Travel Adventure Tips

I missed the posting deadline again for our SpinClass Writers Group this week 
(http://spinclass.wordpress.com) - so as I had this burning a hole in my brain, I had to put it here instead...(recovered and updated from my old Geo-cities website which now lives in the Geo-cities Archive project http://www.geocities.ws/sandidv/)

This post could also be titled "Ways to make or break a relationship."

While I am not a jet setting world traveler, I have taken two outstanding cross-country trips – one with my boyfriend, who later became my husband perhaps because of our trip, and one with a college girlfriend who I have “unintentionally” lost touch with.

If you'd like to test the strength of your relationship with your significant other, before you commit to something longer term, I suggest taking a cross-country trip – and by “take”  - I mean DRIVE. Our trip was round trip, New York City to Seattle Washington.  But if you attempt to do this with your love interest, in order to thoroughly test your relationship it’s worthwhile to note that the destination is not as important as how you get there...  (and please note much of this should be read with an undertone of sarcasm)

So here are a few tips to remember:

• Try to over pack - and then also cram all possible belongings you think you could possibly find yourself needing in an emergency into the back of a 90's Acura Integra hatchback. 
• And for extra safety, be sure to properly position the huge load you crammed into the back of the car so that you are unable to see out the rear window.
• If you don't own a tent, don’t buy one… borrow one.  But be sure it is no bigger than a two-man pup tent (this is especially important if your significant other is over 6 foot tall)
• Empty out your bank accounts but be sure the money you both bring only totals just enough to get you one way across the country.  
• As you drive cross country at night, make sure your significant other is so awed by the incredible starry Montana night sky that he has no choice but to stop his now invisible black car in the middle of the unlit highway and turn off his headlights to get a better view of the stars – this will help you to feel like you are about to pee your pants in fear of a speeding truck or other vehicle coming along and being unable to see you or stop…
• Feel flattered after your trip when your boyfriend tells you “if you can travel cross country with someone and not want to kill them along the way – maybe they are a keeper…”

But be assured that Cross country (driving) trips are also recommended for testing the strength of your friendships.

• And again, be sure to first empty out your bank accounts and to take only enough money to get you one way…
• Encourage your friend to bring her hundred pound dog, which you are probably allergic to.

• Be sure that the dog is having an allergic reaction to flea bites and is losing her hair in patches which gently float on the breeze in the car when you have the windows open
• Be sure to have no air conditioning in your early 80's Subaru wagon (so you almost always have the windows open… see previous item)
• Be sure to travel through New Mexico and Arizona during July when you can catch those record high temps (it really is a dry heat… and see the two prior items)
• Be sure to visit Chaco Canyon and don’t let your friend warn you ahead of time about the scorpions and rattlesnakes that may settle outside your tent at night.  (best to not pee before you go to bed to assure you will only see them with your flashlight just before you potentially step on them on your way to the bathroom…)
• be sure to also make a side trip to rescue an additional hundred pound dog from a white supremist-racist in Kentucky who lives on a former slave era tobacco plantation and who named the black furred dog “watermelon”
• be sure to enjoy peacefully sleeping over on the plantation once you realize its too late at night to drive on unlit and unpaved Kentucky back roads though the tobacco fields and then try to escape as quietly as possible the next morning without having to see "the man" again
• be sure when you put the second hundred pound dog  in the back of the car that it will fight constantly with the first one
• be sure that the second dog ,who has never traveled before, is also so traumatized by the trip that he constantly tries to climb into the front seats and sit in your lap while you are driving
• If your friend then takes you and the dogs to her cabin in the remote mountains of Idaho, check ahead of time to be sure that there is no running water - and especially that the outhouse is far enough away from the cabin that you are sure to get lost in the dark coming back from it.
• Also be sure that the outhouse seat is cracked and painfully pinches your butt no matter how you try to sit on it
• Additionally be sure that the particular breed of dogs that you are traveling with is a herding breed – so when you frolic ahead of them in an Idaho field, enjoying the sun and breeze – they feel the need to run behind you and nip your ass to keep you in line!

but most of all - bring an open mind and find the fun and humor in it all - on a road trip and in life - there's always an adventure to be found!

“Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive”
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Witness

I ask myself, “who am I to write about the horrific and historical events that happened 10 years ago on Sept 11, 2001?” I didn’t personally lose a family member or friend.  And although we have family living in New York City and some within a few blocks of the area where the twin towers once stood – they were all physically unharmed.

So I ask myself again, “who am I to write about Sept 11^th?”  What right do I have to write about a time, and an event that caused so much deep and personal pain to so many?  But didn’t affect me to that level?

Who am I to write about Sept 11^th? I wasn’t there - but we live a mere 50 miles away from where the World Trade Center once stood.   Why do I feel I can write about Sept 11^th? Because, not only was this a horrific historic event, it was for us in this part of commuterville CT, a local event.

So who am I to write about Sept 11^th? I am a witness.  I am a witness to a moment in time that will be remembered by all the witnesses for ages to come.

On my drive to work, I heard the breaking news report by our local/NYC radio station about a plane that had crashed into the North tower moments before.  Then just after 9am as my stunned coworkers and I gathered and watched the live local news report about the “accident” on TV, our coffee cups in hand, we witnessed both in amazement and horror as the second plane crashed into the South tower…  I am a witness to their shock and pain, many of them were reverse commuters who lived in NYC and rode the train daily to our office in Westport CT.

I was a tearful witness to stress of the wives and husbands and family members not being able to contact their loved ones in NYC to check if they were ok, as the cell phone towers were knocked out. 

I was a witness to our commuter train stations being eerily empty of returning riders during the usual evening rush, and to the horror on the faces of some of the ones who made it back. 

And I am a witness to the pain on the faces of the people who waited there at the stations for hours – hoping the next train that arrived would be carrying their heart back to them.  I am a witness to the many flyers posted there for days-weeks-months after that followed, “have you seen… missing… 9/11…”

And I am a volunteer mourner.  I don’t know the deceased other than when their thousands of names are read aloud every year for the last 10 years, but I mourn for them on behalf of their families.  And I mourn for the thousands of families who’s loved one was never even identified.

I pray for the victims and for God to lighten the burdens of those they left behind.  I will mourn for the loss every year when lists are read again.  And I will always try to stop what I’m doing, to listen and pray and probably choke back tears or cry for a bit as I admit that I cannot even imagine what this must be like for them.

And I am a mourner every time another local news story tells us how yet another “survivor” or Firefighter or NYPD officer or rescuer has died of health issues related to dust inhalation.   

I am a witness to terror – to humanities ability to hate on each other with such violence and disregard for life – if its culture is different than yours…

And I am a witness to heroism – to humanities ability to help, to throw themselves into danger – at the true risk of their own life – to save a fellow human…

And I am a witness to the NYC skyline landscape which we took for granted - being forever changed.  Driving into the city shortly after 9/11 to check on Ma, we were surprised at the skyline, the plumes of dust and smoke that lingered and hung over the city for days on end.  And then, once the air was cleared, seemingly a million years later, the gaping hole left in the skyline.

My 8 year old – and all the children born after 2001 may never really get it... This is “ancient” history to them, perhaps much in the same way as segregation, Dr King’s assassination, vinyl records and 8 track tapes are in the past to them. So I am an intentional witness to them – I tell them why we all should stand still and say a prayer or give thanks for our lives even for a moment on this day.  It happened in other places too – not just in NYC – and it could have happened anywhere to any of us.  So, even 10 years later, even if it happened before you were born, we should remember.   

I’m a witness and a mourner - and every year for the last 10 years I dig up and remember what I wish had never happened, what I wish I had never seen or heard or shared through the faces and hearts of the people around me – and every year I cry and choke up and then on Sept 12^th I hide my pain back down deep inside because ... who am I to feel like this? by what right do i have these feelings of pain? I was not a "victim"... I am only a witness.

“Fulfill a Wish Fund” for Shirley

Dear Family & Friends,

Many of you know I was looking forward to a big birthday party next year to celebrate my 50^th.  I have decided instead to start a “Fulfill a Wish Fund” to help my sister Shirley make a dream of hers a reality, to see the Grand Canyon.   Shirley has been battling Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma for many years and between bouts of chemo and antidepressants – she fantasizes about being well enough to see the Grand Canyon someday.  So if you were planning on helping me to celebrate my milestone birthday next year, I would ask you instead to consider helping me to take Shirley to the Grand Canyon. How we get her there and where and how long we stay and etc depends on how much I can put away in the “Fulfill a Wish Fund”  beyond the monies I had began to set aside for my party. 

You all know me, and hopefully you know me well enough to know I do not often ask for help with anything and I would never ask for money… but I think this is something that I can only do right with assistance. 

In the coming weeks I plan to research estimated costs for travel and ect and I will set an approximate target goal of how much I think we will need.  I then will be creating a fundraising site for information and submission of donations – please let me know if you would be willing to make a contribution either of resources or monetary donations when I am ready.  I thank each and every one of you so much in advance for your consideration of this request.  

Much Love,

Sandi

its all about location

The flames have to be shooting out of the top of my head by now, she thinks, and then she shivers with anticipation as she steps outside, barefoot and naked into the snowstorm. She plops down ass first into a small snowbank. A snowy pillow cradles her head as she lies back with a sigh and hears the hiss of the flames being squelched. “This is a great spot to make snow angels!” she murmurs dreamily as she starts to wave her arms and legs. She begins to feel the icy bite of the snow on her skin… but she cant stop the smile threatening to split her parched chapped lips. “This is bliss” she thinks…

She startles as she feels a hand on her shoulder, “wake up Missus you’re having a nightmare…” someone gently shakes her and she slowly begins to realize she is not really making snow angels … she tries to open her heavy eyelids and as she does she finds she is indoors, in a hospital bed. “Missus you’re having a fever dream” says the voice. “Let’s sit you up a bit and have a sip of icewater.” As gentle hands that seem to go with the voice help her sit up, she shivers again. The voice, whose face is still outside her fuzzy field of vision, says “awww look at you, your nightgown is soaked! You must be freezing.” She laughs thinking of her recent snow angels and how she had been frolicking in the snow just moments ago. “Lets help you into your slippers Dearie - then you can change your gown for a dry one in the bathroom, ok?” The hands help guide her colorfully knee socked feet to floor and into a pair of fuzzy Hello Kitty slippers. The bright faces of Kitty looking up at her are all she can focus on as she shuffles them and her feet one at a time in the direction the hand on her back gently guides her, towards the bathroom doorway. “You must have sweated through your gown during your fever. Dry off and change into this one, and let us know if you need help.” A towel and a soft purple night gown are given to her. She reaches up with her free hand to close the door behind her and she stops, stunned, looking at her hand. The skin on this hand seems almost papery dry, thin, freckled and translucent, the blue of viens showing. Was that really HER hand? She turns away from the door – still holding and turning her hand over in front of her face – flexing her bony fingers and staring at the pronounced outlines of her tendons moving over the back of her hand and knuckles in amazement – she realizes she is now directly in front of the mirror. The shock of two long white braids, as bright as the snowbank she had just imagined laying in make her pause again. She slowly lowers her offending hand and now sees her own dark eyes looking back at her from a familiar strangers wrinkled and lined face. She blinks several times and tries to focus on the face in the mirror. It smiles at her, eyes crinkling. And a laugh, bubbling up from somewhere inside her, comes out instead through the strangers mouth.

She starts shivering again and hears a voice from the other side of the door, “Babe? You ok?” Another jolt of surprise hits her when she hears the voice whispering right in her ear, “Sandi, wake up, you’re having a nightmare…” through a confused haze it slowly dawns on her that it’s her husband and that she's dreaming. She struggles to wake up in their cold bedroom, deep in the middle of a dark winter night, and even under the huge comforter and electric blanket they share, she feels cold and wet. She angrily realizes the hot flashes and accompanying night sweats have stuck yet again… She gets up to peel off her soaked clothing and blindly rummage through her dresser in the dark for a dry shirt and bottoms. She shivers and stumbles, still groggy, on her way to the bathroom.

Half awake, she turns on the bathroom light, and squints, both from the sudden brightness and from a fear of what she may still see in the mirror. But through her half closed eyes and fuzzy vision without her glasses, she is relieved to see her dark hair. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles and shakes her head at her reflection and thinks to herself, “and this is just the pre-phase of menopause… is it too much to ask that my next hot flash dreams have me swimming in Hawaii or Jamaica instead of frolicking in the snow?”

I used to be an anomaly...

In contemporary dictionaries the definitions for Geek and Nerd have changed significantly and are now very often synonymous or interchangeably used. The terms were often used to define or label a person who is preoccupied with - or very knowledgeable about computing, science or other technical disciplines to the point of being considered peculiar or odd by others. The “classification”, Geek or Nerd was often a negative one.

With the explosion of technology in the 21st century, and societies growing dependence on it, the Geek/Nerds have begun to use these titles as a self-reference and a badge of honor. It is often now a positive description denoting a technically competent person, with less implication on social awkwardness or peculiarity (but be advised, the terms can be still considered offensive or condescending when used by “outsiders”).

So with that said, I proudly then state, I am a Girl Geek. I can figure my way out of most computer or application/software troubleshooting scenarios. The time I spent as a helpdesk tech crawling under desks to resolve the very complicated tasks of plugging back in computer power cords or loosened network cables should prove that. And some people have told me recently, I must be a genius - since I am currently teaching former WindowsXP users how to navigate around their new Vista computers, or how to manage their Outlook email file size... so they don’t get blocked from sending those very important jpeg files. But truth be told, I’m far from having reached my true Geekess potential; I admit it to you here, I’m not all the Geek I can be.

I had the basics of the Geek media/entertainment thing going from a youngish age, I watched all the star trek series from the “Original Series” (had such a crush on Spock!) to “Next Generation”, some of “Deep Space Nine” and I even tried to watch Voyager for a while, as the combination of Star Trek and Scott Backula from Quantum leap intrigued me (ok I thought he was kinda cute too!). And I actually understand the comic book references on the Big Bang Theory Television show, and I could listen in and understand a debate of who would win in a DC vs Marvel universe hero show down.

But even as a Girl Geek I was intrigued by the stop in the action that would happen when I walked into a Nerd-haven, the comic book store. I was smugly amused by the awkward silence that followed me around as I hunted for my new Wonder Woman, Lady Death, Elektra, Kabuki, Spawn (the Angela issues), Cat Woman or Vampirella comic. I imagined them whispering to each other from the back of the store – pausing over their Dungeons and Dragons game, “Dude… is that a Girl? Looking for Comic?”

Why were women or girls so rare here in Geekdom? Why couldn’t we be interested in this realm as well? To that point I also collected female action figures (my Girl Geek/kick-ass versions of Barbie) – they now all live in my Mothers attic – but I would always buy one to open and display (ok “play with” or put out on my desk) and one to keep pristine (called MINT & NIB) – but my desire for hero/girl-power realism would be crushed as the scale of boob size to body made them disproportionate and yes cartoonish. Why?!?!, I ask – why? Why couldn’t my Lara Croft or Wonder Woman action figures – just have a normal bra size – seriously, could they really fight bad guys with triple Ds getting in the way? They were imagined, drawn and molded that way, because they weren’t made for me, or for the other Girl Geeks, they as so much here in Geekdom, were made for the boys.

And speaking of T&A, did Halle Berry’s character, Patience Phillips in the Catwoman movie, really have to rip up the costume we saw as iconic? The Selina Kyle/Catwoman costume was just as sexy or more so when worn whole by the likes of Eartha Kitt, Julie Newmar, Lee Meriwether, even Michelle Pfeiffer.

I feel that my quest and interest in comics and female actions figures is a spinoff of my love of Sci-Fi/fantasy, currently grouped together and now called “Speculative fiction.” I got hooked in middle school when I picked up a dog-eared copy of Ray Bradbury’s Martian chronicles, and then Isaac Asimov’s, I Robot. And even though my ventures into sci-fi started with those masters, I wasn’t drawn to the hard core stuff in general – once they start to discuss physics or quantum mechanics, my brain substituted space opera music while I’d skim over those parts... My favorites became the “fantasy” ones or the ones with tongue in cheek humor, Douglas Adams type stuff, Piers Anthony. And as a Girl Geek, I’ve began to seek out female authors to read, I discovered that Frankenstein by Mary Shelly is considered one of the first sci-fi novels. Contemporary female sci-fi writers I have sought out are Andre Norton, Ursula Le Guinn, Anne McCaffrey (named Grand Masters of science fiction by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America) also Tanith Lee, James Tiptree Jr (yes a woman), C.J. Cherryh, Nalo Hopkinson, and Octavia Butler (an anomaly herself being not just a female sci-fi writer but one of a small number of African American female sci-fi writers, who tragically died as she was at a high point in her career a few years ago at the age of 58).

But as with some other aspects of my life, I find I’m again a wannabe. This time I’m a wannabe Nerd. I’m already established as Girl Geek (seen by Nerds as a fanboy – but a girl) but I need to take it and my “cred” up a notch. I want to be in the grown-up Nerd know. I want to read Wired, Scientific America, Popular Science, Discover, Gizmag and Macworld and understand everything they are saying or at least be interested in it...

And to do this, to take my Geekdom to the next level, I may have to let my grip on the fun side out of my grasp and go the grown up route – to the “Dark Side” if you will… As a professional woman approaching 50 (gasp!) I feel I cannot proudly wear my Girl Geek colors out loud in my non-corporate time – to my amazement it seems to cause embarrassment to the conservatives who are my best friends and family.

So hopefully my younger Girl Geek sisters and future Nerdesses are growing in numbers to represent those of us who are oppressed or feel that for the sake of our non-geek friends and families, we need to sulk quietly, like me with my wonder Woman, or Catwoman t-shirts hidden away under my cardigan. My younger or bolder sisters – can live out loud, and represent in goth girl gear, or show up at a comic con in super heroine or villainess costume... and they hopefully know they don’t have to be all T&A about it.

But sadly they will whip out the T&A – because even here in Geekdom… where we used to be anomalies... we all know it’s still a man’s world.

Best 20 bucks I ever spent

I love the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when everyone decorates their homes for the holidays. There are people at both ends of the spectrum, you have the folks who are up on ladders stringing lights on the roof or out picking up a Christmas tree before the Thanksgiving turkey is even in the oven. And then you have the folks who are hanging the lights on their front porch on the down low in the dark on Christmas eve because they were the only house in the neighborhood without lights up (been there - done that).

During this period I especially I love the drive home with my son once I have scooped him up from the afterschool program. Since its dark earlier now we get to admire and comment on the lights in the neighborhoods between school and home. There’s even a 25 foot tall electric menorah outside the supermarket we pass, right next to their 50 foot Christmas tree. For eight days, we get to do a little math when I ask him how many candle holders there are in the menorah and how many of the candles are lit or are remaining to light.

I think the best part of this time has always been pulling up to our home and seeing our own twinkling lights greeting us. But this year we are playing it low key, there are no lights on the porch (Ok, “low key” really means, I haven’t poked my husband enough to get him out there to put the lights up - so we might just go without…). So my need to have twinkling lights on display must be met by the 3 foot fiber optic mini tree which blazes multicolored in our little bay window. The problem is, if no one has been home before dark – no one turns on the tree in the window. And once you are in the house, getting to the switch to turn on the tree is a struggle – you have to climb/lean over the big-ass sectional couch, hang there in a very unflattering position, and reach to the floor, while fending off the dust bunnies to hit the power strip.

Until a few weeks ago, (queue angelic singing here) I was in Bed Bath & Beyond and was actually looking for a light timer to plug the tree into – my quest to have twinkling lights greeting us when we got home would not be thwarted! And instead, I found a wireless remote system. What wonderful magic was this? You plug the tree into a receiver that is plugged into an outlet - and from anywhere in the room you hit a button on the remote and the tree is on! Happy-Happy Joy-Joy!

This was the best 20 bucks I ever spent on a gadget. Now it’s so easy, even my husband will turn on the tree if he gets home before me. And the system came with more than one receiver – so now I also don’t have to climb under the Christmas tree in the living room, and fend off needles in the face to turn it on too!! (oh!!... Now I just have to try using the remote from the car as I am pulling in the driveway!!)

email to my seetor

My first thought is always a selfish one, "Why does she do this to me?" My second thought is always along the lines of, "She has been through so much and has some how managed to not slit her wrists!" (Thats actually my version of a wierd compliment...)

These thoughts always happen when my sister sends her almost anniversarial annual link to a new blog or webpage that talks about events in her life starting with soft sweet memories and cute imagery that eventually turn into graphic descriptions of the separate but equally tragic deaths of her infant children... and then she moves onto talk about the ironic twist when she gets diagnosed with cancer... but she somehow mostly always manages to end these writings on a "happy" note... (if you want to share in this and see what I mean, here's the link (http://skwerally.livejournal.com/)

So this year when she sent me the link to her newest page - which I should not have read while at work at my new job, I called her (after I went and hid in the ladies room so I could have my good annual cry on her/my behalf... ) and we talked about her page and how she couldn't find other webpages with parents writings about the loss of children... and all of a sudden, a very unsubtle buzzer was being set off in my head. Since I was at work I told her I couldnt talk any more but had to send her an email in which I told her I had been getting "messages" to contact her ...

--------
Seestor,
so why would your sister know about a website called "hello from heaven"? I am convinced "someone" very recently (starting strongly last week) has been trying to tell me something... and its either Dad or cousin Mike or I am leaning towards thinking it might even be CJ or Dylan... because there has been alot of push to think about you too. I am convinced they got me to watch John Edwards show... and he mentioned the book his friend wrote "hello from heaven" about after death communications.

I think I can kinda hear someone trying to tell me something but I am blocking or something - and I HAVE been told previously by a psychic medium that I am Clairaudient (the ability to psychic hear clearly) but that I needed to develop the "skill." So, that all said... alot of these webpages/sites I have found while being "nudged" to do so have links to bereaved parent posted poems and writings... links below - and now that I have told you this, maybe the "nudging" will stop for a while but if not - I'll be sure to let you know... maybe I am getting the hints wrong... luv ya, S.

The website that I originally found many of these links from is really at this address http://www.after-death.com/

heres another good one http://www.bereavedparentsusa.org/ http://www.bereavedparentsusa.org/AP_Mothers.htm Bereaved "Parents of the USA (BP/USA) is a national non-profit self-help group that offers support, understanding, compassion and hope to bereaved parents, grandparents and siblings struggling to rebuild their lives after the death of their children, grandchildren or siblings."

another appears to be http://www.alivealone.org/ "Alive Alone is an organization for the education and charitable purposes to benefit bereaved parents, whose only child or all children are deceased, by providing a self-help network and publications to promote communication and healing, to assist in resolving their grief, and a means to reinvest their lives for a positive future."

-----------------
Second email to my Seestor:
big nudging? (either that, or my sinuses are acting up!) DOH! tell me what you thought about the pages and if they meant anything to you... smooches, S.
------------------

FYI after that last email was sent, I think the "nudging" had stopped. But once my sinus infection completely clears up I will know for sure. LOL

flip-flop *toe* pop-top

To my dog loving co-workers (and you other guys that I am just trying to gross out...), Here's your Monday morning laugh (or "ewww!")

Last night as I was pushing baby boy in his stroller through the park while also walking our dog, the dog and I were showing baby boy how to play "splash the puddle" - which she and I have been playing since she was a puppy. The objective is for the human to stomp in a puddle and for the dog to snap at and catch the splashing water... Well, it appears that as she is now an older puppy girl (she's 8yrs +), perhaps her aim is slightly off - and during one round of "splash" instead of snapping and catching the splashing water, she "accidentally" made contact with my flip-flop wearing foot... Needless to say (but I will, just for the shock value...) one of my toes is now completely minus a toe nail!!!

And as I hobbled home bleeding, pushing stroller and dragging dog (who knew something bad had happened but wasn't sure exactly what...), baby boy pointed down at the ground with a giggle and even through the throbbing haze of shock I was starting to feel, he made me proud when he demonstrated the newest combination of words in his growing vocabulary - "more puddle!" To which I had to painfully and apologetically reply, "Uh... sorry baby boy, mommy thinks that game is over!"

1962 - planning = 43

tick tick tick - well its here. my 43rd year... am i where i expected to be? honestly dont know if i ever thought to plan it out in advance. I guess my unspoken and even subconscious motto has always been - "let life take you where it will... "

what's that old saying, "its the journey - not the destination thats important..." or something like that. i try to feel proud/justified that i subscribe to that... BUT often i feel like i've been lazy and shouldnt have just let life "happen"... and that i should have been planning better.

related note: Probably one of the few things i have seriously thought long and hard about and "formally planned" was getting pregnant with Baby Boy... i am VERY happy with how that turned out... yes, a miscarriage first - and i often wonder was that because I was approaching 40 and that I HAD waited too long? AND THIS WAS THE RESULT OF BAD PLANNING? as there had been a plan involved - I had planned for many years NOT to be pregnant until I/we were "ready..." Or was it just not the right time for Baby Girl? makes me sad to think about that... BUT then I think of Baby Boy's smiling face and giggle/scream when he sees an airplane or red van... and tell myself, "it all worked out so far..."

and now - PLANS - what do i do when they dont need me here at MSHell anymore... they have all their new or thankfully rehired formerly laid-off TV elves over at the new NYC site. And I dont know if I could/would do the commute to NYC happily long term if they did have/make a spot for me... So my PLAN right now is to ride this out and take and try to enjoy some of my severance... my closets need cleaning, baby boy's clothes and toys need outgrown and unused weeding, my garage needs junk thrown out... So i hope i can take a month or two before i have to really think about where my next official paycheck will be coming from again - but when i stop and look at it - i guess i am planning - because I have been telling any and every user who listens that its time for a career change... and that, "my dignity and my behind are getting too large to allow me to continue to crawl around under desks..." So I am planning - at least to stop doing that - to stop fighting with the dustbunnies and cobwebs and start wearing skirts again and business attire - so theres at least a scrap of a plan - Human Resources or Technology Training - they sound like potential career paths i would enjoy.... so OK - I guess I do plan when I HAVE to...

And now I must plan to hit 44 (wow!) next year wearing a skirt to work that is not a size 14!

email from my seestor

My mother - much like me - (the nut doesn't fall far from the tree right?) is experiencing some slight hearing issues right now... And while I feel that I often "hear" something that was actually more interesting than what was really said and I then find it amusing when I realize that I have once again misheard and reinterpreted something - My mother, on the other hand, is experiencing some justifiable frustration with this "problem" especially when she talks to my sister over the phone... (see email below from sis)

"...Hola seestor!
I was reading your blog [ostameaners post] and it reminded me of a phone conversation I had with our mom a few days ago. She called me up to ask me what I was watching on TV.
I said "Wife swap".
She said "I slop?" and for some reason I got the giggles,
I said "no... wife swap".
She said "I sleep?" I was trying very hard not to laugh, but I couldn't help it.
I said "NO!...WIFE SWAP!"
She started to sound frustrated...and said "WHAT? I SLEEP?"
OK.. By now I can't stop laughing... (I was actually lying in bed and had to get up to catch my breath and do the dance of many pigs, because I thought I was going to pee on myself from laughing so hard.)
I could hear her mumbling on the phone "I don't know what your saying"...which was making me laugh even more.
Finally I was able to compose myself to spell it out to her and she finally said "OH...WIFE SWAP!".

MAN! Today she called me and asked me "what are you watching?" I said "Pimp my ride" She said "I'm not even going there..."

(Thought you could use a laugh.)
Shirl..."

i need to start wearing a helmet!

I banged my head AGAIN. this time it was as I was getting back into my jeep. i had parked next to a hardened snow drift. And I had to step on it as I was opening the car door - and the snow shifted under my feet and I whacked myself in the FOREHEAD with the edge of the door!!! OW!!!

When I got back to work I got a bag of ice from the commisary and put it to my forehead - and then of course, everyone who sees you as are trying to slink back to your office without anyone noticing says, "Whats wrong?" and "what happened" and "let me see it" and "oh - thats not so bad..."

I wanted to respond: "would you ...
1.) let me be a baby and whine (cus IT HURTS) and not tell me "oh - thats not so bad..."
2.) leave me alone...
3.) let me get back to my office and close the freakin door so I can hide!

so it usually takes a few days for my bruises to show up - I'm just hoping I dont wind up now with a big purple mark in the middle of my forehead. But at least I had let my bangs grow out so they will cover... sigh.

don't let the ostameaners get you!!!

my mom recently had a major surgery - and as my sister was trying to explain to me via long distance phone call about the health care people that were assisting with mom's recovery... she kept talking about "The Ostameaners" and how (in my interpretation of the conversation and related to the name she was calling them) they would barge into the hospital room and unfeelingly do stuff to my weakened and defenseless mom related to checking on her surgery... now, as an adult I was able to fight off the bad imagery of my poor mommy laying prone in a hospital bed being poked and prodded and verbally abused by some insensitive hospital staff evil-doers (...they must be evil if they are called "meaners" right?) but the child in me couldn't hold it in and after hearing her say "The Ostameaners did this..." or "The Ostameaners said that..." about ten times, I finally had to yell at my sister over the phone - "OK ... hold on, what the *F* is an Ostameaner?!?!" to which she replied (after she laughed her ass off at me), "oh... Colostomy Nurse."

I'm workin' on it! (but not while I'm @work - I swear!)

new posts coming - I swear!!!! I am trying to update my blog templates throughout the day today and add links that reflect my varied interests as a mom/geekess and Martha "watcher" (that last bit is not because I want to, but because I have to... ya know, employment stability and all...)

Code Talkers

"Code Talkers"... don't know why I was thinking about this topic so much lately... But as I was walking the dog one day and pondering what gentle wording to use during a "reestablishing baby care guidelines..." talk with my Mother-in-Law (more on that topic another time) - I actually used the words "my MIL" in my head when thinking of her (not to be confused with her name, that coincidentally starts with the same 3 letters...).

anywayz - being a tech geekess I thought my work world in general was filled with enough codes or acronyms: WYSIWYG, GUI, TCP/IP, lan, ram, rom, smtp... and LOL, IMHO in the chat rooms... and so on. Then one day we "decided" to have a baby and as I always enjoy doing web research my current topics of interest, I started to explore conception and baby related chat rooms and bulletin boards. I was overwhelmed by the "code talkers" I found there... And of course as a "newbie" you want to play along properly but also don't want to get flamed by the regulars for asking simple or stupid "uh, what's that?" questions. So I had to jump in and learn the lingo by the seat of my pants or on the fly (which was also much like my experiences as a Jr geek wanna-bee learning about computers and technology).

here's a rough example of the baby related code talking:
so when DH and I were TTC I started charting my BBT and using OPKs. Sometimes if the combination of methods showed I was near OV, I would go home on lunch hour so we could BD. Eventually I got the timing right (or we got lucky) and I was PG with DS... but now since DH and I both need to WOTH, and I want to BF for as long as possible, I have to EBM during the day and then DS RC BFs. And since I can't be a SAHM like I wanted, thankfully my MIL is my daycare person!

the ants go marching one by one...

so when you have a baby - do you let the ants that are invading your bathroom live - or do you spray the heck out of them? And then deal with the deadly bug spray fumes? or do you just keep crushing them one by one...? and I think I say "sorry" almost every time...

I often wondered before baby - whenever I would see a parent either casually blow the dust off a dropped toy or paci (experienced parent) - or run to thoroughly wash it off (new or first time parent) - what kind of parent would i be when it came to cleaning baby items.
So as the new parent i am, i second and third guess everything like that these days. is there residue on my baby's plates and spoons from the dishwasher? do the baby bottles have too much dishwashing detergent smell? did the dog lick her butt and then his foot/face/hand...? what is he touching now? is it "clean" and what are my acceptable levels of clean these days? If he drops something how extensively do i clean it... I've never been a "clean freak" but now that he has already had thrush... I wonder could I/we have prevented it by making sure every single thing he touches all day long was sanitized. and what about doorknobs in public or at work...? or the keyboards of other peeps I have to handle all day long at work... oh! If we get sick ONE MORE time anytime soon... it's enough to make your head spin... (or stuffy)

what's a blog?

afraid and leary about this new adventure... what am i getting myself into now? will i regret this later? a medium for practicing my creative writing and perhaps a substitute for my dusty journal (and when did i last make an entry in my journal? years years years).

ok here we go... slowly stepping up to the edge of the brink... dont lean over too far... dont look down... deep breath... bend your legs at the knee... open your arms wide... spring up into the air... FLY!