In no particular order:
1) 4th of July plans are SET! We are headed to New Orleans Wednesday night or Thursday morning. Big Cash (a friend) will be the "celebrity" guest bartender at The Ritz, and we are going to see him...and take advantage of the free Ritz martinis! I am looking at this weekend as a last hurrah before school gets going.
2) Thank you JESUS for the rain today! Normally, I get very anxious and nervous during a thunderstorm, but we haven't had rain in what seems like a decade, and I knew the rain would knock at least ten degrees off of the temperature. What a BLESSING the rain has been - all morning, until about 12:30ish. I don't even know if we have hit 90 degrees yet today.
3) I went to purchase my summer school books. Two books, one used, one new (they are using the newest edition)...total price, $255 and some change. *sigh* Can't wait to buy three books come fall! I am excited to take the classes, though. And, excited to get them out of the way. :)
4) K found my car to have a flat tire this morning. I went to air up the tire, and saw a big, shiny screw head nestled into the tread. Awesome. I drove across the street to the place where I get my oil changed regularly (where Fightin' Joe has a part-time job), and they informed me that they would patch the tire GRATIS! FOR FREE! NO CHARGE! I was stoked. Everyone in Austin, please visit FOUNDATION AUTO REPAIR, at McNeil and Corpus Christi. They are fabulous, and I love them.
5) We are still waiting for the financing to go through on the new house. The sellers agreed to extend the closing date, since everything is moving forward, but we are very, very tired of chasing our tails, trying to get the necessary documentation. It's not enough that we have to get bank statements - instead, we have to get bank statements plus letters plus things from K's HR department time and time again. I understand the need for the documentation, but I wish they weren't sending us to the pantry so often. If we had a dollar for every time we've been told, "Thanks, I think that's all we're going to need," we would easily be able to afford another downpayment for another house. Closing has been moved to 7/9, so cross your fingers that we sign some papers that day, and can stop running around in circles!
6) The End.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Retro Redux!, Part One
I've been trying to sort through some Tupperware bins (re: JUNK) in preparation for packing and moving lately. The idea of purging all of this stuff that I have been carrying around is really appealing to me, especially when considering the fact that we will be moving in, at the very least, mid-July, if not later into the summer.
I started in on one bin Saturday morning, and found a bunch of stuff from my school days: various awards and certificates, band programs, yearbooks, etc. I also found about 4 or 5 of my journals that I kept as a child.
I decided to read them (of course!), and post some of the entries on here, for a couple of reasons: 1) entertainment, and 2) further preservation. Not that I expect to be someone famous, but in doing a little research into my family's history, I find myself very disappointed when I come upon a dead end. In other words, I can find a distant relative's name, but there is very little information about them. What were they like? What did they do?
And so, in the primary interest of entertainment, I present to you some of my earliest writing. I also found a packet of letters exchanged between my great-grandmother and myself, and I plan to post some of those as well.
Without further ado, here is the first installment of a new series I'll be calling "Retro Redux"...
DATE: 7-7-88
Dear Diary
Yesterday we went horse back riding and on a hay (ride) in Durango Colorado
till tomorow
dear Diary
DATE: 11-5-89
Dear Diary
I saw one of our Christmas presents in my mom and dad's closet but I didn't get to see the other things but we got [Battiling] Tops out. That was one of our presents.
till tomorrow
dear Diary
DATE: 1-27-90
Dear Diary
Last night I made my 1st [reconcillyation]. I didn't make a fool out of myself although I whispered first and then he goes I can't hear you and it went like a song "I can't hear you" but the embarrassing part was that my mom went to confession when children were doing it!
Till tomorrow
Dear Diary
DATE: 9-27-90
Dear Diary,
So school is the subject here I guess well Spelling = Boring! Reading = Kinda English = Kinda Math = fun Writing = Fun Science = Very Fun Soc. St = Fun Art = ART I LOVE!
More to come. :)
I started in on one bin Saturday morning, and found a bunch of stuff from my school days: various awards and certificates, band programs, yearbooks, etc. I also found about 4 or 5 of my journals that I kept as a child.
I decided to read them (of course!), and post some of the entries on here, for a couple of reasons: 1) entertainment, and 2) further preservation. Not that I expect to be someone famous, but in doing a little research into my family's history, I find myself very disappointed when I come upon a dead end. In other words, I can find a distant relative's name, but there is very little information about them. What were they like? What did they do?
And so, in the primary interest of entertainment, I present to you some of my earliest writing. I also found a packet of letters exchanged between my great-grandmother and myself, and I plan to post some of those as well.
Without further ado, here is the first installment of a new series I'll be calling "Retro Redux"...
DATE: 7-7-88
Dear Diary
Yesterday we went horse back riding and on a hay (ride) in Durango Colorado
till tomorow
dear Diary
DATE: 11-5-89
Dear Diary
I saw one of our Christmas presents in my mom and dad's closet but I didn't get to see the other things but we got [Battiling] Tops out. That was one of our presents.
till tomorrow
dear Diary
DATE: 1-27-90
Dear Diary
Last night I made my 1st [reconcillyation]. I didn't make a fool out of myself although I whispered first and then he goes I can't hear you and it went like a song "I can't hear you" but the embarrassing part was that my mom went to confession when children were doing it!
Till tomorrow
Dear Diary
DATE: 9-27-90
Dear Diary,
So school is the subject here I guess well Spelling = Boring! Reading = Kinda English = Kinda Math = fun Writing = Fun Science = Very Fun Soc. St = Fun Art = ART I LOVE!
More to come. :)
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Food Inc.
Eager to stay in a well air-conditioned environment yesterday (it only got up to 108 degrees! HOORAY!), K and I decided to go see "Food Inc." at the theatre. I love a documentary just about more than any other movie genre (except maybe "Old"!), and having loved "Super-Size Me," this seemed like a no-brainer.
The movie is a collaborative effort from several food informants - Michael Pollan, author of "The Omnivore's Dilemma," and Eric Schlosser, of "Fast-Food Nation," among others. The premise is to enlighten audiences about where, exactly, their food comes from. It focuses mainly on the meat business, as well as farmers and their crops, and how a small number of mega-corporations controls just about every aspect of EVERYTHING. Like Tyson chicken and Smithfield Farms pork? Yeah, I used to as well. Not so much anymore.
The film did a great job of not being vulgar - it could have been very easy to make this a "go vegetarian" movie, or a "the Republicans have screwed up again" movie, but I found it to be very fair and balanced. Yes, there were several shots of animals being taken to slaughter (I covered my eyes), but it was necessary. The film's director made the point that companies who treat the animals with little respect often treat their employees in the same manner.
There were a lot of scary things in this film that I was entirely unaware of:
1) Tomatoes are usually ripened with ethylene. ETHYLENE! It's a naturally-occuring chemical in plants, but ethylene is also used for things like ANTIFREEZE! Gah!
2) There exists a company that produces a ground beef filler, which is made of, among other things, AMMONIA!
3) When cows are fed corn instead of grass (which is the norm now, since corn is so easy and cheap to grow...but evolutionarily speaking, cows were not made to eat corn!), their gut grows more succeptible to E Coli, and they can not rectify the situation naturally. If a corn-fed cow switches its diet back to grass, within a week, it is able to rid its system of 80% of the E Coli...and yet, we still feed our cows corn!
I can't recall everything, but suffice it to say that my eyes were opened to what I've been putting into my body over the last 27 years.
The film also touched on things like affordability of organic, natural foods, the prevalence of Type II diabetes as a result of modern diets, and how intimate the relationship is between the heads of government organizations (think the FDA and such), and THEIR ROLES AS FORMER LOBBYISTS!!! It blew my mind to see how little our government cares about ensuring the safety and well-being of its citizens when it comes to what we eat.
I left the movie feeling enraged and motivated to change. It was a lot like how I felt after seeing Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth." When we were walking out of the parking lot, I said to K, "Well, I think I'm done with meat now," and he agreed. While I'm not sure if I can get off the meat bandwagon entirely (I only eat it on occasion as it is), going forward, you can bet I will be eating 100% organic, grass-fed, free-range beef/chicken/pork, etc. I never knew how important that stuff was until yesterday.
We also came home yesterday and immediately signed up to join a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture), where we were put on a 2-3 month waiting list. We have decided to buy all produce from the Austin Farmer's Market from now on, and to buy produce that is in season.
We also stopped by the HEB on our way home yesterday, and I felt a little like I was in the lion's den. When I went to go see Body Worlds a few years ago, I had the odd experience for several weeks afterward of imagining everyone with their skin missing, as if I could see through it, and look at their musculature and organs. It was a very, very weird experience. I felt a little bit like that in the grocery store - I was no longer seeing the produce section...instead, I was seeing all of the fruits and vegetables that were A) expensively priced, and therefore unaffordable to low-income families, and B) flown in from places thousands of miles away from Austin. It was nice to have that extra layer of understanding, although, it made it difficult to buy anything. That was the first time I have ever walked out of the grocery store empty-handed.
I'm sure that some of this will wear off. Any time we are excited and motivated to change, the adrenaline always subsides, or is difficult to keep up. I am pleased, however, with our decision to join to CSA, opt out on meat the majority of the time, and buy organic going forward. Am I going to be a crazy about everything, and reject meals or dinner invitations just because they aren't in alignment with my new moral compass? No. Am I going to pass on my dad's burgers going forward? ABSOLUTELY NO! (but I might offer to buy the ground beef!) Am I going to boycot the HEB? Definitely no. Am I happy that we have decided to make some changes in our diet? Positively yes.
The movie is a collaborative effort from several food informants - Michael Pollan, author of "The Omnivore's Dilemma," and Eric Schlosser, of "Fast-Food Nation," among others. The premise is to enlighten audiences about where, exactly, their food comes from. It focuses mainly on the meat business, as well as farmers and their crops, and how a small number of mega-corporations controls just about every aspect of EVERYTHING. Like Tyson chicken and Smithfield Farms pork? Yeah, I used to as well. Not so much anymore.
The film did a great job of not being vulgar - it could have been very easy to make this a "go vegetarian" movie, or a "the Republicans have screwed up again" movie, but I found it to be very fair and balanced. Yes, there were several shots of animals being taken to slaughter (I covered my eyes), but it was necessary. The film's director made the point that companies who treat the animals with little respect often treat their employees in the same manner.
There were a lot of scary things in this film that I was entirely unaware of:
1) Tomatoes are usually ripened with ethylene. ETHYLENE! It's a naturally-occuring chemical in plants, but ethylene is also used for things like ANTIFREEZE! Gah!
2) There exists a company that produces a ground beef filler, which is made of, among other things, AMMONIA!
3) When cows are fed corn instead of grass (which is the norm now, since corn is so easy and cheap to grow...but evolutionarily speaking, cows were not made to eat corn!), their gut grows more succeptible to E Coli, and they can not rectify the situation naturally. If a corn-fed cow switches its diet back to grass, within a week, it is able to rid its system of 80% of the E Coli...and yet, we still feed our cows corn!
I can't recall everything, but suffice it to say that my eyes were opened to what I've been putting into my body over the last 27 years.
The film also touched on things like affordability of organic, natural foods, the prevalence of Type II diabetes as a result of modern diets, and how intimate the relationship is between the heads of government organizations (think the FDA and such), and THEIR ROLES AS FORMER LOBBYISTS!!! It blew my mind to see how little our government cares about ensuring the safety and well-being of its citizens when it comes to what we eat.
I left the movie feeling enraged and motivated to change. It was a lot like how I felt after seeing Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth." When we were walking out of the parking lot, I said to K, "Well, I think I'm done with meat now," and he agreed. While I'm not sure if I can get off the meat bandwagon entirely (I only eat it on occasion as it is), going forward, you can bet I will be eating 100% organic, grass-fed, free-range beef/chicken/pork, etc. I never knew how important that stuff was until yesterday.
We also came home yesterday and immediately signed up to join a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture), where we were put on a 2-3 month waiting list. We have decided to buy all produce from the Austin Farmer's Market from now on, and to buy produce that is in season.
We also stopped by the HEB on our way home yesterday, and I felt a little like I was in the lion's den. When I went to go see Body Worlds a few years ago, I had the odd experience for several weeks afterward of imagining everyone with their skin missing, as if I could see through it, and look at their musculature and organs. It was a very, very weird experience. I felt a little bit like that in the grocery store - I was no longer seeing the produce section...instead, I was seeing all of the fruits and vegetables that were A) expensively priced, and therefore unaffordable to low-income families, and B) flown in from places thousands of miles away from Austin. It was nice to have that extra layer of understanding, although, it made it difficult to buy anything. That was the first time I have ever walked out of the grocery store empty-handed.
I'm sure that some of this will wear off. Any time we are excited and motivated to change, the adrenaline always subsides, or is difficult to keep up. I am pleased, however, with our decision to join to CSA, opt out on meat the majority of the time, and buy organic going forward. Am I going to be a crazy about everything, and reject meals or dinner invitations just because they aren't in alignment with my new moral compass? No. Am I going to pass on my dad's burgers going forward? ABSOLUTELY NO! (but I might offer to buy the ground beef!) Am I going to boycot the HEB? Definitely no. Am I happy that we have decided to make some changes in our diet? Positively yes.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Squirrelly
Today, I led my first "normal" group tour at the museum. I say "normal" because, until today, the groups I have led were all filled with exceptionally bright students. I know this because they came from organizations called "Leaders of Tomorrow" and the like. I also know this because, based on their observations from the tour, they could have easily been the docent(s). Either they were brilliant, or they had a brilliant docent. I happen to think it was a nice mix of the two.
I was a little concerned with getting a normal group of squirrelly little kids, ages 5 through 11. I had not yet had a group where I have had to be an enforcer of the rules (because, let's face it - no self-respecting Leader of Tomorrow is going to touch a piece of art, or run in a museum), and frankly, I'm not used to little kids. I am used to adult and young-adult learners, and squirrelly little kids are just not on my radar right now.
The first group I had was good. There is always a kid in each group, whether Leaders or Squirrells, who wants to answer all of the questions or share all of his or her thoughts. I find that I have a difficult time shushing this kid, because more often than not, the kid is insightful and usually hilarious. This first group was no exception, as one little boy had at least three stories to share (pertinent or not) about each piece we stopped to discuss. At one point, I asked the kids if a compilation of Chuck Jones cartoon landscapes deserved to be in an art museum, and Answer Kid said yes, because it's a drawing, and drawings are art. And wouldn't you know it, but Answer Kid knows a guy who is a "big-time artist," because one time he drew a picture of a bull and sold it to a guy for "five bucks." How exactly do you respond to that?! If you're me, you give him the thumbs up, say "Right on!" and escort everyone in to the next gallery, in an attempt to mask the fact that you do not, in fact, know how to respond.
My second group also had an Answer Kid. This boy was older than AK #1, and again, following true form, so insightful. One of the first pieces in the front gallery is a Deborah Aschheim piece, commemorating three of her childhood birthdays. She made three sculptures of what appears to be a big neuron encapsulating a video image of her father's home movie of her birthday perty, surrounded by a wild bird's nest of glowing green synapses. Of course, I recognize this because I am an adult, and have had a fair amount of science classes. I asked the students to tell me what they thought these sculptures were, and AK #2, without hesitation, explained that it was like the pathways in your brain that store memories and help you remember.
Again, how do you respond to that?!
As I was revelling in AK #2's genius, we wandered over to a John Copelans photograph, and started talking about muscle memory. I asked the kids if they were familiar with muscle memory, and they all shook their heads no. I asked them to guess what it might mean. AK #2 piped up, and said it was what happens when you get old. He then proceeded to give us a demonstration. He hunched over and clutched his lower back with his hands, as if he were pregnant, and said, in his best old man voice, "Son, I remember a time when my biceps looked like they belong to Hulk Hogan!"
A whole 'nother way to think about muscle memory, courtesy of being a museum docent.
All things begin equal, the tours went well. I had several incidents where kids touched things on the walls (I can think of no other thing that strikes as much fear in my heart currently than seeing a grubby finger making its way toward a pane of glass over the top of a photograph or painting!), and I also had a couple of kids who were totally checked out from the very beginning. I think this was actually my final tour for this particular show, since I have summer classes beginning on July 8th. In August, we will get a Chuck Close exhibit, which I am so entirely excited about. August 18th, baby!
As if I didn't have enough squirrel-ness today, K and I braved the 100-degree heat and went on a walk for about an hour. As we were making our way through one arbored area, K jerked on my hand and said, "Watch out!" I jumped and squirmed and shrieked and ran away in that way that girls do - the way that makes them look like they are football players doing that exercise where they are jumping through the tires on the ground - in other words, knees coming straight up, very high. I had come *this close* to stepping on top of a very, very flat, dead squirrel. Ew.
The rest of this week should be relatively uneventful. I take the remaining two cats to the vet on Friday ("Hey! Remember me? I had the horrible orange cat, and now I am bringing you two grotesquely overweight, incestuous gay cats!"), and we have friends coming to visit for the weekend later that afternoon. On Monday, we are slated to close on the house, assuming that there are no glitches with the financing. Cross your fingers, everyone!
I was a little concerned with getting a normal group of squirrelly little kids, ages 5 through 11. I had not yet had a group where I have had to be an enforcer of the rules (because, let's face it - no self-respecting Leader of Tomorrow is going to touch a piece of art, or run in a museum), and frankly, I'm not used to little kids. I am used to adult and young-adult learners, and squirrelly little kids are just not on my radar right now.
The first group I had was good. There is always a kid in each group, whether Leaders or Squirrells, who wants to answer all of the questions or share all of his or her thoughts. I find that I have a difficult time shushing this kid, because more often than not, the kid is insightful and usually hilarious. This first group was no exception, as one little boy had at least three stories to share (pertinent or not) about each piece we stopped to discuss. At one point, I asked the kids if a compilation of Chuck Jones cartoon landscapes deserved to be in an art museum, and Answer Kid said yes, because it's a drawing, and drawings are art. And wouldn't you know it, but Answer Kid knows a guy who is a "big-time artist," because one time he drew a picture of a bull and sold it to a guy for "five bucks." How exactly do you respond to that?! If you're me, you give him the thumbs up, say "Right on!" and escort everyone in to the next gallery, in an attempt to mask the fact that you do not, in fact, know how to respond.
My second group also had an Answer Kid. This boy was older than AK #1, and again, following true form, so insightful. One of the first pieces in the front gallery is a Deborah Aschheim piece, commemorating three of her childhood birthdays. She made three sculptures of what appears to be a big neuron encapsulating a video image of her father's home movie of her birthday perty, surrounded by a wild bird's nest of glowing green synapses. Of course, I recognize this because I am an adult, and have had a fair amount of science classes. I asked the students to tell me what they thought these sculptures were, and AK #2, without hesitation, explained that it was like the pathways in your brain that store memories and help you remember.
Again, how do you respond to that?!
As I was revelling in AK #2's genius, we wandered over to a John Copelans photograph, and started talking about muscle memory. I asked the kids if they were familiar with muscle memory, and they all shook their heads no. I asked them to guess what it might mean. AK #2 piped up, and said it was what happens when you get old. He then proceeded to give us a demonstration. He hunched over and clutched his lower back with his hands, as if he were pregnant, and said, in his best old man voice, "Son, I remember a time when my biceps looked like they belong to Hulk Hogan!"
A whole 'nother way to think about muscle memory, courtesy of being a museum docent.
All things begin equal, the tours went well. I had several incidents where kids touched things on the walls (I can think of no other thing that strikes as much fear in my heart currently than seeing a grubby finger making its way toward a pane of glass over the top of a photograph or painting!), and I also had a couple of kids who were totally checked out from the very beginning. I think this was actually my final tour for this particular show, since I have summer classes beginning on July 8th. In August, we will get a Chuck Close exhibit, which I am so entirely excited about. August 18th, baby!
As if I didn't have enough squirrel-ness today, K and I braved the 100-degree heat and went on a walk for about an hour. As we were making our way through one arbored area, K jerked on my hand and said, "Watch out!" I jumped and squirmed and shrieked and ran away in that way that girls do - the way that makes them look like they are football players doing that exercise where they are jumping through the tires on the ground - in other words, knees coming straight up, very high. I had come *this close* to stepping on top of a very, very flat, dead squirrel. Ew.
The rest of this week should be relatively uneventful. I take the remaining two cats to the vet on Friday ("Hey! Remember me? I had the horrible orange cat, and now I am bringing you two grotesquely overweight, incestuous gay cats!"), and we have friends coming to visit for the weekend later that afternoon. On Monday, we are slated to close on the house, assuming that there are no glitches with the financing. Cross your fingers, everyone!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Health = Wealth
I was scheduled for two tours at the museum today - kindergarteners from a local daycare. Believe it or not, I was really looking forward to this one - I have yet to give a tour to such little museum-goers. I was also a little skeptical about my ability to get this particular show on the level of such little kids, but it has been my experience thus far as a docent that I tend to underestimate my audiences, and what they know. Each group I have facilitated so far has been exceptionally bright and engaged. I kinda feel like I have been spoiled, in getting groups from "overachieving" schools or "smart kid" groups. Who knows what I would have done with a group of "regular" kindergarteners...or how they would have behaved!
I spent about an hour up at the museum, waiting for the group to arrive. After waiting for an hour, someone called the school, and it was determined that there was an error in scheduling, and they were not coming today. Not sure who to blame for that one, but oh well.
While I was waiting (and before I understood that there would be no tour!), I realized that I was not feeling well at all - as in, wondering how I would lead this tour in an upright position, and away from a bathroom. I kinda fell into this woe-is-me-pity-party-for-one-please-bring-a-gift-and-your-condolences thing; why could I not have felt gross the previous day, or perhaps tomorrow. It was, in plain language, inconvenient for me to not be feeling well.
As if there is ever a convenient time to not feel well...
On my way home from the museum, I stopped off at my doctor's office (which happens to be in a hospital) to pick up a coupon for a prescription that she promised. Because the hospital has three wings, twelve entrances and more than enough long hallways to confuse even the most adroit maze-running mouse, I parked in the wrong place, and wound up becoming the mouse, looking for my doctor's office.
Not to be too "heady" about this, but I believe that I was meant to park in that crappy parking spot, and trek my way through that hospital. Not only did it give me positive reinforcement about my decision to go in to nursing (I fought the urge all the way through to chat up anyone wearing scrubs, or, even better, a white lab coat!), but it sort of made my lovely pity party come to a rather abrupt end.
Having parked on the south wing of the building meant that, before hitting my doctor's office, I would pass by a dialysis center, the intensive care unit, the surgical waiting area, a wound care center, a cardiology wing and the ER. I was also not oblivious to the fact that I was 1) much younger than most of the people I was seeing, 2) walking much faster than most of those people, and 3) moving on my own two feet, and not with the aide of a cane, walker or wheelchair.
By the time I found Dr. McNelis, it was not lost on me that, yes, I was not feeling well, but that I was HEALTHY. I was not in this hospital to receive care, or to take someone in for a procedure. I wondered how many of those people I passed by would have given anything to trade places with me, if only to have my health, instead of their own.
Perhaps I am being presumptious, but it really made me think. I spend more time than I would like being critical of my body: of its size, of its shape, of its shortcomings and, on occasion, its failings. But why? I have a body that is HEALTHY. I can breathe, I can walk, my circulation is good, I have my wits about me (though, that is debatable on some days), and while you might never see me on "American Gladiators," my body is strong.
Walking through the hospital today was a little like going to Body Worlds a few years ago - I left feeling inspired by my body and its abilities, and I also felt more inspired to take better care of myself. I want to know that, should I eventually need to be in that hospital to receive care, it's not for a reason that I could have easily prevented.
I also left feeling really good about the decision to be a nurse. It is very, very difficult to convince or incentivize people to take better care of themselves - it's often not a fun thing, there is not usually any kind of instant gratification (and oh, we love that here in this country!), and frankly, it's often hard to get motivated and stay with it. Being a nurse means that, while I won't always be able to make all my patients compliant, I can at least take care of them when they need me to.
I spent about an hour up at the museum, waiting for the group to arrive. After waiting for an hour, someone called the school, and it was determined that there was an error in scheduling, and they were not coming today. Not sure who to blame for that one, but oh well.
While I was waiting (and before I understood that there would be no tour!), I realized that I was not feeling well at all - as in, wondering how I would lead this tour in an upright position, and away from a bathroom. I kinda fell into this woe-is-me-pity-party-for-one-please-bring-a-gift-and-your-condolences thing; why could I not have felt gross the previous day, or perhaps tomorrow. It was, in plain language, inconvenient for me to not be feeling well.
As if there is ever a convenient time to not feel well...
On my way home from the museum, I stopped off at my doctor's office (which happens to be in a hospital) to pick up a coupon for a prescription that she promised. Because the hospital has three wings, twelve entrances and more than enough long hallways to confuse even the most adroit maze-running mouse, I parked in the wrong place, and wound up becoming the mouse, looking for my doctor's office.
Not to be too "heady" about this, but I believe that I was meant to park in that crappy parking spot, and trek my way through that hospital. Not only did it give me positive reinforcement about my decision to go in to nursing (I fought the urge all the way through to chat up anyone wearing scrubs, or, even better, a white lab coat!), but it sort of made my lovely pity party come to a rather abrupt end.
Having parked on the south wing of the building meant that, before hitting my doctor's office, I would pass by a dialysis center, the intensive care unit, the surgical waiting area, a wound care center, a cardiology wing and the ER. I was also not oblivious to the fact that I was 1) much younger than most of the people I was seeing, 2) walking much faster than most of those people, and 3) moving on my own two feet, and not with the aide of a cane, walker or wheelchair.
By the time I found Dr. McNelis, it was not lost on me that, yes, I was not feeling well, but that I was HEALTHY. I was not in this hospital to receive care, or to take someone in for a procedure. I wondered how many of those people I passed by would have given anything to trade places with me, if only to have my health, instead of their own.
Perhaps I am being presumptious, but it really made me think. I spend more time than I would like being critical of my body: of its size, of its shape, of its shortcomings and, on occasion, its failings. But why? I have a body that is HEALTHY. I can breathe, I can walk, my circulation is good, I have my wits about me (though, that is debatable on some days), and while you might never see me on "American Gladiators," my body is strong.
Walking through the hospital today was a little like going to Body Worlds a few years ago - I left feeling inspired by my body and its abilities, and I also felt more inspired to take better care of myself. I want to know that, should I eventually need to be in that hospital to receive care, it's not for a reason that I could have easily prevented.
I also left feeling really good about the decision to be a nurse. It is very, very difficult to convince or incentivize people to take better care of themselves - it's often not a fun thing, there is not usually any kind of instant gratification (and oh, we love that here in this country!), and frankly, it's often hard to get motivated and stay with it. Being a nurse means that, while I won't always be able to make all my patients compliant, I can at least take care of them when they need me to.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Vet Visit with Mouser and Fightin' Joe
So this morning I had the distinct pleasure of taking Mouser and FJ to the vet (another perk of unemployment!). It was a brand new vet down here, and I was hoping that one cat in particular would turn over a new leaf, in terms of his behaviour with people who need to examine him...and still want to live to tell about it.
Mouser was great - so great, in fact, that he didn't crap all over himself in the carrier, or nervously pee on the examination counter. He shedded like crazy, but he went through his exam with no trouble whatsoever. He's a chunky mouse these days, though - 15 pounds!
Fightin' Joe, on the other hand...
I tried to warn the lady at the front that he usually has to go to the "kitty dunk tank" - in other words, he usually gets knocked out so that the doctor may keep his limbs in tact and blood in his body. The assistant told me that the vet was going to see how far he could get, and then make a decision about knocking him out.
This vet was AWESOME, and his assistant was no slouch either. They managed to get Big Orange out of his carrier (which he really enjoys...seriously), keep Tinsel Ball in there, and put Orange on to the kitty scale with not a peep out of him. Twelve pounds.
Orange was moved to the examination table, and the vet was able to get his stethoscope under his belly, at which point, Joe's alter ego that we call "Cobra Cat" was unleashed.
Cobra Cat is mean, and loud. Mostly loud. Cobra Cat will sink back into his hind legs, gather up his energy, and then strike at anyone within three inches, baring his tartar-encrusted fangs and black-speckled gums.
Cobra Cat was no match for the vet and his assistant. Assistant held him by the scruff of his neck (giving him that lovely "Slow down! You're driving too fast!" look on his face), and later found out that he would also need to pin down his back legs. Cobra Cat must be restrained at all costs.
And then came the exorcism noises. Cobra Cat let out some of the most ungodly, primal noises I have ever heard. Assistant put a towel on CC's head after a couple of incidents that resulted in both Assistant AND Vet leaping back in fear, and tons of CC's fur being jettisoned off of his body. Tinsel Ball looked on silently, worriedly. As if the noise weren't bad enough, we were also all treated to the smell of Cobra Cat's rancid breath, which filled the room with each hiss. At one point, I said, "Buddy, your breath STINKS!," and Cobra Cat hissed at me in defiance.
To make a long story only somewhat shortish, Cobra Cat was given BOTH of his vaccines without the aide of anesthesia. He would not, however, give a fecal sample or let the vet check his ears. The only dental exam he got was what the vet was able to see when his fangs were bared.
My sweet orange cat returned once he was in the carrier, and we walked up front to pay. A man waiting with his pug in the reception area exclaimed, "I thought there was a tiger in there." I turned the carrier around to show him that Big Orange is, in some respect, a smallish tiger.
I thanked the vet and assistant profusely, and told them that they needed to take the rest of the day off. As I was watching the vet finish his chart, I noticed the last two words:
VERY AGGRESSIVE!
We're all at home now, and our blood pressures are just about back to baseline. Mouser is sleeping in front of the fireplace, and my big ball of fluff is sleeping with his head on my shoe. Tinsel Ball is resting comfortably under the couch, like always.
I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that it is only 10:30.
Mouser was great - so great, in fact, that he didn't crap all over himself in the carrier, or nervously pee on the examination counter. He shedded like crazy, but he went through his exam with no trouble whatsoever. He's a chunky mouse these days, though - 15 pounds!
Fightin' Joe, on the other hand...
I tried to warn the lady at the front that he usually has to go to the "kitty dunk tank" - in other words, he usually gets knocked out so that the doctor may keep his limbs in tact and blood in his body. The assistant told me that the vet was going to see how far he could get, and then make a decision about knocking him out.
This vet was AWESOME, and his assistant was no slouch either. They managed to get Big Orange out of his carrier (which he really enjoys...seriously), keep Tinsel Ball in there, and put Orange on to the kitty scale with not a peep out of him. Twelve pounds.
Orange was moved to the examination table, and the vet was able to get his stethoscope under his belly, at which point, Joe's alter ego that we call "Cobra Cat" was unleashed.
Cobra Cat is mean, and loud. Mostly loud. Cobra Cat will sink back into his hind legs, gather up his energy, and then strike at anyone within three inches, baring his tartar-encrusted fangs and black-speckled gums.
Cobra Cat was no match for the vet and his assistant. Assistant held him by the scruff of his neck (giving him that lovely "Slow down! You're driving too fast!" look on his face), and later found out that he would also need to pin down his back legs. Cobra Cat must be restrained at all costs.
And then came the exorcism noises. Cobra Cat let out some of the most ungodly, primal noises I have ever heard. Assistant put a towel on CC's head after a couple of incidents that resulted in both Assistant AND Vet leaping back in fear, and tons of CC's fur being jettisoned off of his body. Tinsel Ball looked on silently, worriedly. As if the noise weren't bad enough, we were also all treated to the smell of Cobra Cat's rancid breath, which filled the room with each hiss. At one point, I said, "Buddy, your breath STINKS!," and Cobra Cat hissed at me in defiance.
To make a long story only somewhat shortish, Cobra Cat was given BOTH of his vaccines without the aide of anesthesia. He would not, however, give a fecal sample or let the vet check his ears. The only dental exam he got was what the vet was able to see when his fangs were bared.
My sweet orange cat returned once he was in the carrier, and we walked up front to pay. A man waiting with his pug in the reception area exclaimed, "I thought there was a tiger in there." I turned the carrier around to show him that Big Orange is, in some respect, a smallish tiger.
I thanked the vet and assistant profusely, and told them that they needed to take the rest of the day off. As I was watching the vet finish his chart, I noticed the last two words:
VERY AGGRESSIVE!
We're all at home now, and our blood pressures are just about back to baseline. Mouser is sleeping in front of the fireplace, and my big ball of fluff is sleeping with his head on my shoe. Tinsel Ball is resting comfortably under the couch, like always.
I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that it is only 10:30.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Static-Free
Mouser threw up last night. He heaved and hacked, and finally blew chunks on the carpet.
The culprit?
His midnight snack of choice: a dryer sheet that had fallen out of the laundry basket, and on to the bedroom floor.
A dryer sheet.
That is all.
The culprit?
His midnight snack of choice: a dryer sheet that had fallen out of the laundry basket, and on to the bedroom floor.
A dryer sheet.
That is all.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Tested
I ran up to school this morning to pick up my test scores from my anatomy pre-req re-test, and my physiology pre-req first-attempt. I was delighted to find that not only did I pass both, but I did about 20 points better on my second attempt at the anatomy pre-test. I was a little disappointed to find out, however, that because of the scheduling, I can not take both A & P this summer semester. I've really been trying to figure out a way in which I can avoid taking three classes in the fall semester that all end in "-ology", but I suppose that's just not meant to be. I am grateful (sort of) to not have a job, which means not having to worry about the whole work-school balance, which has been a battle I have been waging for the last ten years now. It can certainly be done, but boy is it difficult.
Tomorrow, I work the front desk at the museum and will probably have a meeting to coordinate my first docent tour of this new exhibit, which will be on Saturday morning. I am really looking forward to getting my feet wet on this exhibit, especially since I have SIX tours lined up for the month of June alone. After June, no tours again until the fall, since I will be in school during the daytime.
Speaking of the museum, we got an email last night from the executive director/curator, addressing further budget cuts. As a volunteer, I am not directly affected; however, it's hard to read about something that you love so much having difficulty. I realize that most arts organizations are dealing with this same issue, but at the same time, I've never been so involved with one before now.
Tomorrow, I work the front desk at the museum and will probably have a meeting to coordinate my first docent tour of this new exhibit, which will be on Saturday morning. I am really looking forward to getting my feet wet on this exhibit, especially since I have SIX tours lined up for the month of June alone. After June, no tours again until the fall, since I will be in school during the daytime.
Speaking of the museum, we got an email last night from the executive director/curator, addressing further budget cuts. As a volunteer, I am not directly affected; however, it's hard to read about something that you love so much having difficulty. I realize that most arts organizations are dealing with this same issue, but at the same time, I've never been so involved with one before now.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Inspection, Schmecktion
In spite of everything that transpired today, we managed to make it over to the new place for the inspection. As soon as we walked through the front door, the inspector greeted us with, "You must be the Petersons!"
Um, no.
He went over everything with us, and thankfully, the house is in immaculate condition. The roof (which was replaced in April 2009) has a couple of spots where the shingles weren't affixed properly, and the wooden floor in front of the garage door creaks a bit, but aside from that, the only things on his list were the components of a fine "Honey Do" list. The water heater is about 12 years old, but that is under warranty to us, so we are hoping that if it decides to blow, it does so within the first year that we own it.
We deicded to ask them to repair or fix about half a dozen things, and we should be done negotiating that within a day or two. After that, it's time to get an appraisal, and then wait for the financing to go through.
Rose, our relator, was telling us today that she really believes that the reason we got the house was because we said the current owners can stay there until 7/20 or longer if needed (we have our apartment until 8/31). According to her, the seller's realtor said the other offer was much higher than ours was. Maybe it's karma. Maybe this was just supposed to be our house. Who knows. At any rate, I am happy that the planets have been in alignment thus far.
Um, no.
He went over everything with us, and thankfully, the house is in immaculate condition. The roof (which was replaced in April 2009) has a couple of spots where the shingles weren't affixed properly, and the wooden floor in front of the garage door creaks a bit, but aside from that, the only things on his list were the components of a fine "Honey Do" list. The water heater is about 12 years old, but that is under warranty to us, so we are hoping that if it decides to blow, it does so within the first year that we own it.
We deicded to ask them to repair or fix about half a dozen things, and we should be done negotiating that within a day or two. After that, it's time to get an appraisal, and then wait for the financing to go through.
Rose, our relator, was telling us today that she really believes that the reason we got the house was because we said the current owners can stay there until 7/20 or longer if needed (we have our apartment until 8/31). According to her, the seller's realtor said the other offer was much higher than ours was. Maybe it's karma. Maybe this was just supposed to be our house. Who knows. At any rate, I am happy that the planets have been in alignment thus far.
Expect the Unexpected
Neither K nor I have purchased a house before, so the last bit of May, all of June and half of July has been, and will be, a huge learning experience for us. Thankfully, we have a few brain cells to rub together. One of the things I like most about being married to K is that we are a TEAM. I have always felt that we make a good team, whether it was while teaching dance lessons, working together professionally, or navigating whatever life has handed to us. The fact that I feel like we can overcome whatever comes our way is something that I would not trade for the world.
One of the things I never would have planned for while buying a house is blatant theft. More specifically, blatant theft of $900 from K's checking account. The rat bastard has his online banking information, his PIN, and $900.
Today, we are scheduled to have the house inspected, and I will be paying for that, rather unexpectedly. We are able to do it, but not with the cushion that we originally had. Apparently, the theft is being resolved by the bank, but final resolution will be in ten business days.
So I guess the moral of the story today is, well, not a moral at all, but rather, trying to remind myself of what I already know: 1) we will get through this; 2) always expect the unexpected.
The expected is just so nice, though!
One of the things I never would have planned for while buying a house is blatant theft. More specifically, blatant theft of $900 from K's checking account. The rat bastard has his online banking information, his PIN, and $900.
Today, we are scheduled to have the house inspected, and I will be paying for that, rather unexpectedly. We are able to do it, but not with the cushion that we originally had. Apparently, the theft is being resolved by the bank, but final resolution will be in ten business days.
So I guess the moral of the story today is, well, not a moral at all, but rather, trying to remind myself of what I already know: 1) we will get through this; 2) always expect the unexpected.
The expected is just so nice, though!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Memory
The museum where I volunteer, the Austin Museum of Art (downtown), recently got a new exhibition: "The Lining of Forgetting: Internal and External Memory in Art." Sounds very cerebral, right?
We had our docent training last Friday, where the curator, Xandra Eden, came to speak about the show. The whole exhibit is comprised of works of art by artists whose pieces are influenced by the idea of memory - what it is, how we create and preserve memories, what happens to them as we age, and what our modern reliance upon technology (particularly as a storage device) does to our memories. It is a fantastic exhibit that really highlights something that I have taken a strong interest in lately - the idea that science and art can co-exist and influence one another in a major way.
At first glance, I thought this show would be especially difficult to make "accessible" to the everyday museum visitor. Perhaps people would not really be receptive to such a metaphysical discussion. Perhaps the show would go far, far over school-aged kids' heads. Perhaps visitors would find boring a discussion teetering between the brain and the brush (or picture, or sculpture, whatever).
Perhaps I don't have enough faith in the everyday museum visitor!
After our brainstorming session today, I discovered how positively rife with potential this exhibit is. We all have memories, and we interact with them daily, whether it is by choice or not. We have our private, insular memories, and we have shared experiences. We have cultural memories as certain ethnic groups, as a country, as a specific religion. We have muscle memory in our bodies that allow us to repeat, without much effort, monumental tasks such as walking or riding a bike. Memories are everywhere.
I really like the idea that one of the docents brought up - the idea that we can never truly look at something new in a fresh way. In other words, you might come across a new kind of car you have never seen before, but it's not entirely foreign to you. Maybe its shape reminds you of an animal, or its colour is that of your parents' car from your childhood. Maybe the hubcaps remind you of that great restaurant in New Orleans where they cook burgers under old hubcaps. Suddenly, this new car is not so new to you. Our memories constantly influence what we see, and how we perceive those things.
I also like the idea that the choices that artists make (either in their media, colour choices, placement of objects, shadowing, etc.) greatly affect what our personal experience is with their art. Is all art propaganda in that respect? Are artists capable of pulling us along, and guiding us into feeling a certain way about whatever the subject is, or do we always bring our own eyes and opinions to the experience, as well as our own memories?
One of the pieces that really made an impact on me is a series of old-school-looking slides, flipping by on a projector aimed at the last wall as you walk out of the galleries. In every slide is an outdoor shot, with the artist placing his thumb squarely over the sun in order to block it out. The artist based his work on a technique invented by Galileo, who would use his thumb to block out the sun (the known) in order to explore other celestial bodies in the sky (the unknown). The idea is that, in order to make room for more memories and more knowledge (the unknown), sometimes, we have to block out old information (the known). It seems a very poetic way to end the show, and leaves me pondering what I will remember about today, and what I will forget.
We had our docent training last Friday, where the curator, Xandra Eden, came to speak about the show. The whole exhibit is comprised of works of art by artists whose pieces are influenced by the idea of memory - what it is, how we create and preserve memories, what happens to them as we age, and what our modern reliance upon technology (particularly as a storage device) does to our memories. It is a fantastic exhibit that really highlights something that I have taken a strong interest in lately - the idea that science and art can co-exist and influence one another in a major way.
At first glance, I thought this show would be especially difficult to make "accessible" to the everyday museum visitor. Perhaps people would not really be receptive to such a metaphysical discussion. Perhaps the show would go far, far over school-aged kids' heads. Perhaps visitors would find boring a discussion teetering between the brain and the brush (or picture, or sculpture, whatever).
Perhaps I don't have enough faith in the everyday museum visitor!
After our brainstorming session today, I discovered how positively rife with potential this exhibit is. We all have memories, and we interact with them daily, whether it is by choice or not. We have our private, insular memories, and we have shared experiences. We have cultural memories as certain ethnic groups, as a country, as a specific religion. We have muscle memory in our bodies that allow us to repeat, without much effort, monumental tasks such as walking or riding a bike. Memories are everywhere.
I really like the idea that one of the docents brought up - the idea that we can never truly look at something new in a fresh way. In other words, you might come across a new kind of car you have never seen before, but it's not entirely foreign to you. Maybe its shape reminds you of an animal, or its colour is that of your parents' car from your childhood. Maybe the hubcaps remind you of that great restaurant in New Orleans where they cook burgers under old hubcaps. Suddenly, this new car is not so new to you. Our memories constantly influence what we see, and how we perceive those things.
I also like the idea that the choices that artists make (either in their media, colour choices, placement of objects, shadowing, etc.) greatly affect what our personal experience is with their art. Is all art propaganda in that respect? Are artists capable of pulling us along, and guiding us into feeling a certain way about whatever the subject is, or do we always bring our own eyes and opinions to the experience, as well as our own memories?
One of the pieces that really made an impact on me is a series of old-school-looking slides, flipping by on a projector aimed at the last wall as you walk out of the galleries. In every slide is an outdoor shot, with the artist placing his thumb squarely over the sun in order to block it out. The artist based his work on a technique invented by Galileo, who would use his thumb to block out the sun (the known) in order to explore other celestial bodies in the sky (the unknown). The idea is that, in order to make room for more memories and more knowledge (the unknown), sometimes, we have to block out old information (the known). It seems a very poetic way to end the show, and leaves me pondering what I will remember about today, and what I will forget.
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