake hands, so please please please, do not try to shake his hand" the peppy confirmational cheerleader said from the stage while we were waiting.Just to remind me of why I left the catholic church, a large, pot belled bishop, appearing somewhat demented presided over the ceremonies. It warmed me to learn that he was also a germophobe.
We filed in, and I had to remember a seemingly extinct confirmational name and try to figure out how I would get my hand up to the 6'3 sponsee's shoulder during the ceremony. Oddly enough responses and gestures flowed from my lips and hands like a pavolovian exercise.
The bishop began his sermon. He was upset about graffiti on a church about an hour away. "Now, these kids were bored so they decided to deface the church. Look at these flowers, they are not bored"
They are not animate, no heart beat. I thought.
"these flowers are joyous" he droned on. I thought about two weeks from now when the joyously un-bored flowers sat on the curb waiting for the garbage truck, all dried out. What will be joyous about them at that point? We looked at each other and laughed a bit.
Now, my sponsee is a pretty cool kid. He is tall, thin and has long-ish hair. Quiet, somewhat an individual. He goes to a catholic school and will openly talk with me about alcohol and drugs, neither which he indulges in, thankfully.
It was our turn and we filed up toward the alter. We stood in front of the Bishop awaiting his blessing.
Unfortunately, the germophobic, demented, pot belled bishop was also Old School.
"Move your hair" he said.
A nervous laugh muffled through the church.
He moved his hair. We walked back to the pew and my friend smiled at me.
The rest of the ceremony, about an hour of it, went on uneventfully. I nudged my sponsee and said,
"You know your mother will want a picture with the bishop"
"Noooo"
"Yeah, now move fast" I said.
We went ahead and got in a somewhat long line.
Finally, it was our turn. I stood on one side of the bishop, careful not to touch him or emulate a handshake, and he stood on the other.
The bishop turned to me and said
"Arent there any decent hair salons in your town"
I thought for a minute and answered, "There are, but he wanted to look like Jesus"
Not thinking twice about why I left the catholic church.

EBay antics

2008-03-24T10:01:00.003-04:00

Over the weekend, I became an ebay fanatic. I was looking for Birkenstock sandals and started where any other middle aged person would go, Home Shopping Network. My husband idly walked by and was slightly exasperated at the prices these ugly (or as he would put it, fugly) sandals were going for. He suggested Ebay.
You are likely thinking, Why birkenstocks? Why now? First off, its been a few months since my latest emotional introspection, and for some reason, I feel that these birkenstocks will get me back in touch with who I am. After spending my last few bonuses on corporate clothing, I feel the need to get back in touch with myself, rather than trying to dress myself to somebody elses standards. Now, just to warm you, in the past, this never worked. I suspect these birkies will band-aid the problem, then become a wardrobe staple for the beach.
Happily I logged onto Ebay and found myself gazing at lots of birkies! Yay, I thought and after a few tedious pages trying to find my size, my husband coached me to narrow it down. I did.
Interestingly, USED birkies popped up. Used. When I say used, I want you to picture some heinous sandals with brown/black marks where your toes are, almost like a pedal crime scene on the shoe bed. Now seriously, why would someone buy used sandals, especially with someone elses toe prints indented on them? But, there were bids.
After several hours of searching, essentially avoiding the prep I needed to do for a talk on Sat night, I found a nice new pair in Germany. Yes, Germany.
I was the winning bidder, and Im sure they are shipping right off to the US on route to my feet.
I found lots of other fun stuff on Ebay and learned that there is always a buyer, and there is truth to the saying that one man's trash is another man's treasure.
Personally, I will stick to the non-toe indented sandals!

Shirts that don't fit right, aka-Boob Triangles

2008-03-19T08:38:00.001-04:00

I just want to mention this because I put a shirt on yesterday that had decorative triangles on the upper part of the chest.
Why are boob triangles not adjusted for the size of the shirt? It appears that I buy a larger size shirt so that it looks normal on top, but it never does. My boob triangles are always higher than where my chest ends.
Does anyone else have this problem?

THM-Totally Hip Mom

2008-03-19T08:22:00.003-04:00

I have never quite thought of my mom as "hip" Hip being appropriate because she did raise me in the 70's, I suppose. Straight laced, tell it like it is, one of the first working/professional moms in the neighborhood, hardcore republican. I was at church the other day and met up with a friend who was also a friend of my mothers. She is a single mom, and a lesbian, which will eventually define my mother's hipness. Though I had known, I never quite thought my mom acknowledged this. We chatted, her partner was not with her at church, nor had I seen her partner in a while. She asked about my mom, gave me some excellent insight into activities in our town, and we went into church.
Later, I called my mom.
"Hey, I ran into your old friend from work!" I said. My mom, in Florida now, was at the pool and the wind was whipping at the phone.
"Really! Did she ask about me?" She said.
"Yes, she did. I did tell her she you were coming home for Easter."
"Did you see her 'friend'" she asked. Hmmm. Okay, I will engage, though talking about a lesbian couple with your mom isnt exactly something that happens often.
"No, funny you say that, I havent seen her in a bit" I answered.
We went on to discuss the conversations she had with this person many years ago, before same sex marraige was legal, when this woman was making a decision to have a baby.
"Well, hopefully its not over. She did serious things like buy a house with her and have a baby." She said. " As a matter of fact, we had a long conversation about wedding rings because she went out and bought one to wear while she was pregnant so no questions were asked" She said.
"really. Well, now that they have same sex marriages, things are different" I responded, trying to imagine my mom as a confidante.
"I cant tell you how many times she was in tears in my office"
Hmmm.
One of the most interesting things I found out about was that there was another layer to her. Once I thought I had it all figured out, put in a nice box and wrapped with a bow, it opens back up and something new is revealed. It reminds me that you never really know your parents as well as you think you do. Maybe its bias, maybe its just overlooking what you dont think you see.

Order restored

2008-03-07T07:37:00.003-05:00

An emotional week, one that can be inferred by the lack of blogging. It was a funny and sad week, an odd juxaposition.
A friend was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. The week before, we had been talking about the barbaric approach to a breast biopsy at church.
"A man definately thought of this!" She said. "I had to put my breast through a hole then they flattened it and used a needed to biopsy."
Luckily, I had never been privvy to it, but sympathized having had a diagnostic mammogram, with three ultrasounds and 4 mammograms in a span of 3 hours.
An email popped up, subject line, "Yuk", which in my line of business can mean the protein shake tastes like crap, or they cant get all their fluid in. In this case, t was more that the breast biopsy came back positive and surgery was scheduled.
Being a female, one always worries about breast cancer. Its everywhere, and its actually my job to market prevention. It never quite hits so close to home though.
We met again at yet another birthday party held at a local karate studio. (we arent so creative here in my town!)
" I can take your daughter home monday night and give her dinner" I suggested. "You know, so you can come home from the biopsy and get settled."
She accepted, so I picked her daughter up from school along with my son.
"We have a date tonite" the kids told the teacher.
Oh boy.
We got in the car and they chatted away. Naming the two stuffed animals that my son brought.
"Their last name needs to be the same as yours" she said. Needing to restore some sense of organization to my sons random bouts of creativity.
We got home, and they sat down to kids meals and a movie. I figured they needed a nice treat.
Her dad called and said all was well, and I could bring her home at about 7:30p.
"YOur dad called, I am going to bring you home in about 45 minutes'
"Yay!" I heard, not quite understanding.
"So we have time to take a bath together?" They said in unison.
Taken aback, I wasnt quite sure what to say.
"No, you guys cant" I said.
"Plllleeeeeaaaaassssseee!" they pleaded.
Seriously?
"You cant take a bath together because its not appropriate." I said.
"What is appropriate?" they asked.
I realized my mom-ism was about 5 years too soon for the five year olds.
We at least got a laugh out of the situation.

Funny chain email!

2008-03-01T08:11:00.003-05:00

I got this email the other day and couldnt stop laughing. I had to share it with some of my pals.

Thinking of Having Kids?

Do this 11 step program first!

Lesson 1
1. Go to the grocery store.
2. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head office.
3. Go home.
4. Pick up the paper.
5. Read it for the last time.

Lesson 2
Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already
are parents and berate them about their...
1. Methods of discipline.
2. Lack of patience.
3. Appallingly low tolerance levels.
4. Allowing their children to run wild.
5. Suggest ways in which they might impr ove their child's breastfeeding,
sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior.
Enjoy it because it will be the last time in your life you will have all
the answers.

Lesson 3
A really good way to discover how the nights might feel...
1. Get home from work and immediately begin walking around the living
room from 5PM to 10PM carrying a wet bag weighi ng approximately 8-12 pounds,
with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly.
(Eat cold food with one hand for dinner) 2. At 10PM, put the bag gently down,
set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.
3. Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag,
until 1AM.
4. Set the alarm for 3AM.
5. As you can't get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and make a drink and
watch an infomercial.
6. Go to bed at 2:45AM.
7. Get u p at 3AM when the alarm goes off.
8. Sing songs quietly in the dark until 4AM.
9. Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for work and go to work (work hard
and be productive)
Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Keep this up for 3-5 years. Look cheerful
and together.

Lesson 4
Can you stand the mess children make? To find out:
1. Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains.
2. Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all
summer.
3. Stick your fingers in the flower bed.
4. Then rub them on the clean walls.
5. Take your favorite book, photo album, etc. Wreck it.
6. Spill milk on your new pillows. Cover the stains with crayons. How
does that look?
Lesson 5
Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.
1. Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loo se mesh.
2. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang
out.
Time allowed for this - all morning.

Lesson 6
Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van. And don't think that you can leave
it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don't look like that.
1. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment.
Leave it there.
2. Get a dime. Stick it in the CD player.
3. Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the
back seat. Sprinkle cheerios all over the floor, then smash them with your foot.
4. Run a garden rake along both side s of the car.

Lesson 7
Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can
find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is an excellent choice). If you
intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat. Buy
your week's groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for
everything the goat eats or destroys. Until you can easily accomplish this, do
not even contemplate having children.
Lesson 8
1. Hollow out a melon.
2. Make a small hole in the side.
3. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.
4. Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the
swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane.
5. Continue until half the Cheerios are gone.
6. Tip half into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air. You
are now ready to feed a nine- month-old baby.

Lesson 9
Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street , Barney, Disney,
the Teletubbies, and Pokemon. Watch nothing else on TV but PBS, the Disney
channel or Noggin for at least five years. (I know, you're thinking What's
'Noggin'?) Exactly the point.

Lesson 10
Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying 'mommy' repeatedly. (Important:
no more than a four second delay between each 'mommy'; occasional crescendo to
the
level of a supersonic jet is required). Play this tape in your car
everywhere you go for the next four years. You are now ready to take a long trip
with a toddler.

Lesson 11
Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually
tug on your skirt hem, shirt- sleeve, or elbow while playing the 'mommy' tape
made from Lesson 10 above. You are now ready to have a conversation with an
adult while there is a
child in the room.

This is all very tongue in cheek; anyone who is parent will say 'it's
all worth it!' Share it with your friends, both those who do and don't have
kids. I guarantee they'll get a chuckle out of it.

Remember, a sense of humor is one of the most important things you'll
need when you become a parent!

Square Shaped Corn

2008-03-01T07:51:00.003-05:00

With the dire predictions about the economy, my grocery list has made the sacrifice. Of course, only after a heated discussion with my husband about perceived food waste. Like any other working mom, I despise grocery shopping. I typically would shop every two weeks and come home with a significant amount of food. I havent quite mastered the planning and use of the more perishable foods, thus leading to food waste. I have agreed to shop once per week as part of my new economic plan.
In addition, I recently found a chain that lowered my grocery bill considerably, but found that my shopping availability, aka Saturday morning, is like navigating Grand Central Station at rush hour. Is it worth the 50-60 dollars less? I think so.
I have begun shopping on Friday afternoon, which is a bit of an improvement, and am relying more on store brands. That being said, I entered the cereal aisle with trepidation, because cereal is one of the most price inflated items in the store. If you have ever navigated the cereal aisle with a 4 year old, you will sometimes pay anything to avoid the temper tantrum in aisle 7.
I spotted a huge box of square shaped corn, perched next to the Chex cereal it was mimicing. It was priced, 2 boxes for 5.00, a bargain! I grabbed a box in addition to two named brand cereals that happened to be on sale.
A week later, the square shaped corn made its appearance at the breakfast table.
"What is this?" my husband asked.
"cereal, the store brand of chex" I answered.
"I love the name, 'Square shaped corn', could they have though of anything more creative?" He had a point, which reminded me that I always wanted to be that person who named things like cereal, tubefeeding, lipstick. I think that OPI has the nail polish covered.
He shoveled a few spoonfuls in his mouth.
"Its actually better than the regular stuff. Its thicker and holds the milk better." he said between bitefuls.
Sometimes, truth is the best reality.

a few bites away

2008-02-27T07:33:00.002-05:00

Coming off the elevator, I noticed a combination of milling anthesiologists with my weight loss patients. An odd site, I realized some were eating, others were making their way into the room. I could smell the pizza from outside the door. Yet again, the room had food.
Dragging my scale through the crowd, I saw a rather overweight physician shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth while chatting with his friends.

"Hey, do you know what group is in here next?" He laughed

His friends looked around, gazes fixating on my scale.
"Weight loss!" He started laughing.

I stopped and turned, my eyes meeting his and thought,
'Hey, you are just a few bites away pal."
Though the comment maybe made him feel a bit better, it was pretty upsetting to the people standing around him, waiting to get in the room. I thought it, but couldnt say it, Because that was the reality.

Overheard on the bleachers

2008-02-18T08:33:00.004-05:00

A friend called me recently, we chatted about college friends. Both of us had significant others in college with whom most of our experiences were shared.
"I just feel like I have no ties to college, no friends I keep in touch with" she said. "I was reorganizing the garage and found all these photos and I couldnt remember where we were, what we were doing, and I have nobody to call about it." Now, this friend has the most incredible scrap books. They are envious and professional. Random photos are frustrating, to say the least.
I thought about that for awhile and wondered where my random photos might be. My father, the pack rat, may have squirreled them away, whereas my mother, the person who throws things away, may have wiped out my memories with a swift trip down the driveway.
We commiserated for a bit, I told her that I have essentially one college friend I am close to, and one other I stay in touch with about twice per year. She spoke of her dorm mates living close by, kids going to the same school, etc. Her experiences were more frustrating for her because she has moved twice and had the unpleasant task of breaking into new friendships.
Sitting on the bleachers at Gymnastics, more of this reality hit. I looked around and noticed groups of moms chatting. The groups were tight, the personalities were distinct. The cliques had evolved.
The one who use to be popular, still attractive, still aware.
The two who were fairly attractive, but still competing.
The one who was there because of that friendship loyalty.
No sense in reaching out to that group, I thought.
I turned back to the bleachers, where a woman was intently reading a medical journal. It was the weekend, I needed a break.
I turned the other way, a man and woman recognized each other from high school.
"Hey, how are you?" she asked.
He was wrestling a two year old down from traveling up to the top bleacher.
"Great! good to see you."
They chatted for a bit and then I heard it.
He said, rather clearly, "I cant believe my life turned out like this."
"I know!" She agreed. "I never would have believed it. If I went back 20 years I would never have thought this would be where I was at."
My friend and I were pretty lucky, we were concerned about staying in touch with our old friends. We were mourning the loss of friendship, the loss of the friends that could have been in our lives. I over heard mourning, but not of loss, over what could have been. That is the worst kind of mourning, because it never was.

Free Bread

2008-02-17T19:05:00.002-05:00

After actually making it out of the house with mini-Freddy and arriving at my parent's house, I called my boss. We were in a pretty in depth conversation when I heard two screams. One was distinctively my childs, and the other was my niece.
"Gotta run" I practically hung up the phone. Visions of bodily harm ran through my brain as I sprinted down the hall toward the kitchen.
"He pushed me!" she cried, as my mom scooped her off the floor.
"what happened?" I asked. My son looked down, remained silent. He wouldnt budge. He wouldnt speak, contrary to his usually chatty self.
"If you dont tell me, we wont go to dinner tonite"
more silence. looking down.
"No TV doay then" I said.
"I pushed her by accident." He said.
"Then you need to apologize to her. Go say you are sorry." I said.
"She was trying to rip my coloring book up" he sniffed.
Apparently instigation had ensued.
After an apparently truce, I decided I needed to get out, and call my boss back.
In a frustrated but swift move, I went to Panera to do some work away from home. It was their free wi-fi that drew me in.
I started with coffee, a mug which was refillable and started off as my fourth cup that morning. Lets face it, my nerves were probably already shot.
My brilliant idea to go to panera was thwarted by the fact that the wi-fi wasnt secure and I couldnt use my VPN to log in.
After working on a few organizational tasks, I noticed that lunch time was approaching. I decided that more acidity to my stomach wouldnt hurt and opted for the creamy tomato soup. It came with a baguette, as well as asiago croutons. Slurping my way through the meal, I was also conversing with one of my colleagues from my dietitian job.
"Im in panera" I said. "Happy Birthday by the way"
"Happy birthday to you, what are you doing?"
"working, eating. My coffee always gets cold for some reason before I finish it.
Oh My God, check out that guy. He just took two handfuls of the bread cubes and shoved them in his pocket."
"Gross" she said.
We chatted more.
"Oh my god, he is back, he is taking MORE bread cubes!" two more handfuls, shoved in his pocket.
"Does he need our services?" she asked.
"Maybe, give him a few more panera trips" I answered.
"Flip him a card" she said.
"As if, " I replied. "Wait, I got it! a whole new marketing campaign! We should basically put up brochures and cards at Panera, Au bon pain, Coldstone Creamery....Its brilliant!"
"I dont know..." She hesitated.
If people do that with free bread...

Out the door- Scooooby Dooooo!

2008-02-16T08:11:00.003-05:00

Some days, I work from home and find that one of the most frustrating tasks is just getting out the door. You may ask, 'Why do you need to get out the door if you are working from home?' part of my job involves visiting clients, and sometimes even getting my little one to daycare.
Waking up, I know my priorities. I even have a list in my head of how to get organized. I say motivational things to myself, like "You are going to get out the door by 9, because you will start to get organized at 8."
It doesnt seem to work.
Yesterday, for example, I had to bring my guy over to my mom's because daycare was closed. Apparently a staff development day mid winter was planned. We got started at about 7:45am.
"Mom, I want to dress like Freddy from Scooby-Doo" he said.
"Sure" I said, thanking god that he didnt want to dress up like Daphne,who he as been pining over for the last week.
I picked out a shirt.
"Noooooo. That is NOT what Freddy is wearing." he screamed.
Okay, so now I am at a loss. "What exactly does Freddy wear?"
He got the box of Scooby Doo valentines where Freddy was front and center.
Collared shirt, sweater over it.
"How about this white shirt with a blue sweater" I asked.
"Freddy has a blue shirt with a white sweater!"
Sorry, No white sweaters for a 4 year old, not in the cards!
at about 8:45,we agreed upon the aforementioned outfit, but only after pairing it with tan pants and a blue tie. Thankfully he bought the idea that Freddy's scarf was actually his tie that was 'flipped back'.
After packing up the appropriate tools needed to "solve mysteries" at my mothers house, which included a guitar, a leapster, crayons and a sketch pad, snow boots, and a pair of mittens as well as a pair of gloves, our "mystery machine" was on its way.
at 9:10, while I was warming up the car in the driveway, the phone rang.
"Where are you?" my mother asked.
"In the driveway pulling out" I answered, realizing I have spent an hour and a half battling the demons of scooby doo.
"What is taking you so long??"
Sometimes, when you start explaining things to people without kids, it just doesnt sound the same.

Big SUVs, Small Spaces

2008-02-13T21:15:00.002-05:00

Dear Mr. Large SUV-
When there is a parking space marked "Compact Cars Only", that is because ONLY COMPACT CARS FIT.
When you park in the space, you make it virtually impossible for me to get into my car. When I succeed to get in my car, I need to blindly back out, because I cannot see if another car is coming around your large vehicle.
A former SUV owner, I understand why you may want/need an SUV, but I did take heed of signs recommending where I should or should not park.
But thats just me.

Skippy and the Beamer

2008-02-08T18:38:00.000-05:00

I just need to vent and just be plain bitter.
Today, when visiting an office positioned in the same building as that of a swanky private school's admissions office, I was walking out and notices a strappy lad hop out of his beamer. He kept looking back toward his car.
Why was I annoyed?
Skippy parked his beamer in a handicapped space, with his hazards on.
Afterall,the rules are different for the skippys of the world.

positive reinforcement

2008-02-08T06:49:00.000-05:00

It's funny to say this, but sometimes happiness can come from a few small words from an unexpected source.We almost forget that words can hurt or help despite their original intent. Interpretation is the impact, not the delivery.
I noticed how geeky I act in certain situations, the daycare workers, my friends children, with the younger crowd at work. Trying to be cool, trying to be yourself, not sure how you come across. Its almost like being stuck back in high school, but without the same youthful self confidence.
Pulled over to the side, poaching in an MBTA bus parking spot, awaiting my husband to come off the train, I got a call. I thought it was my husband calling to tell me the train was delayed.
"I'm hungry" I heard from the back seat.
"Eat your yogurt, you were so excited about it" I answered, trying to find the phone in my purse and work bag.
"I dont want it, I want to go to the train check out and get some donuts"
Thankfully, the donut shop was closed.
"Its closed" I answered. "Look for daddy, see if he comes off the train soon"
I found the phone
"Hello" I answered. Deep voice, panic set it, I quickly reviewed the nearest Dunkin donut locations in case of an extended wait time.
"Hi" Surprised, it was one of my best friends children. Obviously the oldest because the voice I almost mistaken for my husband.
"Um, yeah, Im recieving confirmation this year, and um, I wanted to know if you would be my sponsor." he asked,self assuredly.
"Seriously" I answered. Too much Greys Anatomy I suppose.
"yeah"
"Really, you sure?"
"Yeah"
"Oh my God! Yes, I would love to be your sponsor. I cant tell you how much this means to me!" I probably went on, scared the living daylights out of this poor kid with my mushy sentimentality. "I'm like, practically crying here!"
Back seat piped up. "Why are you crying mommy?"
Too much to explain.
"Um, okay, cool. Here is my mom" he said.
we chatted for a few minutes, and the train finally came. I was so excited to have been chosen, from all the family and friends available.
"Guess what!" I said to my husband, who didnt respond. His ipod was on still. Apparently Im cool enough to be a sponsor for confirmation, but my music choices arent cool enough to warrent the ipod coming off immediately.
"What"
"He chose me to be his sponsor!"
"Wow, that is so cool. Do they remember you arent a practicing catholic?" he answered.
hmmmm.
Now that, I wasnt so sure of...

God doesn't like bullys?

2008-02-06T07:32:00.000-05:00

I was at work the other day, though not really AT work, I was working from home and my work phone rang.
I looked down at the caller id and noticed the daycare number.
"crap" I thought to myself. I was hoping the most recent vomit-virus didnt manifest itself in my son.
"Hello?" I answered. Now, normally I answer in my professional voice, but something deep down inside me knew..
"Hi, Its me from daycare."
"Hi, is everything allright" I asked. Praying I didnt have to go pick him up.
"Well, yeah. He was out in the playground today and called another child a Moron."
"Oh my God!" I answered. Genuinely concerned he was going to get kicked out for bullying. Thoughts ran through my head of St. Mary's school, plastered with anti-bullying drawings from their children. 'God doesnt like bullys'. Maybe I was too hasty to judge. Maybe we should have filled out that paperwork asap, despite the ironically aggressive anti-bully campaign.
"Well, thats not why I am calling"
Super, there is more.
"Oh, what else?"
"Well, I asked him where he heard that word. I said, 'did someone call you that word?' and he said, 'Yeah, you did'. I said, 'I did not' and he said, 'yeah, you did' and I wanted to call you and tell you that I didnt call your son a moron"
Now, if you knew this woman, or even saw this woman, you would know that verbally abusing someone elses child would be the last thing you would suspect her of, it was absurd. What struck my funny bone was listening to her argue with a four year old.
"I know where he heard it" I answered, laughing."Last week, on SpongeBob Squarepants. He asked me what the word moron meant and I told him it was not a nice word and he should never use it." Of course, they always listen to their moms, right.
"I know you wouldnt call him that"
"Oh Thank God!"
As I thought about this event, I became more concerned about our new school situation. Public kindergarten. Daycare is more tolerant, since you are paying, and I think the principal is going to have us on speed-dial.

Famous people I would dine with

2008-02-02T19:47:00.000-05:00

Today, I had to go to the bathroom, and you wouldnt believe what was in the toilet.

My husband recently told me that he tends to NOT read anything I write that has anything to do with the bathroom in it. "I just cant read it, its kinda gross"
Now that I have chased him away and he isn't reading this, lets get down to business.

When we were going out, (Back in the day) we would have these incredibly deep conversations. I remember I had a book of questions and we would thumb through it, asking each other probling questions and having lengthy cerebral discussions. Being married for 8 years, I probably know approximately how he would respond to many of those now. Just for fun recently, and I think to vary his usual sports related trivia questions, he asked me
"If you could dine with anyone famous, who would it be?"
The question was immediately answered by my first choice. "Tim Gunn, from Project Runway".
"Really" he answered. "Why? I figured you would pick an actor or actress."
I had thought about it, really. My answer wasnt completely spontaneous.
"Because he is on a reality show, and his character is him, not something written for him. I guess I can't imagine that I would have much in common with an actress or actor who played a part I enjoyed, that wasnt really them"
"Who else?" He asked.
Now this conversation has continued through several car rides. It just seems easier than facing the problem of the new roof we need sooner rather than later.
"I would really like to have dinner with Tina Fey" I said.
"Yeah, she seems pretty cool" he said, "Good choice"
"I would also enjoy dining with Cameron Crowe and his wife, Nancy Wilson. Thats a two-fer" I think a director would be interesting to dine with, because they have perspective. I loved "Almost Famous" and went back and read his original articles in Rolling Stone.
"If I had to pick an actress," I went on, "I would pick Jennifer Garner"
"really?" He asked "Why?"
"She seems pretty normal, you know, shes like my boss, and she has a kid, so she is a mom. She seems pretty normal"
"Musician, who would you pick?" he asked.
"Sheryl Crowe, maybe Elton John or Paul Simon."
"I dont know who I would pick." he answered. "I tend to be more of an introvert. Definately Tim Gunn and Tina Fey."
"We never go out to dinner with friends that we have met AFTER we got married" I realized. "Why is that?"
"We came into the marriage with too much friend-baggage" he said.
I guess discussing who we would dine with is like discussing what you would do with the money if you won the lottery.
Just gives you something to talk about.

Going Collegiate

2008-02-01T14:26:00.000-05:00

A hand raised in the back row. An older student, prematurely gray had a question.
"How does this affect the first pass in the liver?"
Now, why would you ask a question designated for a clinical pharmacist to visiting dietitian lecturer.
"I'm not sure what you are asking." I answered. Mentally I was trying to remember what first pass was, and how that related to gastric bypass.
"With medications, anti-inflammatory" he persisted.
I couldnt let him see me sweat, but I needed to be honest.
"Hold on, I may be answering your question shortly."
I should explain. I have become a lecture slut. My specialty area lends to colleges calling and asking for guest lectures. PAID guest lectures. I seem to never say no, but I seem to always regret it.
No matter the college, I always walk in confident, and leave feeling discombobulated. Maybe it is their youth, their inability to understand that book knowledge isn't the only knowledge, and book knowledge needs to be built upon.
The question surprised me. It reminds me that there is always more to learn. It reminds me that the more I teach, the more I learn.

The Gas light

2008-01-31T09:16:00.001-05:00

"Okay, this morning, we are going to take your car into the city, and mine will go to the train parking lot." I heard my husband say, two sips into my first cup of coffee. "you are teaching that class tonite, so you need your car."
"um, okay" figuing the information would translate a bit better following completion of my double black diamond roast.
Hectic morning, threw on my teaching dress, which is all black. Professional and thinning, who could ask for more from a dress.
"What is the weather going to be like" I yelled from the bathroom, blow drying my hair.
I heard the front door open, he must have stuck his head out. "It feels like 25!"
Well, I was trying to figure out which jacket to wear if it was going to rain, but that at least gave me a clue.
We ran out the door, he in my honda, dropping off the boy at school, me in his car, driving to the train to park the car. The line was long to get into the lot. Having single bills was an omen, I slid easily (but not paralell) into a spot.
He was waiting to pick me up.
"Yeah, my coffee!" as I got into the car.
"Hey, your gas is low." he said.
Well, I worked late last night, my drive home was distracted, so I probably didnt notice.
"I thought i had a quarter of a tank."
I guess i didnt.
We hit Sullivan Square, mired in traffic.
"The gas light went on." It was 7:15. We were way late at this point.
"Crap" I said. Nothing more appropriate seemed to jump into my mind.
"Should we get gas" he asked.
"Yeah, we need it, we will never make it. Put your blinker on, you have to go over"
We made it to the Hess station. I jumped out of the car.
"I need to get breakfast, Im not going to have time to eat, do you want anything?"
"No."
I chose, for some insane reason, powdered donuts. Not looking down, realizing that I have on all black.
"Hey your tire is low." he said
"I told you that" I said
"Last week!"
We jumped in the car, took off. I started eating the donuts.
"These taste like crap." I looked at the label. I also looked down and noticed that I had donut powder down the front of my dress.
No trans fat, thats why.
Off to obesity clinic, late, with powdered donut all down the front of me.
Life couldnt be better.

Kindergarten, continued

2008-01-30T06:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, tours were offered at the fine facilities in our town. Rather than districting children, free school choice is offered. Seriously, the last time I chose a school was college, and I was 18, and grossly misinformed (Or open to suggestions and ironically a victim of good marketing materials)
Unfortunately, I had to work, so my husband took the day to look at schools.
Organized, as if he were leading troops into the desert, he had a list going strong, and occasionally discussed tactics.
"Should I go to the first choices first, or last choices first?" he asked.
"First choices, because what if you run out of time." I replied.
After mapping out first choice schools, complete with directions, ("I dont think I need ursula the GPS") he seemed to have a better picture of the day.
The morning of school visitation arrived. He decided to wear just a shirt and tie, after bantering back and forth about being casual.
"Should I shoot for three or just two?"
"What ever you can do is fine" I said walking out the door, preparing for a fun filled day of food hyjinks.
I later got the call.
" I saw all four!" he exclaimed.
I have to admit, I was psyched. "Whats the verdict?"
"I hated one. I loved two others, and the other was just okay but had some good points."
"Really? Which did you hate?" I asked, my curiosity was peaked. Was it the hippy dippy school?
"Well, I got to the first choice school and was met by an over zealous PTA parent"
he started. "She said, we are ALL stay at home moms, and very involved in the school." Hmmmm, Given that I couldnt even get time off to take the flipping tour of the place, I cant imaging I would fit in there.
he continued.
"We went on to have coffee before the tour."
"Coffee?" I asked.
"Yeah, it was like a high school sorority rush. So I left. I hated it."
"Really? Wow. that was our first choice."
"Well, the one good thing about it was I learned in two years they are re doing the school and all the kids will be farmed out to other schools."
Ah ha. Now that made more sense.
He went on to describe our other top choice, and another school we semi considered. Interestingly, this other school was the farthest away from our home.
Tommorrow night, he will take the little guy on the tour, who will undoubtedly let us know his preference.
Kindergarten choice isnt easy.

TMI

2008-01-30T06:44:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was reminded of my feeble yet awkward attempt at thanking someone for a gift. I wanted to say thank you for the wonderful basket of bath gel and lotion I received for Christmas from the quite-good-looking surgeon with the English accent. Door open, I poked my head into his office, and he was sitting at his desk.
"Hi" I mumbled, more to get his attention.
"Hey, how are you doing?" He swiveled his chair toward me.
"I just wanted to say thank you for the basket. I really loved it."
"That's great. My fiance thought you were just like her, she said 'I bet she likes girly things'"
"Yeah," I said. "I love those lotions because I really have a problem sometimes with smelling." Of course, I couldnt leave it there, for some reason, I had to go on. "Sometimes my deoderant doesnt work. You know, and I smell. I dont know why, my husband sometimes doesnt need deoderant." I realized his jaw dropped, his face fell.
"umm. To much information?" I asked
"yeeeeaaaahh" he awkwardly replied
"Gotta run, I have a patient waiting" I turned and scurried out.
Sometimes you just cant stop yourself from talking. I'm not sure why I felt the need to express my deepest personal hygeine concerns with a virtual stranger. Possibly it was the English Accent.

Fun Stuff-Survey thing

2008-01-25T16:33:00.000-05:00

I have a friend who is insanely fond of the email surveys. I think because he is kinda funny, so he gets a kick out of the shock factor. I decided to post my email survey rather than send it to my email friends, especially those who only hear from me when I need to forward something or I will have 20 years bad luck! Here goes

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE

Nope

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

I think at a St. Jude Commercial

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?

sometimes, its moody

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?

proscuitto

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

One

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?

I guess

7. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?

Yes

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?

NO way

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?

Captain Crunch

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?

no

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?

Occasionally
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?

Moose Tracks

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

Their Hair

15. RED OR PINK?

Pink

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?

Body

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?

Grandmother

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
why not
19. WHAT COLOUR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?

Black pants, black clogs

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?

Bologna sandwich

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?

Norman bitching about something

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOUR WOULD YOU BE? azure.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?

patchoulli

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?\

Ann Marie

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?

Yeah, hes okay

26. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH?

America's top model

27. HAIR COLOUR? Brown

28. EYE COLOUR? hazel

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? absolutely

30. FAVORITE FOOD?

Thai

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy Endings. :)

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?

Knocked up

33.WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?

black and white

34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer

35. HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs

36. FAVOURITE DESSERT?

fruit tart

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? debbie

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? shane

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW Harry Potter last book

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? plain gray

41. DON'T REMEMBER

Huh?

42. FAVORITE SOUND?

ocean!

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?

Beatles

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?

Egypt

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? No

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

Woburn

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
Whoever.

Cut & Paste this into a new e-mail then you can change the answers.

Have Fun

Fine art of half day kindergarden

2008-01-24T18:52:00.000-05:00

In my day, you went to the school that was in your school district. Bragging rights came with the location of the house.
Making our way though the hallways of the soon to be ours house, we heard
"This house is in the Brentwood school district, its the newest and most desirable school" our realtor uttered. Childless, we were thought, 'Whatever, the house is affordable.' Now that we have a child, school choice came about and mayhem has ensued.
We can choose our child's school. It can be anywhere in the city, no matter where you live, apparently you just have to get them there.
My neighbor said to me, while we were shoveling snow "The Fox glen school is the best, according to my friends because its in the country club area, but Im going for the brentwood."
Truth be told, we tried for the charter, but ended up 270 on the list, and there were 120 spots and our spot on the waiting list was impossible. Honestly, it has free kindergarten.
Dutifully my husband attended an open house for parents, that introduced the schools. Each school has a "flavor" and the principals spoke. He was quite impressed with one school we hadnt previously considered.
"How'd it go?" I asked him, driving home from work.
"Well, about a half hour was dominated by the parents of kids who want half day kindergarden."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"They want to advertise the half day kindergarden more as an option, apparently, they want to put a referendum on the ballot."
For kindergarden? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was looking forward to dealing with this for the next 12 years.
"They want people to spend more time at home with their kids. They were also complaining of the 2500.00 cost for the full day kindergarden"
They must not be paying for daycare!
We talked about the different schools with our son. "This weekend, lets go look at the schools and maybe their playgrounds." My husband said. "What school do you want to go to most?" he asked.
"Saint Mary's" He said. "They have a library."
If only it was that easy!

a day of bad toilets

2008-01-22T12:48:00.000-05:00

I suppose my day can be measured by the fact that each time I enter the bathroom, choose a stall, I find crap in the toilet! I suppose this is a common occurrence, but not often talked about, much like the early days of erectile dysfunction or feminine itching for that matter.
I have varied bathrooms, those with multiple stalls, and single toilet ones. I have varied locations, one end of the hospital to the other. Three times today, I have had that experience. I suppose its bad toilet karma, or just slobby co workers that cant seem to find the flush handle.
To combat this issue, automatic flushing toilets were developed, but I have found that they are either flush too early, causing balance problems with the rush of air or, they freeze up, and decide not to flush. I have been left to ponder in the stall for about ten minutes watching the toilet, dancing around trying to see if my varied movement will make it flush. Finally, I find the small button, that finally causes the flush and head for the door. Unfortunately, the toilet flushes again, as I open the door, thus leading people to believe the original flush was a "courtesy flush" and my time pondering was actually otherwise spent.
I have decided that there is no good way to combat the bad toilet experience, other than education. We just got a bonus for washing our hands last quarter, maybe this quarter can be toilet flushing.

Parallel parking

2008-01-19T08:50:00.001-05:00

As a native Bostonian, I pride myself in the ability to park in the trickiest of spaces, almost effortlessly. Honestly, when you work in the city, and a free or 10 hour meter spot becomes available, you rise to the occasion. Yesterday, two of my friends came up from Atlanta Georgia looking for a home to buy. Both grew up below the Mason Dixon line, but did spend some time up north, so I have to give them some credit. After a fun afternoon of looking at some gorgeous, but slightly overpriced awkwardly located Victorians, we had a bit of a layover until the next appointment.
"Coffee" one said.
"Absolutely" I thought.
We found a lovely coffee shop in Winchester, a fairly quiet suburb. It had two open parking spaces right in front of it.
"Score!" I thought, in my civic, as their rental Hundayai pulled into one. I pulled up, ready to slide in to the space. The large SUV to my right, had other plans. Apparently, waiting for me to park was too much for him, and he needed to get out of his space immediately. He turned his car and pulled forward. I was placed in an awkward position, too far up. I pulled back so he could pull out.
I pulled up again, ready to pull in, but I was angled too far forward. I pulled back, tried to straighten up, but ended up on the sidewalk. My friend got out and tried to guide me in. I got stuck on a snow bank.
"Let me pull you in" he said.
GOd, I was mortified. Absolutely not! We are in the SUBURBS for crying out loud.
I tried again. At this point, my wheels were spinning, stuck in a snowback on the sidwalk.
His wife got out of the car. SHe had her hands on my trunk pushing me back.
A bystander got involved. He was doing something, I wasnt sure what. I think he might have even been a tourist.
Finally we got the car in.
We entered the pastry shoppe, a quaint, quiet place and were greeted by all 5 employees.
"Did you finally make it in?" They asked. "We were all pressed up against the window watching" one said.
"Yeah, the people across the street at Century 21 were also looking" the other said.
"I mean, we would have helped but it looked like you had 5 other people involved and frankly we didnt know what you were trying to do"
"Decaf for her" one of my friends said.

Reading at bear rock

2008-01-19T08:32:00.000-05:00

My son has expressed interest in reading, though I think he has quite a few sight words as he often surprises us by identifying items by the tag. Last week, we went to Dunkin Donuts after gymnastics, because he wanted a "blueberry bagel with cream cheese." As we entered, he looked at the rows of bagels behind he counter.
"See Mom, they have blueberry bagels, on the first row, I told you!"
Thinking that I couldnt identify a blueberry from a cinnamon raisin from 15 ft, I asked, "How did you know that?"
"It says it right there, blue berry"
Okay.
Last night, we went out to dinner. It was a friday night, after all and I certainly wasnt cooking after my harrowing parking experience. (separate post) We went to one of our favorite family spots, which has gone upscale by adding a Jazz Trio on a Friday night. You guessed it, the Bear Rock Cafe. We ordered our food, but didnt get one of the seizure inducing coasters that normally alerts us our food is ready. Apparently these devices merely deter the cruise ship like atmosphere we all know and love.
A woman was frantically circling the restaurant with trays of food, stopping at tables that may or may not have ordered the rock slide sandwich. It seemed slightly disorganized, but I didnt comment immediately.
My son decided he wanted to read the menu.
"What does this say mom?" He asked. He was pointing to the bear rock Logo.
"Well, lets identify the letters and see if we can sound it out" I answered.
"Okay, he said"
"B....E.....A......R......pawprint.....R.....O......C.......K"

? Pawprint?

Back Talk

2008-01-18T06:54:00.000-05:00

In trying to help out, sometimes you get the brunt of someone's anger. Interestingly, this anger tends to manifest itself on the surface, but it really represents something deep, down in side, that has been brewing longer than you can fathom.
Due to scheduling needs, I start work a bit later one day, and utilize a less than convenient space. Though it is accessible, it can be a bit tiresome to reach. The other day, I came to work about a half hour before my shift, which I do in order to get myself organized, have some coffee, you know the drill.
Frantically, my beeper went off. And went off. A client arrived, but arrived upstairs, not in the correct location. The front desk endured some verbal abuse, so I poked my head out to the waiting room. I saw four people, two that had issues with mobility, all were obese, which made it more difficult to have them travel to the other location.
Rather than inflicting travel on them, I scrambled to get a room to see them all in. Now, where I work, you are more likely to get an appointment with the hospital president than find space in a busy clinic, especially if you aren't an MD. But, we managed.
"Why doesnt she know what she is doing" I heard her angry family member say to the front desk. It is still 5 minutes before the apppointment.
One of the admins decided to help me out and bring them to the room while I gathered the appropriate paperwork.
"She doesnt know what she is doing" Again.
"Why doesnt the front desk know where we are suppose to be and who we are?" Mainly because the clinic has nothing to do with us, it was the wrong location.
I arrived in the room, on time I might add, to experience cold anger. The client was fine, it was the family members who were angry.
"Why werent we told the right place" She yelled.
"Do you have your paperwork with the location written on it?" I asked "Because we can then find out if the incorrect location was on there, and we can follow up with the person who wrote it"
"Its at home"
Which led me to believe that they just showed up at the docs office expecting to be at the right place.
An hour and 15 minutes later, I got through the appointment. Deflecting anger.
"What am I suppose to feed her?"
"we have to diet with her, right." The source of the anger reared its ugly head.
"I always yell at her for snacking while gambling on the computer" enough said.
My night continued at my group, where a smart alik (and I use that term when I would prefer to use another) arrived. First group, partner taking notes. At each topic, sometimes sentence, her hand was raised. We were talking about dining out.
"Well, what about cottage cheese, can we eat that?"
"Why yes, I recommend that often"
"What about the texture, it's mushy" she badgered. "In speaking with the doctor, he said no mushy foods"
"We pair it was something bulky" I answered.
She began answering others questions, a know it all I might add, who may know just enough, but not enough. It was tiresome. As luck would have it, one of my post op clients was present and I asked him to chime in. It took me forever to get through the information.
"You know" He said, "These questions you ask could be better answered either in the support group, or at your one on one with the dietitian"
Somehow I limped through the group. Emotionally drained from my earlier encounter, and badgered and emotionally beaten in front of 30 others.
"Why was she so condescending" a patient came up after group and asked.
I didnt know, but I was concerned because the disruption led to less learning for the others.
"Are you mad at me for asking too many questions?" She asked after the group. "I mean, in speaking with the doctor, you should know for people like us its the last hope"
"I have been working in this specialized field for 8 years, I understand" and I let it go.
I spoke with the Doctor the next day.
"Oh, I know her, she is a psychiatrist who specializes in health care workers who have undergone trauma."
And that took my breathe away.
Why would she want to inflict that emotional abuse on me?

Hump Day

2008-01-14T15:44:00.000-05:00

Most recently we went to a post christmas get together at a relative of my husband, which reminded me of a wicked funny story about how I met my husbands extended family.
Fancying myself as a dog person, I was excited to go over to his uncles house, hearing that he had a very large and show quality newfoundland. In hindsight, "show quality" is probably what should have clued me in. Wearing a pink cable short sleeve sweater and white shorts (No, I dontknow what I was thinking either but these details are fairly important) I felt like I was appropriately dressed for the occasion. We pulled up to a large victorian, lots of people had already arrived. Normally, Im okay in a crowd once I get my bearings. I was a bit nervous because I really liked this guy and wanted to make a decent impression on his family. When nervous, I revert back to the things I feel most comfortable with, animals being one of them. A large, minimum 150 pound Newfie was in a very large crate positioned in the foyer. He looked pretty calm.
"Hey, can I play with the dog?" I asked one of my husband's redheaded relatives.
"Uh, Yeah, okay. His name is Ollie" he said, taking a long sip from his beer. My husband stood next to him, they were chatting about either baseball or football, whatever sports was on the TV.
"Hey Ollie" I said, coaxing him out. He came out, lied down in front of me, wanting his belly scratched. He was black and white, not shaved recently so very hairy, like a big bear.
He was sweet, rolled around, got his belly rubbed. Then I made a critical mistake.
I got up.
Ollie didnt like that. Not one bit. As I started to stand up, Ollie jumped up and decided to start humping me. Now, I was about 130 at the time, and he was easily 150. There I was, in the middle of a family party, stuck under a very large, black and white dog, being humped in plain view.
"Help" I tried to yell. I was laughing at the same time because frankly, I knew what I looked like.
"Do you think we should help her" My husband's red headed cousin asked.
"Yeah, I guess so"
And they got the dog off me, he was sent back to his crate. Though our love affair was short lived, I had black Ollie fur all over me for the rest of the party. I am now legendary at parties, being "the one Ollie humped."
It's nice to be thought of as hot, even if its a dog that thinks so.

Dog Troubles

2008-01-13T09:40:00.001-05:00

This morning, in the shower, I realized that time alone in a warm shower is cherished. Nobody yelling, nobody needing anything, just me and the water.
Until I got my dog.
Most recently, I was happily showering, and screamed because I got a cold nose on the back of my leg. Two paws up on the side of the tub, the head peering in.
Sometimes I feel a cold breeze diluting the huge fog cloud of warmth and silence I have created. I know she has entered.
"Can you shut the door, Puleeeez?" I typically yell.
As a joke, my husband came in and said,
"Go ahead, good girl, go ahead"
Yes the dog jumped in the shower.
I have a hound, who seemingly enjoys the water.
I seem to have a hound who apparently needs the water a certain temperature.
She hates the rain, she hates the cold. Going outside is apparently only for play.
She prefers to go to the bathroom, IN the bathroom.
I have stocked up on bath rugs.
Im trying to figure out how to teach her to use the toilet.

Girls, Girls, Girls

2008-01-11T17:03:00.000-05:00

My hairdresser is on the Lam.
I got a call last week letting me know my appointment needed to be rescheduled from last friday. I called back and was rescheduled for today.
"He should probably be back"

In the meantime, I walked into a meeting on Monday.
"You look good." My colleague said.
"Seriously, look at my hair. I need a hair cut."
"Okay" he said, "you look good, you always say you look bad"
"I haven't looked good since 1987"
It got me thinking....

This morning, I got a call on my cell.
"Do you want the good news, or bad news" my husband asked. "bad news first" I said.
"Your appt with your hairdresser is cancelled, apparently he isnt back and needs a few more days off"
"And the good news?" I asked realizing that it is pouring rain, and my barette isnt really holding my wet hair.
"Some guy can cut your hair today if you are desperate."
That was me in a nutshell.
When I got there, he told me that my usual hairdresser hasnt been heard from in over a week. I over heard the owner talking with a client who happened to work for HR.
"What should we do? He hasnt even picked up his paycheck"
Blowdryer, missed the answer. I explained the problem.
"I have too much hair. I have too many cowliks, I have to tuck it behind my ears, I need bangs, but I want length. See this picture, I like this, but not that, but some of this" He began chopping away. Artfully I might add.
I walked in the door.
My husband started singing, "Girls Girls, Girls"
"You look like Nikkisixx" He said.
Apparently its 1987.

A shower

2008-01-11T09:08:00.000-05:00

I am that person. The one who enjoys,(lets get real-LOVES) the stinky, smelly, bath gels and lotions. I have a few favorites I enjoy, one that included a lecture from my supervisor at a previous job.
"Are you wearing patchoulli?" she asked
"Yes, I love that smell."
"Im not sure the 70 year old patients appreciate their dietitian smelling like pot"
I thought they might if their appetite was down, but I didnt say anything.
It was taken out of rotation.
One of my favorites, and apparently everyone else over the age of 70 who have grandchildren needing a christmas gift to give them, is Vitabath. The pink one. My obsession began when my son won a raffle basket from the Son's of Italy where my mother in law is a member.
For those of you who know me, you are most likely wondering why two red headed irish people and a korean went to this banquet, while the italian was working, but with kids, its all about keeping them busy.
He won a bath basket that contained age old Dove products and vitabath. The Dove smelled a bit off, but the vitabath had me when the cap came off.
I loved it. I researched it. It seems to be available only at JC Penney. It went right on my Christmas list, where it stayed because apparently they ran out the first week of December. I was sad. I pondered, "What is the real meaning of Christmas?" I used my back up bath gel and lotion, but pined for the vitabath.
Somehow, after Christmas I ended up at a mall in NH. JC Penney. Yeah! I ran with my friend, right over to the smelly lotion section. The smelly stuff was 50% off! Yeah! It was my lucky day.
Not so much. It wasnt there. They had blue, they had green, I think I saw another color but Im sure it was the tears blurring my vision.
"They have a pink bar of soap" my friend tried desparately to console me.
"Not the same." I sniffed.
"What does this smell like, for crying out loud, if you are so into it" She opened the package and sniffed.
"Jeez, it smells like an old lady!"
Case in point, but I still loved it.

A Room with the Food

2008-01-10T18:21:00.000-05:00

It recently occurred to me that EVERY time I have a weight loss group, the occupants in the room before me have food. Not just desserts, full out meals,sterno included.
Last night there was a last minute room change, my group was herded up to the new room.
To my surprise (or horror, or not so much surprise) the back table was filled with food. Grilled chicken, rice, salads, fruit and some pretty darn big cakes. side note: Knowing a good thing, we did salvage an untouched boston creme cake, which I will elaborate on further.
My weight loss patients lined up and began serving themselves food. The sight brought up a confusing mix of emotions. I wasnt sure if it was more disturbing that my weight loss patients were at the buffet, or that they were eating food that was sitting out for who knows how long.
They sat down with their plates ready to listen to me.
Oddly enough, about eating out.
As I dug into my piece of Boston creme cake, and relished the perfect ratio of spongy cake to creme to dark chocolate, I thought about it. I wasnt sure why that food automatically seems to appear when for my groups.
Maybe it was kharma.

True Hollywood Story

2008-01-08T14:57:00.000-05:00

I listened to THS; Britney Spears this morning on my way to work. What suprised me most was that hindsight is, in fact, 20/20.
What aggravated me most was how her family was showing "Lots of support" and that got me thinking, what exactly is support for someone who is continually making bad decisions?
Why I am blogging about this is beyond me.

Crazy Dreams

2008-01-04T08:45:00.000-05:00

I was at a hotel, presumably at a dietitian thing because one of my former colleagues was there. (She does tend to travel alot, so it may not have been a dietitian thing)
I got a call from John Carbonara, the comedian.
"You have to fill in for me tonite" he said. "Do my show" No negotiation.
"Im not a comedian." I said
"You will do fine"
I stressed out, all night. Read through his comedy cheat sheets, old material.
The phone rang, it was him.
"got anything good?" He asked.
"no" I replied. "You have to do this show, I cant do it, Im a dietitian"
"you will do fine" dial tone.
Flash forward, walking out on stage. Lights were blinding, stool in the center of the stage with a glass of water perched on top and the microphone next to it. Picking up the mike, I addressed the audience.
Silence. Dead silence.
The heat of the lights beat down on me, my whole body breaking out into a sweat.
It must have been the electric blanket. I woke up.
Not well rested, but relieved that I didnt really have to perform.
"jump in, just do it, you can handle it" every day.
The dream must just be the inner toll its taking.

Potty Training Common Sense

2008-01-03T13:58:00.000-05:00

My niece is potty training. Not with enthusiasm, but she is only two, so she is merely contemplating the potty training thing. At my mom's house, she went in the bathroom and sat on the toilet. My four year old went in with her.
"I'm not sure she will do anything" My mom said.
"Lets ask him, he will tell us"
We asked the four year old, "Is there anything in the toilet?"
He replied, " No mom, there is just ass in the toilet"

Welcome Fish

2008-01-02T19:49:00.000-05:00

I neglected to mention we have three new fish in our tank.
Gold fish of course.

Welcome to:
Ruby Redheart

Maximum Banana

Stella Luna

I didn't name them. However, their names is how my son named the blog.

An American Idol Christmas

2008-01-02T08:26:00.000-05:00

We called because we were going to be late. Not that late, I might add, just 15-20 minutes. Usually not that big a deal.
We had opened our gifts, went to my friends house, opened gifts there, and were slated for arrival for dinner at a relatives house for 2:00. Again, this is the same relative's home where you arrive at 2, you MAY eat at 2, or you may eat at 5. Who knows.
We arrived to the sound of loud singing, into a scratchy microphone. My parents were spralled out on the couch, my mother with her hand on her forehead signifying a big, bad headache. My father just looked beaten.
The big Christmas present was Wii, High school musical sing along. And they were happying singing (?) along.
About an hour later, I went into the kitchen to check on dinner. A frazzled cook announced that the other dinner guests wouldnt be here until 3:30 and they were apparently bringing appetizers.
The singing continued.
I tried to hint. "was Santa on Crack?"
it wasnt put away so the guests could enjoy some conversation.
The other guests arrived at 3:30, one with a raging GI bug, running to the bathroom with diarrhea almost hourly.
Why would you come? For the ham, which wasnt ready until 4:30?
For the cheesy potatoes or the asparagus encrusted with cheese, in hope of a constipating affect?
The singing continued, I pretty much got the lyrics down at this point, the dance moves were my next challenge.
We finally got done with dinner at about 6, and opened gifts after that.
Of course, my gift was apparently lost in the chaos, though I did get the option of taking the sales reciept for the gift card to the store to claim the gift card was lost.
I now thought the host was on crack.
Merry Christmas I suppose.

The Era of Bad, Bad Gifts

2007-12-31T11:10:00.000-05:00

I'll admit, its been awhile. My sabbatical was fueled by my lack of interest in continuing posting as an RD, finding other, more satisfying things to write about.
Christmas, it seems, provides no loss for material, and I believe this topic will encompass several posts. For now, let us focus on the fine art of giving.
Excitedly, I went to work, wondering what this year's gifts from the group would bring. The whittling down of our staff to three, seemingly bumped me up the next level. More accurately, my boss left, I had a feeling I would get her gifts this year. A "pre-re-gifting" as it would seem.
I should preface this with the fact that I was not creative. Seriously. I bought everyone the same thing. LLbean (soon to name a store in my honor) blue fitness fleeces, 19.95. They all got the same color, in case of a photo op, they were prepared. Struggling with a GI bug, hearing the constant reminder from my friend that to them, my gift was merely a token, I mouse-clicked away.
Oddly enough, they actually liked them, and I got the LLbean coupons for spending. A Christmas win-win as it would seem.
Three identical large brown, boxes (wrapped in brown- not brown cardboard) were lined up on the bench. Hmmmm. My counterpart and I each recieved one graciously.
We also received identical red wrapped boxes, of the clothing variety from another person. My favorite gift came in a big Christmas bag, oddly enough from one who does not celebrate Christmas. My office mate got the same bag and did edit my present to a different scent. (with my permission of course) Lastly, a huge box came my way, awkward to carry, but interesting looking, none the less.
I opened the artfully wrapped brown box, which did in fact, have a brown cardboard box inside.
Immediately I emailed my counter part.
"did you open your gifts?"
"not yet." she replied.
*Bing* Another email popped up.
CALL ME.
I did. We laughed. We laughed so hard, we couldnt stop to even ask for the answer to the long awaited question. "What the fuck is this?"
It was a tree. A glassish, ceramic-ish, artsy tree.
I turned it, it wasnt a cookie jar, it didnt open.
It looked too small to be a center piece, and frankly, it looked unbalanced to be an end table decoration.
We scoured crate and barrel, pottery barn, nordstroms and every place else looking for clues. Last year we got a potted plant, artfully wrapped from Stonewall kitchens. I killed that in two short months. I wonder if she knew.
Honestly, it was nice, if that was your taste, and you knew what to do with it. The worst part was that she probably spent a bundle on it.
We decided that once our third counterpart got hers and opened it, we would get them together and make a forest, for lack of any other purpose.
Our next gift was cute, dish towels and a soap dish. Perfect for the holidays.
The big bag was nice, girly soaps and lotions. I originally had orange, but you cant smell like fruit and counsel about eating, now can you? I got the lavender.
My last gift was the funniest. It was an ice cream maker. I had an ice cream maker, back in the day, and deftly spend 12.00 on ingredients to make ice cream. Ben and Jerrys was cheaper, and probably a lot better.
Why is this the funniest gift?
1. The giver is a weight loss surgeon. Was it a shameless ploy to generate business, or an odd attempt at family fun?
2. My child is lactose intolerant. Yes, milk and ice cream are out. Meaning, it likely was an odd attempt.
Luckily, it had the receipt and was returned to the high end kitchen store it was purchased at and traded in for a really cool kitchen clock, a pair of "Ov gloves" and some slippers that have a microfiber mop on the soles.
It's pretty easy going into christmas with no expectations. Though I should have a no gift policy for the season, what would I have to laugh about?

Ursula Dont Fail me now!

2007-11-21T08:30:00.000-05:00

In a marked attempt to expedite my travels, I got a GPS. Rather than trusting my instinct, I listened to the Target employee and bought the less expensive one. Rather than having the soothing Garmin English accented voice coaching me through the perilous streets of the city, I now have a bitchy, sometimes aggravated woman telling me to turn onto a one way street. Apparently Magellen wasn't much of a traveller.
How did this happen?
I named her Ursula, the name of a Disney witch or two, because it fit. I now find my talking to her, explaining that I am going in circles. Asking her why I am getting on a toll road when I need to scrape the bottom of my purse for change. My book of city maps lying on the floor, looking more and more attractive.
Ursula uses my ciggarette lighter. She is usurping it from my satellite radio. I find myself even more resentful that I no longer can listen to the comedy channel or the E entertainment channel during my longer journeys.
I want to make it work.
I suppose some relationships just need to be taken at face value!

What they REALLY say about you

2007-11-10T10:48:00.000-05:00

Halloween was a blast but I noticed when picking up the little guy at school for trick or treating down Main Street, a group of moms were meeting. Their meeting was not serendipitous, but preset. I looked over and said hello, and they invited me along.
Sounds pretty harmless, right? Not so fast. The invite came with a statement.
"You look lonely today, where is your entourage?"
Adrian Grenier's face flashed in front of my eyes, then reality hit, unfortunately, that wasnt my entourage. (No offense to my friends!)
"Huh?" I didnt realize I was entourage worthy, but played along.
"You always have your group of friends with you when we see you." She went on.
"I guess." Thinking about it, I did and this probably explains why the other moms never called for a play date or play group.
I went along with the group, we had a great time. Walking home, with my little guy tucked safely into his new radio flyer wagon, I thought about it for a second.
I wasnt hurt, I wasnt upset, I guess I'm just a townie.

The Power of Personality (disorder)

2007-10-09T21:16:00.001-04:00

I was watching Criminal minds recently where they artfully described a borderline personality. It was meaningful because I had a run in with an irate person recently, that just seemed to throw me for a loop. After criminal minds, and with no apparent training in psychiatry, I took the liberty to diagnose the person with a borderline personality.
The reason this is such an important diagnosis for me to recognize is because of the havoc it wreaked on my work life. Since this blog is for entertainment purposes only, I promise to spare you the details of the encounter, suffice it to say that this person yelled and screamed, for the injustice I apparently performed. Typically I would wallow in self blame, apologize profusely,beat myself up, but is 15 minutes is worth the ripple effect this event seems to have created?
The event seemed to have caused me to emotionally kick back. In looking for support, I was teary and upset, not wanting to harden. The client involved the MD, the office staff and my supervisor. "You should have" was spoken out loud, because monday morning quarter backing is simple. The drama was intensified by those who had similar interactions, emotions stirred up, but nothing solved. Why sometimes are those who care or are trying to help subjected to verbal abuse? Why is it easier for someone to abuse someone not in the position to give it back? Why do we remember 90% of the negative and less of the positive?
I recently saw a post on a message board asking readers if they ever "fired" a healthcare worker. Reading the posts was amazing. There seemed to be a delicate balance between timeliness, good patient care, and communication. Posters ranted, raved and "spoke out" about how they fired their healthcare worker for being late, taking free samples from drug reps, or just didnt feel attended to appropriately.
There was not one email from a healthcare provider that outlined the challenges faced during the course of the day. Tight schedules, late arrivals, wrong times on appointments,emergencies squeezed in, calls to return, emails that need immediate respones, productivity, complications, handouts to develop, its all there. Healthcare is now a business, but the average person isnt able to understand this concept. Why? Healthcare is marketed as kind, caring, cooperative.
If google is right, the borderline personality percieves something as either black or white, good or evil. The atmosphere in health care is gray, good patient care, good productivity, shorter time for the encounter, more intense patient needs.
It is no wonder we struggle, borderline or not.

20 minutes with a stranger going in circles

2007-09-21T06:44:00.000-04:00

The other day I was packing my car up and heard a small voice ask me, "Do you know this garage well?"
I didnt really, but I probably needed to help her.
"I lost my car, I cant find it"
"Okay," I said, lets walk together. We walked around the garage a bit.
It wasnt a big garage, but it was dark, and a bit disorienting. I have to admit, I pretty much parked in the same exact place each time so I wouldnt have to go looking for my own car.
She was huffing a bit. A little short of breath.
"Why dont you get in my car and I will drive you around. I showed her my ID from the hospital.
"Would you mind?" she said. "Let me pay you"
"Absolutely not"
We started to drive around, slowly. There was another young woman walking aimlessly as well.
"She looks lost too. See, it happens to the best of us"
"It is in an alcove, were a few cars are parked, three to be exact" She said. Hmm.
The garage was built as a series of small alcoves.
"The plate has 8's in it" She said on our second time around. "And the car's nose was forward"
I was looking for this green car, navigating the garage.
"It was in a place where there were workmen with gardening things.
I started to worry. We were in an underground garage. there was no sign of the car, and we had been around the garage at least once.
"IM really nervous because my husband has a dentist appointment and I have to get him there. He is fighting multiple myeloma. Today is a medical day for us"
I found out she worked as an acting teacher and her husband was a professor.
I was at a loss as to where the car was at this point and silently wondered if she had dementia.
"I really had a car, Im not crazy I swear" She said, almost like she was reading my mind.
"Lets go out of the garage and come back in, you can retrace your steps" I suggested. Frankly, I was at a loss.
We went out and came in. Luckily this was a free garage.
"I went in and went left, I went left again." She said. Sure enough, there was a hidden left for additional cars, only about 6 of them.
"There it is!" She shouted. She was so excited we found the car. She wanted to pay me, wanted my name and address. I said no, I just hoped that if it were myself or my mother, that someone would do the same for me.
She jumped out, got in her car.
I turned around and noticed the gated cage for all the fertilizer and gardening materials. She was right.
I beeped as I drove off. She waved and blew me kisses from behind the wheel.
I felt good, even though my day was detoured by a half hour.
Its not often you can do something so simple to help someone.
Kharma.

Insomnia

2007-09-10T19:05:00.000-04:00

I have been plagued by insomnia recently, likely due to my inordinate amount of caffienated beverages.
Nothing I can fix easily, since we bought a new single cup coffee maker that tends to make weak coffee. Yes, I have been overcompensating by drinking 3 cups of coffee, rather than 2.
One thing I noticed with insomnia, other than the bad TV programs, are the thoughts that keep surfacing, over and over, like a gerbil racing on a wheel. Typically, the thoughts are less than erudite, mostly mundane.
First, I posed the question to my self why there is such a delay in the new episode premiers.
I personally cant watch the same law and order over again, when I know there are at least a thousand episodes from the past on TNT. I noted that I have come to watch these reality shows like, "Rock of Love" and "Sunset Tan" and generally have embarassing moments wanting to chat about them with my contemporaries.
Secondly, I wondered what possessed Britney Spears to wear that sequined bikini, or whatever it was. She seems to be at that awkward stage of wanting to dress like a teen, but having more of an adult body. We all go through that stage because we really want that 18 year old body back.
Thirdly, whatever happened to the news? I use to watch the news and actually get something out of it, but recently noted that there are more "fluff pieces" and commentaries from the anchors than there is actual news. Go figure. My mother recently made a comment about a friend who visited Tanzania, "we only know what they tell us about places like that." Which was really an interesting observation.
Finally I took a flexoril, which was a bad thing to do because I previously needed them for back pain. Though I drifted off into a lovely sleep, the next day was frought with a sense of being dissociated. Just kinda spacey.
They say we need less sleep with aging, but Im not so sure.

Delay

2007-09-09T08:30:00.000-04:00

If anyone has attended a child's birthday party, they realize that parents are generally considerate in planning. Most parties are about 2 hours long, involve a rigorous schedule of games or play, then "happy birthday, cha cha cha" and cake. Presents may or may not be opened at the party, but due to ensuing chaos, most parents politely wait until after the party.
Yesterday we had the pleasure of attending a birthday party that started at 3p and dinner was at 4p. As a family, we bantered about the appropriate meal time that would induce the appropriate hunger response at the awkward snow-bird dinner hour. At last years party, we ate at noon, thinking food would be at 5 or 6, only to find out it was served at 3p. To avoid this problem, I believe we ate at 11a, a light meal.
Upon entering, we sat in the living room where the older children were playing Wii. A game that involved correctly preparing a recipe and winning points at each step. My husband and I were equally perplexed, wondering how 8-13 year olds can enjoy a game that involved cooking. Seriously, I relish grilling season given that I hate to cook as it is. I wondered if Wii will introduce a game that involved doing laundry, or cleaning your room. The game looked interesting initially, yet after 4 hours of continually watching it, I was a bit put out.
We did eat promptly at 4p. An hour and a half after dinner, we were looking for the cake. Apparently one of the guests husbands was going to be late, so he hostess didnt want to put the food away
"I dont want to be rude".
So we all waited.
And waited.
In my head, I was thinking of the almost hour long commute, the looming thunder storms, and the poor dog home alone.
"Gimme the cake" I was frustrated.
He finally showed up at about 6:15, apparently the 4p mass ran late. This man and his wife sat down to dinner at the kitchen table. They ate slowly, as if they were at a restaurant, oblivious to the fact that there were fourteen others waiting, half being kids who were starting to turn the house upside down.
"Maybe they are saying grace" my husband added.
My son made his way to their cabinet and found some candy and promptly asked if he could have some. This lead to the rebellion of 8 kids and one box of Lik-M-Sticks.
The couple still ate. I think at this point, he went for seconds.
Then reality struck.
We didn't have ice cream.
Though this may seem like a trajic event to all others, my lactose intolerant son was not phased. He was actually enjoying the sugar, which I knew would throw a curve into his sleeping habits.
The husband went to get ice cream
We still waited. At least they finished eating.
We were still watching the cooking show, the kids were still playing.
Finally the ice cream arrived and we got started. Cake, then presents. The birthday girl was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open when we turned the lights off to sing.
We left at about 8p.
The effort to preserve this couple's dinner amazed me. Not only because they didnt have a child in the age range of the party, but because they expected it.
Why would you keep 14 others waiting, and not put a plate aside?
As children, we looked so forward to parties. I remember being so excited to be invited to a party. As adults, birthday parties are a mixture of pleasure and pain. Pleasure because you get wear your kid out and likely get quiet time when they nap or go to bed early. Pain because its just that, there is no other way to describe it.

Fore things I learned about golf

2007-09-08T09:40:00.000-04:00

Working a work-related golf tournment yesterday led me to observe a few things. Since I didn't golf, being anatomically challenged and all, I drove the cart around providing beverages to all. First, everyone is so much more relaxed on the golf course, and generous I might add. Maybe it was the company, but when we showed up with the sodas, everyone had their wallet out. Of course, drinks were provided, and they were looking for the tip jar. Clearly I was short on planning.
Secondly, there were groups that were uber serious,concentrating, requiring silence. Others cruised around boisterously, happily chatting, enjoying the moment. The concentration quotient or gregariousness didn't translate into positions or job responsibilities. I supose there are truly other facets to the personalities we encounter on a day to day basis.
Thirdly, there is something to be said about getting together as a work unit outside of work. There were all levels of ability, but it was all about the fun and getting to know each other. Good food didnt hurt either. Not only did I meet tons of new people that I work with, I saw their softer, sociable sides. I know now I could easily curbside Dr. X with a question about something, or call the IT guy Y and have my computer fixed.
Lastly, my patients would say, "I golf" when asked about exercise. I would almost scoff, noting that golf seemed more like a game than a sport. I do know now there is a huge difference between walking a course and driving it. However, when I got home, I not only needed a shower, but a good nights sleep. I was definately fried,
and I didnt golf!
Golf wasnt so bad, but it wasnt really the focus. It was the people.

Flowers for a cause

2007-09-06T17:51:00.000-04:00

It is interesting how intricately intertwined the feelings of hurt and anger are, and how closely apathy follows. The situation may be running smoothly, like the tires of a race car working in tandem, until one tire eventually succumbs to the heat of the track. Initially it slowly sinks in, the rubber pads the axle, until it slides out from under as quickly as it blew. Sparks fly, and everything stops. The emotions run from fear to anger, then despair. It's not that the tire was defective, or not doing the job, It just took the heat. It wasn't the lucky one, or was it?
Is that what we are really meant to be doing, going in circles? What is the fascination, what is the challenge and most importantly, where do we go from here? Its easy to say the race track represents the journey, but its so much deeper than that. The simplicity at first glance reminds us that certainly there is more to it, otherwise we could all be champions. In nature, flowers represent the onset of spring, a new life, a new challenge.
It is easy to forget the simple beauty of a flower. The bold color, the many petals remind us that though our journey may be circular in nature, there are different detours we can take, to avoid the monotony. I got flowers today, bundled together by a simple elastic. I smiled. So simple appearing, so intricate in reality, and nothing we can duplicate.

Green=Go

2007-09-05T21:38:00.000-04:00

The students are back.
Working in the city, moving about, attempting to drive, it's easy to understand why it's just harder to get around, and it's only been a week.
Student involvement in the traffic back up is first most evident in the clusters gathered at the traffic pole. Underdressed, overdressed, dressed to make a first impression, they stand awkwardly. It could be the backpacks, or pristine book bags weighing them down in one direction or another. The newness of the accessory screams, 'I havent quite figured out how exactly to be collegiately laid back.' or even, 'where do I fit in, should I care?'
Tentatively they look up at the light, over to the crossing light, and back at the driver. "should I cross?"
Other students, albiet the greener ones on bikes, jump the red light and move through the intersection. Their minor, environmentally conscious traffic violation contributing to the traffic by confusing the drivers with the green light.
I sit idling in my car. Pissed off. Looking at the kid with the brown shirt that proclaimed "COCKS", wondering how he can wear that, but remembering its college. Later learning the shirt represents a South Carolina Mascot.
Sighing, my light is green.
One student defies, the flock follows. Another driver beeps angrily.
"We are in the cross walk" They yell, seemingly justified.
The light is green. Green means go for us drivers.
I look around, envious of the culture, the experience. Wondering if my anger is at the delay or the reminder.

Classic

2007-09-04T18:20:00.000-04:00

As a dietitian, I have a keen eye for reading labels. I must say, I'm frequently lauded for my ability to discern important information from a confusing food label.
Tuesday was hamburger night. I might add, only because I was way too lazy to actually cook something in the oven, not because of a prescheduled ground beef related event. As I was waiting for the tater tots to complete their more than reported 7-10 minute cook time, my eyes wandered to the label of the Kraft Miracle whip. I noted a fascinating recipe offered on the label. Seriously, Im not making this up.

Classic Turkey Sandwich
Prep time 5 minutes
2 slices multigrain bread
1 Tbsp Miracle Whip dressing
1 lettuce leaf
2 thin tomato slices
6 slices of oscar mayer shaved oven roasted turkey breast

Spread 1 of the bread slices with dressing, top with lettuce, tomato and turkey slices. cover with the remaining bread slice.
Makes 1 Serving.

Brilliant.

With purpose

2007-09-04T17:54:00.000-04:00

Opening a door with force has replaced the tentativeness gracefulness of entering a room. Again, I have noticed this in the bathroom (where clearly I seem to be most observative), a single, where someone crashes into the door, sending my concentration, not to mention my precarious balance, reeling. They attempt to open the door with such a purposefulness, I almost feel like I should move over to let them in. Most certainly their business must be more important than mine.
Again, in my office, which often masquerades as a supply closet, people try to enter with fierce purpose. I wouldnt mind, but the sign is on the door that clearly states, Please have a seat, Im with someone. I do think the sineage written a bit more tactfully though.
I was reminded of this most recently when my 10 month old dog tried to go out to the bathroom with such effort, she crashed into the glass door. Not her fault, she isnt use to sliding glass doors.
I wonder if the status quo results from being hurried, or waiting too long to begin with, or if it is just the assumption that a larger room is behind the door.
The reality is that I have knocked on, or stood outside a door that I should have walked through one too many times.
At least I can laugh about it.

The Zen Art of reorganization

2007-09-02T12:20:00.000-04:00

Most recently my group is undergoing re-organization. Using the word "zen" was a specific choice in that the word is based on a philosophy that emphasizes experience versus theory. In that, the quandry lies.
A new position was created, and I use the term "new" loosely, because it essentially borrowed heavily from other position responsibilities, and left other positions bereft. I recently read the post in the local newspaper and discovered that any superhero with a financial background would easily qualify. The rest of us mortals unfortunately would be immediately overwhelmed. The thought occurred to me that those writing the job description seemingly concentrated on theory rather than reality. Not so Zen I might add. The person currently in the position would have easily transitioned into the new position or offered pearls of wisdom to help better shape the job description. Not knowing the real reasons or focus, everyone was left to their own assumptions. Their focus was specific, ultimately expensive and eventually refused, and they doubled back. The position is open.
In theory, the proposed structure has worked. In reality, the lack of communication led to furious rumors, hurt feelings, and everything else a reorganization brings with it. The outcome is yet unknown, but the balance is disrupted.
We move along, but not without looking back rather than forward, not without the doubt in our mind. In large reorganizations this happens but on a different scale, with a vision that incorporates the entirety. In smaller units, re-org requires that fine balance between theory and experience.

Tandem grocery shopping

2007-08-24T20:07:00.000-04:00

I typically grocery shop at odd hours, only because I detest bobbing and weaving throughout the store during the "prime time" shopping hours. At one point, I was running into patients when shopping prime time, who would either be embarrassed by their cart, or ask me about each item in the cart. Personally I wasnt comfortable with the air port security worthy check of my grocery cart. Today, my shopping was deterred by someone who seemed to need the EXACT foods I did, at the EXACT same time. We first met up in the canned soup aisle. It started with the preliminary, "Oh, excuse me, so sorry" on my part, and a cold stare from her. We met up again when she was blocking the chicken breasts. I stood there while she carefully inspected each package, feining interest in the ground turkey that was on sale. I couldnt figure out why the packages were all puffed out and thought to myself "botulism", which didnt apply but steered me in another ground meat direction.
I ran two ailes over in an attempt to avoid her, but found that she circumvented the chip and paper good aisle herself. We met up at the lean cuisines, which were on sale. I got there first, but that didnt stop her. Our carts were paralell, I was hoping she wouldnt put her choices in my cart, or my in hers. My husband recently gave me the A'OKay on the lean cuisine paninis so my marraige could have been in jeopardy. I went across to the breakfast sausage and pancakes, she followed.
"Does she know Im a dietitian?" I thought, only because I felt like I was going to be exposed for my poor food choices.
"Seriously, It's for my son!" I practiced.
We hit the dairy lane together, I veered off the get 4 jars of peanutbutter, but we had a show down at the yogurts.
Thankfully, she was a yoplait lite and I was a yoplait whipped.
We parted after dairy. I can only think that she was having a very crappy day, because all in all, it was rather funny and she didnt crack a smile.

Dichotomy of pop tarts

2007-08-19T18:37:00.000-04:00

Poptarts have gone to the next level.
Consistent with our short attention span, our taste buds have followed suit. I was watching TV recently, and God knows it must have been a kids channel, only to learn that one pop tart comes in two flavors.
Why is that?
Eating a poptart I find is a fast, fast chore. I always promise myself that I WILL ONLY EAT ONE SIDE. I eat that side and realize Im still hungry.
Mentally, I banter. 200 cals for one poptart, but the silver package holds two. Im still hungry.
400 calories it is.
In a great attempt at gaining the market share of those who need constant change, even at the taste bud level, you can now get two poptart flavors on one side.
Frankly, the crust takes up too much space, and there isnt much left for the delicious center.
I ask, is this a ploy so that we eat more?

Stall-i-Quette

2007-08-16T15:34:00.000-04:00

Today I had the most bizzare experience, having to do with going to the bathroom. Its not gross, or dirty, it was just plain odd.
Sure, I have chatted amicably with my pals in adjacent stalls at a club or restaurant. Heck, I have even asked emergently for a sqaure of paper from my stall-neighbor in a time of need. In reality, the bathroom is my personal space. Though in the past, and even currently, my personal space has been invaded by a plethera of animals who feel the need to reciprocate my standing by when they eliminate, I still prefer to go it alone.
After a large Lipton Ice tea, I found I needed to visit the restroom. Bathroom breaks for me are sometimes tricky. My patients are scheduled closely, and a no show is a rarity. Hoping to seize the opportunity, I jaunted out the door. On my way, I ran into a fellow employee who was walking somewhere. We started chatting about the goings on in the hallway, you know, lack of a waiting room, hot climate, where'd ya get the skirt,blah blah blah. I opened the door to the ladies room. she followed me in. She kept talking.
I couldnt bring myself to enter the stall.
She got a paper towel for some random reason.
I couldnt bring myself to enter the stall.
Seriously, this stranger was going on and on, and I was suppose to go to the bathroom, continue talking and listening. NO WAY.
I did what anyone else would probably do.
Crossed my legs and left, waited it out.
It makes me wonder if there are rules for the stall.

After the chew...

2007-08-16T08:01:00.000-04:00

Last night, a new protein bar came available for sampling. Looked good, smelled good, there was hope. One of the girls tried it and declared, "It tastes good". I looked at the little bits of fudge with a rare skepticism. I don't always doubt, I'm a glass half full gal, but the reality was that I have been burned by protein bars.
"Just wait till after the chew. "I said.
Though they laughed, and noted that it actually tasted pretty darn good after the chew. Though that was a rarity, I thought about how much in life relates to that one concept.
Many of my patients talk about how they feel after surgery when they put a favorite food in their mouth, knowing that they are rebelling, and relishing the taste for only a second. It goes down the wrong way, or it doesnt settle right, and sometimes, it doesnt taste as good as imagined. Surgery makes life look good.
"You are thinner, you can move, your diabetes, high blood pressure, hich cholesterol, (etc) goes away." I hear them proclaim. There is still work to be done, its not magical.
Just like our head tells us how yummy that little fudge protein bar is going to taste, it tells us other things.
"dont worry about exercise, look at all the weight you are losing"
"Just a little piece of cake is no big deal, you wont get that sick"
"You are so busy, you dont have time to eat healthy, whats a little fast food once and awhile going to do"
Half of the battle, though I really feel like its more like 75%, is working with the brain.
That same brain has the ability to rationalize anything.
Sometimes food, and life for that matter, isnt as good as after the chew.

Underestimating

2007-08-05T21:47:00.000-04:00

Its hard to estimate the importance of a friend and to evaluate how supportive you are as a person. As we get older, we are more self centered, almost twice shy because we have experienced the hurt from relationships gone wrong. As a caregiver, I need to evaluate what I put out there, and how I respond because its truly difficult and almost a chore, to be unbiased.
Backing off from being supportive to someone can mean they relapse, or stop caring. It can also mean that you were too far in to begin with, over your head. Giving too much initial support can lead to the false sense of security on others part.
I recently recieved an email from a physician asking me to call someone and/or squeeze them in. It is so important to me to be supportive to both the patient and the physician, but it wasnt my client to begin with. Normally I would have jumped on the phone, calling this person up on my day off, but this has happened a lot recently, and I dont work full time. I backed off. I became more self centered. My reasoning was not because I didn want to help, on the contrary, I did. But continuously fixing situations on the surface lends to a slower realization of what needs to be changed. By helping out and answering emails at any given time on any given day, I was happy to be that person who fixed situations, who saved the day. The reality was not so, I am the sweeper. I now understand how I underestimated support.

Precarious

2007-08-05T21:35:00.000-04:00

In some instances, its not easy to know what to do. Actually, in many instances. Asked to write a letter to a nineteen year old in drug rehab, I was perplexed. I thought about the cheerleader approach, the rah rah, happy thoughts, you can do it letter, but I backed off.
Face it, Everyone's life sucks once and awhile and you just get through it.
We exit college with these phenomenal dreams and expectations. Good job, great future, edgy life sipping martini's at a trendy bar. Reality hits, and we are mired in mediocrity, faced with daily challenges to stay afloat, that sinking feeling when the bills start coming in. Sure, its easy to numb yourself, to look around for validation and think everyone is in the same situation. Its just hard to get out.
I wrote the letter. 5 pages in fact. I thought carefully about what I was going to write, but ended up just writing about life and how I felt. About how you expect life to be one way, but realize it's fluid, and goes another. We all feel like crap once and while, but just get through the big changes in life with some sort of inner confidence. Thinking too hard brings the realization that you are a poser.
Yeah, it all sucks now, but you have to go through the bumpy parts to appreciate the rest of your life. All the experience brings you to a point where you are finally happy with who you end up being in life. You just breathe it in, and appreciate it.
I know the chances are slim that a nineteen year old stays completely off drugs, because it is easier to numb yourself.
All I can do is hope, because it certainly is a precarious position for someone to be in.

Being Last

2007-07-31T18:30:00.000-04:00

It is easier to care for someone else other than yourself.
It is easier to know what is the right thing to do for others, especially in dire situations, and be blind to what is around you.
Today, I was reminded of this several times. Someone asked me about their friend, who had weight loss surgery, (not a patient of ours) who was trying to get pregnant shortly after surgery. Apparently, this person told her friend she is working toward getting this person into the country, as she met him on the internet. Did I have any advice?
I wasn't sure "Run" or "come home" would be the right answer.
I met up with another person whom I havent seen in many years who dealt with death, mental illness, single mother hood, and somehow kept it together. She always puts herself last. we talked a lot about some struggles she endured, and how she handled it. She said it all worked out for the best. How do you know that will happen?
I thought about why we ask advice of others or why we feel the need to give advice.
Sometimes we hate the answers because they arent what we want to hear, or there are extenuating circumstances. Sometimes we just want reassurance that we are making the right decision.
It is interesting that opinions hold so much emotion or ties.
Food is that emotional tie. I give advice on a daily basis to people seeking surgery, and I wonder how the information I provide influences them.
I think about the fallout if all the circumstances aren't known. How do we know?
why is it that its clear from the outside, but not so much when you are involved?

A journal of past wrongs

2007-07-30T06:43:00.000-04:00

Last night was dinner out with the girls, usual spot, Macaroni grill. The beauty of last night was that we sat outside and our waitress was more than happy to let us sit at the same table for 3 hours. Not to worry, she did get a good tip.
One of my friends is unbelievably funny should probably write a book about her experiences being a mom. Her most recent mom infraction was with her thirteen year old girl.
"Mom, I found a gray hair here, and here and here" her daughter joked
She innocently poked her daughter in the rear and joked, "I found cellulite"
She said that once the words came out of her mouth, she thought, "Oh my God, what did I just say"
We all thought a moment about how you cant really say anything to kids without thinking of the long term repercussions on their self esteem. Our parents said (and still do) whatever came to mind. We all seem to have a filter of sorts over our mouths, trying to shape that personality right from the get go. We seem to be so cautious, yet the media, the kids around us have no filters, and our kids absorb.
My other friend, who is therapy wise, had a great idea.
"I think you should keep a journal of all the horrible things you say to your children. You know, a notebook. Just write, 'On July 18, I said you had cellulite.' When she is wondering whats wrong with her or why she feels a certain way when she is 36, just say, 'look on page 36'.
It will save her a ton of time and money in therapy."
Not a bad idea, I suppose.

Mini Hoodlum and No snitching

2007-07-29T07:15:00.000-04:00

If anyone has had children at daycare, they know the feeling that overcomes you when you are asked to sign an incident report. The feeling, I guess depends on which way the incident goes. If your child was the recipient of that incident, its a bit different than if your child is the doer of the incident. Most recently, we had to sign an incident regarding a lunch gone bad.
"Um. We have an incident report for you to sign from the other day" One of the late teen girls approached us on the playground during pick up.
"The other day?" I asked. My little guy had just moved up to another level, apparently one that was slighly more lax.
"Yes, I guess your mother in law picked him up the other day." Oh yeah. I was working and my husband got called to a late meeting. Emergent pick up request.
I read it over. The incident involved my guy trying to poke someone in the head with a fork during lunch.
"He put food in my hair and told me I was annoying him." He piped up.
"Did you tell the teacher?" I asked, with the teen something looking on.
"I just did" he said.
Oh boy. My mini-vigilante.
"No, you have to tell the teacher when it happens. You cant go poking people with forks, you can really hurt someone." I admonished.
"They would call me a tattletale." he countered.
A tattletale at the age of 4. Who would have thought.

Seriously? Gimme the dog

2007-07-29T06:49:00.000-04:00

I have recently had the pleasure, and I use that term loosely, of calling various rescue organizations regarding dogs. Dog rescue has come a long way from going to the pound and looking at a few choice dogs, picking one out and taking them home. Dog "rescue" has come to a whole new level, including personal phone interview, lengthy applications, in some cases, a home visit, and a hefty fee. My mother in law went through all, except getting the dog and paying the fee. My attempted dog acquisition overturned even more obstacles I wasnt prepared for.
I saw a dog listed, adorable mini-daschound, up for adoption, as well as a chihuahua, so I called. After several rings, a woman answered, unemotional, making me instantly uncomfortable and I stammered on the spot.
"Ummm, Hi, I was interested in the daschound" I started
"Yes" That was it. One word. Not, 'thanks for calling' or 'what can I help you with?'
"We lost our dog to cancer and we are looking for the right dog. We are looking for a smaller dog that is good with kids and cats. I have a 4 year old son"
" We dont adopt to anyone with kids under 7"
What?? I thought. I was fairly certain this was a rescue looking for a good home for the dog.
" Well, he is great with dogs" I tried.
No dice.
"We dont adopt any small dogs, especially long spined dogs to anyone with kids. they could hurt the dog." She went on. Continuing to be unemotional.
"What if you met him"
"No" She said.
Finally I gave up. "What would you recommend?"
"Try a sturdier dog" She said.
I thought about the various Hollywood stars taking their mini dogs out and about, clubbing, then I thought of us, possibly giving this dog a fenced in yard, food, lots of love, and even allowing it to sleep on the bed.
Whatever.
The same organization emailed me back about my inquiry, more upbeat and citing that they adopted out on a case by case basis. Hmmm.
I tried an animal shelter.
"Do you have any restrictions for adopting to people with children?" I asked.
She seemed happy I asked, and was very kind.
"Yes, we dont adopt the street dogs from Puerto Rico to people with children because we arent sure of their behavior." Made sense.
"How about small dogs?" I asked
"It depends on the dog and the child. We would meet him and see how he does with the dog"
Seemed fair.
I called a few other places, and found that it wasnt meant to be. I had emailed the lady that chose our other dog for us, saying to keep her eye out for a Basset Mix.
I got an email.
"Yesterday I pulled a basset mix from a high kill shelter in TN. She was about to be euthanized and I saw her and thought of you guys. I wasnt sure if you were ready, but I pulled her anyway, and I dont usually pull mixes, just the purebreds. She is 6m old and has a great temperment. Her name is Melanie, she is a beagle/basset mix, a petite basset looking dog. "
I knew this was the dog.
I called, we talked about her at length. She is in foster care now in TN, and likely going to be ready to travel at the end of august. She seems like a good match, but they need to evaluate her temperment.
I talked about her with my little one, who decided on a few names. Melanie just didnt cut it.
"Sally, Tinkerbell, Lola, or Roxanne the Rock Star." He stated.
And we shall see.

Power of Thank you

2007-07-25T07:17:00.000-04:00

Most recently I got an email that said in the subject line, "thank you." It was startling, because I normally get emails with headers that say "urgent" or "help". Not that I mind these emails, but there seems to be a certain level of responsibility associated with them.
The email I received was from someone who started to go through the surgical process, only to find out her insurance company had an exclusion clause for weight loss surgery. Though we discuss this during the introductory meeting, some people dont really know what to ask their insurance company.
Though this person had a not so good outcome, they took the time to correspond back to me, as I was able to point them in the right direction to get the answer. The thank you meant a lot because I was coming off a 12 hour day, and had a group meeting that was full of grumpiness.
It made me think that sometimes, a large gesture of thanks isnt necessary. Something small, something to let another know that their time, effort and worry was appreciated.
It makes it all worth it.

Black Dog

2007-07-22T19:53:00.000-04:00

Winston Churcill describes depression.
I had never heard of this until my friend was recently diagnosed. I visited.
I made it across "the demilitarized zone" after my bag of books was checked, books taken out, bag confiscated.
We were talking last night over the "joyful" noise of a cro-magnon looking man banging on the piano, spewing about free speech, "its my F-in right".
We were sitting across from each other, a big wooden butcher block table between us, sitting in the most uncomfortable of chairs.
"I asked for an ibuprofen" she said, because her coccyx was about ready to emerge from a bedsore.
"Whaaaat" I yelped, Entertainment tonite was blaring, nobody seemed to notice except my friend and I.
"Wait, there is the resident, let me grab him" She ran, yelling back " are you okay for a second"
I thought that she could handle it, I could too.
A rather large elderly man, now dressed in street clothes, shuffled across the kitchen and got three ice creams. Dietitian self immediately counted calories.
An elderly man and his son walked in, sat with an elderly woman, "IM DYYYYYINNNNG" she said, wining.
"Mom, you are just having an anxiety attack." Her son pooh-poohed her anquish. His cell phone rang. "Hello, Hello. Yeah. Im here visiting mom."
"Let me talk." She grabbed the phone. "I want to say Im here to die"
The son got up and got some ice cream from the fridge, two cups to be exact and sat back down as his mother continued to talk on the phone.
A mother walked in with a tiny nurse leading her toward a woman who was playing scrabble.
Alone.
She could have been anyone's mother wearing pearls, looking put together but her lips were pressed together in a tight line. Her hands grabbing tightly to her purse. Not knowing what to expect.
"Why are you here?" her daughter yelled. "Did you want to see what I did all day. Look." She shoved the scrabble board forward. I craned my neck, hoping I could decipher what the words she spelled meant. There was no pattern. No reality.
"I told you I didnt want to see you without a third person here." It was hard to look away, I wanted to give the woman a hug. She deflated.
"Im going to the restroom" the daughter stormed off.
I looked around for my friend, she was still talking to the resident. Another man walked around, speaking about his recent call to amnesty international to get him out.
She came back in and sat down.
"Do places block this phone number?" Thinking of the poor person at AI that had to answer the phone and figure out what was really the situation.
"Its a pay phone" she answered. "I got one advil though."
"One?" Didnt seem like enough to me.
"It will get me through the night."
The large elderly man shuffled again across the kitchen and got three more ice creams, sat back down.
"He already ate three." I tattled.
"He probably ate 15 already. Nothing else to do here. Eat, sleep, read. I dont worry though."
She answered.
The irate daughter came back in to her worried, put together mom. She started yelling about her dad, or her mom's husband.
The cro-magnon man continued to bang on the keys.
The pacing man was going to try someplace else to get him out of here.
The nurses watched from behind the glass window. Popping out to complete a check list every 10-15 minutes.
She was in a place that was like a big stewing pot of psychosis. Stewed in delusions, chunks of hypochondria, and a dash of personality disorder.
I didnt understand depression before. Overdiagnosed sometimes.
"I started the pill and I felt so much better."
Seemingly easy to treat in everyone else.
Now it was the big black dog that followed her home. Distracting her from her life, her enjoyment. Following her around. Trying to hide it is futile.
The black dog is there. We have to live with it.