Today at work I did a foot x-ray on a woman who had injured herself while chasing her toddler down the stairs. She had the look of someone who hasn’t gotten much sleep, and was very self conscious about having me touch her feet during the exam—apologizing in advance for any dirt or odor. I told her not to worry about it and did my best to put her at her ease in a manner รก la Dad: telling her all my best stinky feet stories and jokes. (I even got her to crack a smile as I walked her back to her room.)
As I opened the door to exam room 2, I saw the aforementioned toddler and an older boy of eight busily tugging on the paper that covers the padded examination table—happily creating a tangled heap of the crackly paper—almost as if it were a giant roll of toilet paper. The eight year old had the sense to quickly drop his end of the paper and point to the toddler saying, “Mom, can you believe what Ashton did?! I was trying to stop him when you came in.” The woman flushed and attempted to apologize while executing a rather unsuccessful swoop towards the offending heap of paper.
I bit my cheek to keep from laughing and plucked the squealing toddler (who was now waist deep in paper) out of the mess and handed him to his mother after guiding her to a seat. I gave her a wink and said, “Don’t worry. Kids happen.” The eight year old, who I discovered was named Jeremy, helped me gather the paper into a big wad while wearing an expression calculated to impress me with saint-like longsuffering for the ruckus his brother had caused. Ashton didn’t seem to mind taking the blame as long as we kept on making all those delightful scrunching noises…His mother just sighed and rolled her eyes as the suddenly virtuous Jeremy quietly took a seat next to her.
I left the room and stuffed the enormous wad into the break room garbage can and went back to my cubby to finish her paperwork. (And I mean cubby…it’s a converted supply closet. The fact that it is now door-less is meant to make those of us who use it less claustrophobic.) Twenty minutes went by and I had briefly forgotten about the woman and her mischievous boys, until I heard the soft thump that is the tell-tale sign of an ankle boot or cast.
Sure enough, the exhausted mother was slowly thumping her way down the hall in the thick black plastic boot while trying to maintain a firm hold on the curious toddler. Meanwhile, Jeremy trudged alongside her, wearing the sullen pout of a child who has just received a “talking to.” I couldn’t help listening to their conversation as they passed my cubby. Jeremy was anxious to know all about his mom’s new shoe, while still trying to appear aloof…
“Mom, do you really have to wear that thing all the time?”
Sigh. “Yes, sweetie.”
“Well, for how long?”
“A month. But we’ll come back to the doctor’s in a few weeks to see how my foot is doing.”
“A whole month?!” The indifferent tone of voice slipped a bit on that last remark, and there was a moment of awed silence as Jeremy contemplated such a vast ocean of time…then, “But mom, that means you’ll have this huge ugly foot for a long time!”
She stopped walking for a moment to look at her son and say, “I know, Jer. Thanks for pointing it out.”
This break in movement lasted long enough for the toddler to smack his half-sucked DumDum against her boot experimentally—no doubt testing the sound quality of a potential new drum. Apparently it met with his approval because he beamed a two-tooth smile that leaked a wave a drool down his chin and into the cracks of her boot, and said, “Have it, mama?” She glanced down at the sticky plastic encasing her leg and then at the sweet baby smiling up at her.
I was waiting to see if she suddenly snapped into tears or rage, but all she did was regain her grasp on the baby, take hold of Jeremy’s hand, sigh and say, “Yes. Mommy’s had it. And when we get home, it’s daddy’s turn.”
I watched her thump her way down the hall to the parking lot with as much dignity as a bedraggled woman toting two kids while wearing a squelchy ankle brace can muster.I can only hope that it was a short drive home…
And I really hope there was a nap waiting for her when she got there.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Testing...testing...123?
Well, I've been mildly chastised again for not updating my blog often enough. (What is it with you people? Is my life really so fascinating?...Just kidding!) So I thought I would appease the masses (meaning all four of you who read this) with another thrilling adventure....Okay, so when I say thrilling, I mean something more along the lines of "hectic," but that's just nitpicking, isn't it?
It's been a crazy couple of weeks for us in the Madsen/States home. As many of you know, we've had birthdays galore this month; Chrissy, Brian, Dad...and that's kept us running around for a bit. :) But it's also been an eventful month for me at school. I'm in the process of studying to take an exam for my state limited license--which would allow me to start earning money in this fabulous field. (So exciting!)
I've been going a little crazy stressing out over whether or not I'm over-preparing for this thing. And in the midst of all my angst I've also had several other tests in my regular coursework. (Can you say frazzled?) However, to toot my own horn here, I have gotten some awesome scores even through the stress. I earned straight 100s on both my sectional anatomy and radiographic positioning exams. And I even got a 92 on my physics exam!! (It must be that extra sleep I'm trying work in...I've been trying really hard to do the whole "healthy living" thing.) In fact, I'm so jazzed about this last test, that I thought I would take a picture to show you just how awesome I did:
Cue shocked screams and crazy faces:
SURPRISE! (It sure was one for us!!) Patrick has been very sweet about trying to keep me calm between bouts of panic...I didn't really plan for this on my timeline, what with school and all. But he's so excited to be a daddy, that it's just contagious! After I spend time around him I find I have a strong urge to start making baby booties and such! I'm not very far along, about 4 weeks we think; but I'm already under lots of monitoring at my school and clinical site since I work around radiation. (Don't worry, I'm...well, I suppose I should say "we" are being kept VERY safe!)
I'm still trying to wrap my head around becoming a mother, and I find myself thinking of my mom a lot. I really would have liked to have her here; but she was always saying "find joy in the journey!" And I've made a promise to myself to enjoy these next months and years as much as I possibly can. Besides, what could be better than carrying a little "bundle of joy" around with you all the time to remind you, right?!
Love you all!
It's been a crazy couple of weeks for us in the Madsen/States home. As many of you know, we've had birthdays galore this month; Chrissy, Brian, Dad...and that's kept us running around for a bit. :) But it's also been an eventful month for me at school. I'm in the process of studying to take an exam for my state limited license--which would allow me to start earning money in this fabulous field. (So exciting!)
I've been going a little crazy stressing out over whether or not I'm over-preparing for this thing. And in the midst of all my angst I've also had several other tests in my regular coursework. (Can you say frazzled?) However, to toot my own horn here, I have gotten some awesome scores even through the stress. I earned straight 100s on both my sectional anatomy and radiographic positioning exams. And I even got a 92 on my physics exam!! (It must be that extra sleep I'm trying work in...I've been trying really hard to do the whole "healthy living" thing.) In fact, I'm so jazzed about this last test, that I thought I would take a picture to show you just how awesome I did:
Cue shocked screams and crazy faces:
SURPRISE! (It sure was one for us!!) Patrick has been very sweet about trying to keep me calm between bouts of panic...I didn't really plan for this on my timeline, what with school and all. But he's so excited to be a daddy, that it's just contagious! After I spend time around him I find I have a strong urge to start making baby booties and such! I'm not very far along, about 4 weeks we think; but I'm already under lots of monitoring at my school and clinical site since I work around radiation. (Don't worry, I'm...well, I suppose I should say "we" are being kept VERY safe!)
I'm still trying to wrap my head around becoming a mother, and I find myself thinking of my mom a lot. I really would have liked to have her here; but she was always saying "find joy in the journey!" And I've made a promise to myself to enjoy these next months and years as much as I possibly can. Besides, what could be better than carrying a little "bundle of joy" around with you all the time to remind you, right?!
Love you all!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Ahh, Valentines....
This is my first time experimenting with music on my blog, so everybody wish me luck...(P.S. I have tried and tried to fix the sideways pics in the slideshow, but it's not working. Guess you're just gonna have to turn your head...or leave me advice on how to fix it!)
Something rare and wonderful happened today in my marriage. You know how you develop a routine as a couple? (i.e.: Coming home from work you know the first thing your guy does is drop his stinky shoes and socks in front of the couch before he stretches out. And he knows that you'll always be five minutes late for church or a date because your still putting on your mascara and brushing your teeth. Stuff like that...)And, accordingly you begin to adjust your plans around that routine. Well, one of Patch and my routines when grocery shopping is to stop by the Redbox machine. It usually goes something like this:
Me: "Oh crap. I forgot to grab the deodorant. Will you run and grab it while I get in line?"
Patrick: "Why?"
Me: "Because you have longer legs and can walk faster."
Patrick: [Smiles and rolls his eyes.] "Fine. I'm going to look at Redbox on the way out."
Me: "That's fine. Thanks, love."
After we finish checking out, I stand behind him as he browses through the selection and picks something with suitable testosterone levels like Gran Torino or Zombieland. I don't mind. I'm usually studying somewhere else while he and dad watch it.
But today I had finished most of my homework at the theatre--it was the slowest day ever. I only had one sale--and I wanted to hang out and relax when I got home. So I asked if he would mind if I picked a movie this time (and yes, it would definitely be girly). Now, get this folks, he smiled, stepped aside and "sure."
Okay, okay, so I know that's probably not a moment you'd associate with trumpets and an angelic chorus, but for me, it kind of was. It's those little moments of unselfish giving and flexibility that remind me why I fell in love. He didn't have to say that; after all, he'd had a really long day too. But he did. He even watched the movie with me, and he didn't mock it once!
And that's why my hubby is the winner of the "Best Ever Valentine" award. Love you, sweets.
Something rare and wonderful happened today in my marriage. You know how you develop a routine as a couple? (i.e.: Coming home from work you know the first thing your guy does is drop his stinky shoes and socks in front of the couch before he stretches out. And he knows that you'll always be five minutes late for church or a date because your still putting on your mascara and brushing your teeth. Stuff like that...)And, accordingly you begin to adjust your plans around that routine. Well, one of Patch and my routines when grocery shopping is to stop by the Redbox machine. It usually goes something like this:
Me: "Oh crap. I forgot to grab the deodorant. Will you run and grab it while I get in line?"
Patrick: "Why?"
Me: "Because you have longer legs and can walk faster."
Patrick: [Smiles and rolls his eyes.] "Fine. I'm going to look at Redbox on the way out."
Me: "That's fine. Thanks, love."
After we finish checking out, I stand behind him as he browses through the selection and picks something with suitable testosterone levels like Gran Torino or Zombieland. I don't mind. I'm usually studying somewhere else while he and dad watch it.
But today I had finished most of my homework at the theatre--it was the slowest day ever. I only had one sale--and I wanted to hang out and relax when I got home. So I asked if he would mind if I picked a movie this time (and yes, it would definitely be girly). Now, get this folks, he smiled, stepped aside and "sure."
Okay, okay, so I know that's probably not a moment you'd associate with trumpets and an angelic chorus, but for me, it kind of was. It's those little moments of unselfish giving and flexibility that remind me why I fell in love. He didn't have to say that; after all, he'd had a really long day too. But he did. He even watched the movie with me, and he didn't mock it once!
And that's why my hubby is the winner of the "Best Ever Valentine" award. Love you, sweets.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The #1 Rule on this Ship is...
Today I saw the funniest thing ever! But before I tell you, I will have to explain why it was so hilarious. (Now, for those of you who've already heard this story, I'm sure you'll enjoy laughing at my pain again...)
A while back I was visiting my sister Chrissy for the afternoon; and, as per usual, we ended up downstairs in the sewing room. We were talking, and crafting, and the kids were in the background playing. Well, at one point we moved into the laundry room so Chrissy could switch over a batch a flannel destined to become pajama pants--and we passed Evie, who happened to be playing with her doctor kit. She was talking a mile-a-minute (again, as per usual) and desperately trying to get our attention. Unfortunately for me, we sort of tuned her out and continued our conversation with mumbled "mm-hmm's" and "sure, sweetie's" when she managed to get a word in edgewise. Little did I know how soon I would regret my nonchalant behavior toward this determined toddler...
(I would like to add a disclaimer at this point: That, while I'm still not entirely certain how the following events unfolded, I am sure that my account captures the gist of the exchange.)
Apparently, as I was engrossed in my conversation, Evie informed me that "she was the doctor and I was the patient." To which I said, "mm-hmm."
She then told me, "You should say: Okay, Doctor. Okay, patient?...Okay?...Say: Okay Doctor....Patient?...You say: Okay Doctor..." This broken record routine continued until I gave a suitable response. And then, this is where I get hazy on the details, she must have said something to the effect of, "I'm going to take your temperature, okay?" And, like and idiot, I said, "Mmm-hmm. Okay Doctor."
This next part I remember very vividly, as suddenly I felt a stabbing point of pain between my buttocks. This little three-year-old girl had jammed a plastic toy thermometer between my legs with enough force to leave a dent in my rear! (At this point, I seriously questioned my sister's choice of thermometers, if this is how her toddler learned to take someone's temperature! However, when I checked, she had a regular oral thermometer...and I was just the wounded victim of an infantile approach to medecine. I couldn't sit comfortably for the next two days!)
Well, needless to say, we had a serious talk about appropriate ways to take somebody's temperature and why we shouldn't probe them without warning. Apparently that message stuck because the next time I saw her, we ended up playing spaceship--she, of course, was the captain--and she loudly announced that the number one rule on the ship was: no probing. (I still end up doubled over with laughter whenever she brings it up! It's become our inside joke.)
So, back to today: I was watching the newest episode of Bones, one of my favorite TV shows, and it was set down in Roswell, New Mexico--tying in with the whole alien abduction thing--and the closing lines are:
"No probing! I know how you people like to probe!"
I kid you not when I say that, I--who have never been pregnant, nor had bladder issues--literally wet myself a little as I laughed myself off a chair! Oh, Evie! It made me think of you!
A while back I was visiting my sister Chrissy for the afternoon; and, as per usual, we ended up downstairs in the sewing room. We were talking, and crafting, and the kids were in the background playing. Well, at one point we moved into the laundry room so Chrissy could switch over a batch a flannel destined to become pajama pants--and we passed Evie, who happened to be playing with her doctor kit. She was talking a mile-a-minute (again, as per usual) and desperately trying to get our attention. Unfortunately for me, we sort of tuned her out and continued our conversation with mumbled "mm-hmm's" and "sure, sweetie's" when she managed to get a word in edgewise. Little did I know how soon I would regret my nonchalant behavior toward this determined toddler...
(I would like to add a disclaimer at this point: That, while I'm still not entirely certain how the following events unfolded, I am sure that my account captures the gist of the exchange.)
Apparently, as I was engrossed in my conversation, Evie informed me that "she was the doctor and I was the patient." To which I said, "mm-hmm."
She then told me, "You should say: Okay, Doctor. Okay, patient?...Okay?...Say: Okay Doctor....Patient?...You say: Okay Doctor..." This broken record routine continued until I gave a suitable response. And then, this is where I get hazy on the details, she must have said something to the effect of, "I'm going to take your temperature, okay?" And, like and idiot, I said, "Mmm-hmm. Okay Doctor."
This next part I remember very vividly, as suddenly I felt a stabbing point of pain between my buttocks. This little three-year-old girl had jammed a plastic toy thermometer between my legs with enough force to leave a dent in my rear! (At this point, I seriously questioned my sister's choice of thermometers, if this is how her toddler learned to take someone's temperature! However, when I checked, she had a regular oral thermometer...and I was just the wounded victim of an infantile approach to medecine. I couldn't sit comfortably for the next two days!)
Well, needless to say, we had a serious talk about appropriate ways to take somebody's temperature and why we shouldn't probe them without warning. Apparently that message stuck because the next time I saw her, we ended up playing spaceship--she, of course, was the captain--and she loudly announced that the number one rule on the ship was: no probing. (I still end up doubled over with laughter whenever she brings it up! It's become our inside joke.)
So, back to today: I was watching the newest episode of Bones, one of my favorite TV shows, and it was set down in Roswell, New Mexico--tying in with the whole alien abduction thing--and the closing lines are:
"No probing! I know how you people like to probe!"
I kid you not when I say that, I--who have never been pregnant, nor had bladder issues--literally wet myself a little as I laughed myself off a chair! Oh, Evie! It made me think of you!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Drive-By Shootings
I love old people. More to the point, I love old patients...the sweet, doddering kind who have a perpetually vacant smile and nod a lot.
Today I was doing a shoulder exam on a sweet little old lady with hair like a frosted cupcake and skin like vintage linen. As I was putting the cassette into the bucky, I asked her why we were doing the exam; to which she replied, "That young man hurt my arm at the drive-by shooting." I did a double take to make sure I hadn't somehow missed copious amounts of blood or bandaging...nope, nothing there...
Feeling a little more than confused, I continued to position her and asked her where this had happened and if anybody had been seriously hurt. She just smiled her dazed little smile and said,"Oh, it was probably just me. He stuck the needle in pretty far." After some more convoluted conversation I finally worked out what she meant.
The American Red Cross had a trailer in a parking lot down the street sponsoring a "Drive-Thru the Flu" event. You could pull up in your car and they would give you your flu shot through the window. Well, the guy who gave her the shot didn't factor in her lack of muscle and accidentally struck her bone--making her arm really sore.
It was so funny, I couldn't help giggling a little! Luckily though, I got under control enough to finish her exam. Sometimes I think it would be fun to work in a geriatric ward...I imagine it would be a lot like that show Kids Say the Darndest Things. Except these kids would have walkers and bedpans...
Today I was doing a shoulder exam on a sweet little old lady with hair like a frosted cupcake and skin like vintage linen. As I was putting the cassette into the bucky, I asked her why we were doing the exam; to which she replied, "That young man hurt my arm at the drive-by shooting." I did a double take to make sure I hadn't somehow missed copious amounts of blood or bandaging...nope, nothing there...
Feeling a little more than confused, I continued to position her and asked her where this had happened and if anybody had been seriously hurt. She just smiled her dazed little smile and said,"Oh, it was probably just me. He stuck the needle in pretty far." After some more convoluted conversation I finally worked out what she meant.
The American Red Cross had a trailer in a parking lot down the street sponsoring a "Drive-Thru the Flu" event. You could pull up in your car and they would give you your flu shot through the window. Well, the guy who gave her the shot didn't factor in her lack of muscle and accidentally struck her bone--making her arm really sore.
It was so funny, I couldn't help giggling a little! Luckily though, I got under control enough to finish her exam. Sometimes I think it would be fun to work in a geriatric ward...I imagine it would be a lot like that show Kids Say the Darndest Things. Except these kids would have walkers and bedpans...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Pride Goeth Before a Fall...
Okay, for those of you who don't know, my man Patrick finally got a job about two months ago working for a cable contractor. We were so excited to finally get a break! (And I was so excited when he got tired of quoting Jim Carrey's Cable Guy after about the second week.) However, we were in uncharted waters as we slowly discovered what his job really entailed. It's been kind of a steep learning curve for us at times. (And when I say "us," I mean "him"...most of the time.)
For my part, I never really pictured cable guys as the Steve Irwin of installers...I thought they were more along the lines of Jacques Cousteau. Y'know, difficult to understand and rather bland on the people skills scale. Turns out I was wrong. It's a good thing Patch is part spider monkey, because this job has him climbing up phone poles and contorting into all kinds of odd positions, just for the sake of the almighty HD channel. And this last week, he became very familiar with the phrase "had to learn the hard way."
I was almost finished at the clinic when I got an unexpected phone call from him. Before I even finished saying "hello" I hear: "Caite, I got in an accident." Then before I can form the question he added a rushed, "But I'm okay. Don't worry." (Has that phrase ever had the intended effect in all of history?...Don't worry, Mrs. Smith, it's only a minor contusion. You'll be back to rights in no time...Nope. I don't think so.)
Well, since I knew he was healthy enough to call me, I let my panic slip into worry for his equipment the company loaned him. We don't have the money to replace anything. And once that concern was addressed, my brain could finally focus on the story of what exactly happened...
The long and short of it was that he was preparing to connect a wire to a customer's roof. He had his ladder balanced on the icy alley between the fence and the house, and was standing on the top rung when he suddenly sneezed; and that little convulsion was enough to shake the ladder from it's spot--sending him tumbling down into the 3 foot wide space. Somehow, to our very great fortune and luck, he managed to land in a little snow drift...after tearing his pants from ankle to crotch and nearly impaling his leg on a fence post.
The Pants
The Thermals
The nasty bruise/welt on the upper thigh.
I guess the truly lucky part is that--apart from his sudden tenderness, and ability to change color--he didn't even come home limping. You wouldn't even know he was hurt to look at him! (Just ticked off.) So, may I say thanks to any and all of you who pray for us: it's working!
For my part, I never really pictured cable guys as the Steve Irwin of installers...I thought they were more along the lines of Jacques Cousteau. Y'know, difficult to understand and rather bland on the people skills scale. Turns out I was wrong. It's a good thing Patch is part spider monkey, because this job has him climbing up phone poles and contorting into all kinds of odd positions, just for the sake of the almighty HD channel. And this last week, he became very familiar with the phrase "had to learn the hard way."
I was almost finished at the clinic when I got an unexpected phone call from him. Before I even finished saying "hello" I hear: "Caite, I got in an accident." Then before I can form the question he added a rushed, "But I'm okay. Don't worry." (Has that phrase ever had the intended effect in all of history?...Don't worry, Mrs. Smith, it's only a minor contusion. You'll be back to rights in no time...Nope. I don't think so.)
Well, since I knew he was healthy enough to call me, I let my panic slip into worry for his equipment the company loaned him. We don't have the money to replace anything. And once that concern was addressed, my brain could finally focus on the story of what exactly happened...
The long and short of it was that he was preparing to connect a wire to a customer's roof. He had his ladder balanced on the icy alley between the fence and the house, and was standing on the top rung when he suddenly sneezed; and that little convulsion was enough to shake the ladder from it's spot--sending him tumbling down into the 3 foot wide space. Somehow, to our very great fortune and luck, he managed to land in a little snow drift...after tearing his pants from ankle to crotch and nearly impaling his leg on a fence post.
The Pants
The Thermals
The nasty bruise/welt on the upper thigh.
I guess the truly lucky part is that--apart from his sudden tenderness, and ability to change color--he didn't even come home limping. You wouldn't even know he was hurt to look at him! (Just ticked off.) So, may I say thanks to any and all of you who pray for us: it's working!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Happy Surprises
Today was my first day back in class after winter break. I woke up in a panic at 3:00 am after having a nightmare in which my clinical instructor asked me to do an L-Spine exam on a patient and I went, "L-Spine? What's that? Do I have one? What do I do with it?!"
I struggled to go back to sleep and woke up again at five to find myself chanting: "L-spine. Lumbar spine. Lower back. Got it. PIP Joint. Proximal Interphalangeal Joint. Middle knuckle. Got it. MLO. Medial Lateral Oblique projection. Angled from middle to side. Got it...."
Anywho, after finally waking up for good at six and getting ready, I ended up being about 20 minutes early for class. Which turned out to be okay as I, and a few other equally paranoid individuals, helped each other de-stress before class began.
Luckily I found I was able to get back into the rhythm of the lessons with relative ease. And it helped to sooth my ragged academic confidence when my hand kept rising of its own accord during review sessions. (Apparently all my previous knowledge of anatomy, etc. is stored in my right index finger. Not unlike Fozzi's Mr. Bimbo from Muppet Treasure Island. He seems to know even if my brain is still processing the question.) It was a very happy surprise.
And happier still: when I checked my phone after class, I found a very sweet message from my wonderful husband wishing my luck and boosting my confidence from afar. I felt like the warm bubble in my chest could power the "high voltage circuitry, three phase rectifier" that had zapped my brain in physics. (You made my day, sweetie!)
And joy upon joy, when I finally plunked my bag down in the hall and picked up the mail, what should I find but two cards with my name on them, and not a bill in sight! One wished Patch and I a happy anniversary. (It's two years for us now!) And the other was from the University congratulating me on making the honor roll last semester. (Which was news to me!) Happy day, indeed!
So, before I go to tackle my homework, I wish all of you a happy surprise to put some sunshine in your day.
I struggled to go back to sleep and woke up again at five to find myself chanting: "L-spine. Lumbar spine. Lower back. Got it. PIP Joint. Proximal Interphalangeal Joint. Middle knuckle. Got it. MLO. Medial Lateral Oblique projection. Angled from middle to side. Got it...."
Anywho, after finally waking up for good at six and getting ready, I ended up being about 20 minutes early for class. Which turned out to be okay as I, and a few other equally paranoid individuals, helped each other de-stress before class began.
Luckily I found I was able to get back into the rhythm of the lessons with relative ease. And it helped to sooth my ragged academic confidence when my hand kept rising of its own accord during review sessions. (Apparently all my previous knowledge of anatomy, etc. is stored in my right index finger. Not unlike Fozzi's Mr. Bimbo from Muppet Treasure Island. He seems to know even if my brain is still processing the question.) It was a very happy surprise.
And happier still: when I checked my phone after class, I found a very sweet message from my wonderful husband wishing my luck and boosting my confidence from afar. I felt like the warm bubble in my chest could power the "high voltage circuitry, three phase rectifier" that had zapped my brain in physics. (You made my day, sweetie!)
And joy upon joy, when I finally plunked my bag down in the hall and picked up the mail, what should I find but two cards with my name on them, and not a bill in sight! One wished Patch and I a happy anniversary. (It's two years for us now!) And the other was from the University congratulating me on making the honor roll last semester. (Which was news to me!) Happy day, indeed!
So, before I go to tackle my homework, I wish all of you a happy surprise to put some sunshine in your day.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Blog Nazis and New Year's Resolutions
Before I begin, I would like to send a warm karmic hello out into the universe on this fine January day, and wish you all a very happy New Year. I would also like to dedicate this post to my sister, the blog nazi, who threatened me at the point of a knitting needle...love you, Chris!
Well, as I'm sure we are all aware, New Year's has come once more and the siren call of a pristine and unsullied future beckons... a dream which lasts for about five minutes before Reality drags you back to the daily grind, kicking and screaming. In all honesty folks, I've never felt New Year's to be a particularly joyful holiday. For me, it has always had more of the tone of a starting pistol at race--or an unwelcome alarm clock intruding on a pleasant dream--they both seem to shout at you, saying,"Go now! Start changing! Are you a better person yet? Well, are you?!" It makes me tired.
Therefore, I have figuratively stuck it to Father Time by pressing my metaphorical snooze button. I have resolved to take my own sweet time in becoming a better human being. Not to say I won't try, but rather that I refuse to be bullied into it all at once. And anyway, in what universe is it practical to change so suddenly?
For example, this morning I was standing in line at the bank inside Dick's Market place, waiting to cash my check. Ahead of me were two suburbanistas (my new word for the particular breed of "super Mom" that inhabits the greater area of the Wasatch Front--I think it's quite catchy, don't you?) who were busy chatting away the tedium of the wait. As I listened quietly behind them their talk turned to their New Year's goals.
One woman was complaining that ever since she decided to take control of her family's finances her life seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Apparently this lady--who, to judge by her conversation, has never used a computer except for checking email and shopping online--went out first thing after the holidays and bought some fancy new software that claimed it could organize your entire financial portfolio in a matter of minutes with minimal effort on your part. However, even after overcoming her "technical difficulties," it apparently lacks the magical power to make you physically stop spending. After two days of rigid documentation, this woman was in such despair over knowing, in precise detail, how dismal her shopping habits were, that she revoked her resolution because she "just couldn't handle it." Isn't that just sad?
So I repeat, I refuse to make life altering decisions at the drop of a hat--or ball, as it were--simply because it is tradition. I have made no new budgets, I do not plan on trying an exercise regimen I know to be out of my league simply because I want to look nice for swimsuit season, and I have no intention of giving up chocolate or white cheddar cheetos in favor of steamed broccoli and "light" yogurt.
I have decided to look for at least one nice thing in everybody who bugs me and comment on it. I have decided to be more prudent in managing my study time. And I have decided to smile at my reflection first thing every morning--no matter how pasty white and puffy-eyed it is. And I believe that I as tackle three small goals, one day at a time, I might learn to take on more. If I do, I let you know. Heck, I might even blog regularly... :)
Happy New Year's everybody.
Well, as I'm sure we are all aware, New Year's has come once more and the siren call of a pristine and unsullied future beckons... a dream which lasts for about five minutes before Reality drags you back to the daily grind, kicking and screaming. In all honesty folks, I've never felt New Year's to be a particularly joyful holiday. For me, it has always had more of the tone of a starting pistol at race--or an unwelcome alarm clock intruding on a pleasant dream--they both seem to shout at you, saying,"Go now! Start changing! Are you a better person yet? Well, are you?!" It makes me tired.
Therefore, I have figuratively stuck it to Father Time by pressing my metaphorical snooze button. I have resolved to take my own sweet time in becoming a better human being. Not to say I won't try, but rather that I refuse to be bullied into it all at once. And anyway, in what universe is it practical to change so suddenly?
For example, this morning I was standing in line at the bank inside Dick's Market place, waiting to cash my check. Ahead of me were two suburbanistas (my new word for the particular breed of "super Mom" that inhabits the greater area of the Wasatch Front--I think it's quite catchy, don't you?) who were busy chatting away the tedium of the wait. As I listened quietly behind them their talk turned to their New Year's goals.
One woman was complaining that ever since she decided to take control of her family's finances her life seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Apparently this lady--who, to judge by her conversation, has never used a computer except for checking email and shopping online--went out first thing after the holidays and bought some fancy new software that claimed it could organize your entire financial portfolio in a matter of minutes with minimal effort on your part. However, even after overcoming her "technical difficulties," it apparently lacks the magical power to make you physically stop spending. After two days of rigid documentation, this woman was in such despair over knowing, in precise detail, how dismal her shopping habits were, that she revoked her resolution because she "just couldn't handle it." Isn't that just sad?
So I repeat, I refuse to make life altering decisions at the drop of a hat--or ball, as it were--simply because it is tradition. I have made no new budgets, I do not plan on trying an exercise regimen I know to be out of my league simply because I want to look nice for swimsuit season, and I have no intention of giving up chocolate or white cheddar cheetos in favor of steamed broccoli and "light" yogurt.
I have decided to look for at least one nice thing in everybody who bugs me and comment on it. I have decided to be more prudent in managing my study time. And I have decided to smile at my reflection first thing every morning--no matter how pasty white and puffy-eyed it is. And I believe that I as tackle three small goals, one day at a time, I might learn to take on more. If I do, I let you know. Heck, I might even blog regularly... :)
Happy New Year's everybody.
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