Such a week.
Monday night I was in full cramp mood and I sighed one too many times and Nelson flew into a verbal tirade (which he continues to feel justified in doing since he has not apologized). He then didn’t talk to me for three days. He finally started speaking on Friday night. And now life continues.
This week in addition to being a verbal recluse (really only speaking to Beth and Penelope when they were visiting this week) he also appeared to be on self-destruct mode. I ended up feeling like a stranger in my own home. His back still hurts terribly. He's asked me to get the name of the on the upswing--it takes a lot for him to take care of himself. There has been an on-going battle with Worker's Comp as well--that turmoil isn't doing his depression any good at all!
Work wasn’t much better. Growing up in an alcoholic home I learned well the art of hyper vigilance. I could just sense that something was going on. And while I’m not at liberty to say (since I’m still not sure who’s reading my blog/diary at work), suffice it to say: I was right. On top of that, and trying to deal with home stuff, and cramps, I just struggled spiritually with being content.
Through it all I’m sticking to the NutriSystem plan. Faithfully and completely. And to my absolute delight, I’ve lost 6.5lbs since the 16th. I like the food. I’m drinking the water. And today I will start walking again. Here’s an example of my faithfulness: Last night our Sunday School class had an event. We met at Pizza Hut for dinner. There were about 35 of us. I made my NS pizza ahead of time, doctored it with mushrooms and crushed red peppers and took it with me. When it came time to order our meal, I ordered a one trip to the salad bar, which I ate the good stuff and left the heavy laden and fat filled food for someone else! Then we met at the nearby seminary and watched a movie (The Notebook—loved it!). While everyone else munched on popcorn (which wouldn’t have been all that horrible for me) I ate my NS mustard pretzels—which I love!!!!
Did you catch that a part of this week (Tuesday through Thursday) Ann was also here with the grandsweeties. That truly was balm for my heart. Penelope came running up to me and smothered me with hugs and sloppy kisses. We immediately hit the floor for play. At Memaw’s house, I believe Penelope thinks the best toy is Memaw!
And now I’m going to go walk. The sun has been out all morning and it’s trying to reach 40. It’ll be chilly, but I think it will do me good. More later!
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Curiosity
So would you take a moment and add to my reality check by filling this out: http://kevan.org/johari?name=daisymarie
Thanks!
Thanks!
Kisses
Boy, did I have a reality check this morning.
I am on my third day with Nutrisystem. I have really been enjoying the food. I don’t feel hungry or deprived.
So this morning for breakfast I decide to have the NS coconut O’s cereal with my egg and cheese. I go to the cupboard and pause for a moment contemplating what bowl to put my meager portion of cereal in. I pull out a very tiny bowl. I think to myself that I’ll have to go larger when I add the 4oz of milk. Nope. Milk and cereal fit more than comfortably in the teeny tiny bowl.
I reach back into the cupboard and pull out the bowl I usually ate my cereal in. Can you say gargantuan? First, I was dumbfounded, then I began to laugh hysterically. No wonder I could play one of the dancing hippos from Fantasia.
I shared my revelation with Nelson, when he finally woke up. We talked for quite some time on how we are part of the super-size generation. For me it started way back in high school. Remember how big the Whopper used to be? How about the Whaler? I ate them daily. When it was time to buy dishes, the size of the dinner plate was a key factor in being considered for the purchase. How insane is that?
Yesterday was our 27th anniversary. Nelson was awake when I came down for my breakfast. He quickly shouted (scaring the pee right out of me!) “Happy Anniversary!” and then told me my gift was on the stand by his bed. I opened the envelope to find a little red velvet bag. In the red velvet bag was the sweetest white gold wedding band. And it fit! I’ve been transitioning over to all white gold and my wedding was the last hold out. This gift was so sweet. It was like he was saying he’d marry me all over again. That felt really good!
When I came home from work yesterday, I expected that Nelson would be ready to walk right out the door to head for therapy. I was wrong. He wasn’t ready for that at all. He had just gotten a call from the director of the Rehab Dept who had been talking to the Doctor’s office.
Bottom line: Nelson is done with therapy. Both the doctor and the therapist agree that Nelson won’t do construction work again. He has a second opinion visit scheduled for a couple weeks from now. But neither anticipate much of a differing opinion. This is as good as it gets.
One of the things the doctor’s assistant told the therapist is that they recommended fusing Nelson’s ankle. Neither of us remember this and aren’t sure that this sounds like a good idea, but we’ll have to see about that.
So now we begin to consider what life is going to be like now for Nelson. He can’t imagine what he will do. His skills and training are to work with his hands. On top of this frustrating news, he turned wrong or something in bed and has reactivated his back pain. Needless to say, he’s feeling pretty miserable.
And now for the irony…A couple weeks ago Nelson and I were watching TV and there was an add for some fancy candy company for Valentines Day. Off the cuff, and without giving much thought to what I was saying (or that I was saying it to Nelson) I said that I would rather have a bag of Hershey Kisses instead of that fancy candy. Well, on one of Nelson’s many Ebay explorations he found a box of Hershey Kisses for sale so he bid and bought. Now when I say box, I mean the size box that a store gets to display and sell. It’s full of little individual bags of 4 kisses each. It was supposed to be here for Valentines Day—before I started my new eating commitment. Well, thanks to lousy timing, it arrived today! So now there’s going to be a box of kisses sitting on my shelf in the pantry waiting until I feel like a smidgen of chocolate won’t destroy my resolve.
Now I really can wish you all a Hershey Kiss!
I am on my third day with Nutrisystem. I have really been enjoying the food. I don’t feel hungry or deprived.
So this morning for breakfast I decide to have the NS coconut O’s cereal with my egg and cheese. I go to the cupboard and pause for a moment contemplating what bowl to put my meager portion of cereal in. I pull out a very tiny bowl. I think to myself that I’ll have to go larger when I add the 4oz of milk. Nope. Milk and cereal fit more than comfortably in the teeny tiny bowl.
I reach back into the cupboard and pull out the bowl I usually ate my cereal in. Can you say gargantuan? First, I was dumbfounded, then I began to laugh hysterically. No wonder I could play one of the dancing hippos from Fantasia.
I shared my revelation with Nelson, when he finally woke up. We talked for quite some time on how we are part of the super-size generation. For me it started way back in high school. Remember how big the Whopper used to be? How about the Whaler? I ate them daily. When it was time to buy dishes, the size of the dinner plate was a key factor in being considered for the purchase. How insane is that?
Yesterday was our 27th anniversary. Nelson was awake when I came down for my breakfast. He quickly shouted (scaring the pee right out of me!) “Happy Anniversary!” and then told me my gift was on the stand by his bed. I opened the envelope to find a little red velvet bag. In the red velvet bag was the sweetest white gold wedding band. And it fit! I’ve been transitioning over to all white gold and my wedding was the last hold out. This gift was so sweet. It was like he was saying he’d marry me all over again. That felt really good!
When I came home from work yesterday, I expected that Nelson would be ready to walk right out the door to head for therapy. I was wrong. He wasn’t ready for that at all. He had just gotten a call from the director of the Rehab Dept who had been talking to the Doctor’s office.
Bottom line: Nelson is done with therapy. Both the doctor and the therapist agree that Nelson won’t do construction work again. He has a second opinion visit scheduled for a couple weeks from now. But neither anticipate much of a differing opinion. This is as good as it gets.
One of the things the doctor’s assistant told the therapist is that they recommended fusing Nelson’s ankle. Neither of us remember this and aren’t sure that this sounds like a good idea, but we’ll have to see about that.
So now we begin to consider what life is going to be like now for Nelson. He can’t imagine what he will do. His skills and training are to work with his hands. On top of this frustrating news, he turned wrong or something in bed and has reactivated his back pain. Needless to say, he’s feeling pretty miserable.
And now for the irony…A couple weeks ago Nelson and I were watching TV and there was an add for some fancy candy company for Valentines Day. Off the cuff, and without giving much thought to what I was saying (or that I was saying it to Nelson) I said that I would rather have a bag of Hershey Kisses instead of that fancy candy. Well, on one of Nelson’s many Ebay explorations he found a box of Hershey Kisses for sale so he bid and bought. Now when I say box, I mean the size box that a store gets to display and sell. It’s full of little individual bags of 4 kisses each. It was supposed to be here for Valentines Day—before I started my new eating commitment. Well, thanks to lousy timing, it arrived today! So now there’s going to be a box of kisses sitting on my shelf in the pantry waiting until I feel like a smidgen of chocolate won’t destroy my resolve.
Now I really can wish you all a Hershey Kiss!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
All About Love
What a Valentines Day I had.
D came to work on Monday and she was wheezing quite badly. By Tuesday it was much, much worse. Last week it sounded like she had bronchitis, but this week it sounded more like emphysema. I assumed my “mommy” role and couched it in psuedo-supervisor and insisted she go to the free clinic in town. Now I know I’m not her supervisor but I used my influence to get her there.
Our town has this really cool clinic. It’s part of one of the ministries here. Doctors and nurses volunteer to provide medical services to folks in our community who don’t have insurance coverage. I was so impressed.
We got to the building that hosts the clinic 40 minutes before they started seeing people so that we could get D’s name on the list. So we arrived at 5:50 and didn’t get seen by the doctor until almost 8:30. It was horribly hot in the waiting room and some of the less patient patients were starting to complain—even though they had gone out at least a couple times to get a smoke.
Complainers just baffle me. While I was busy marveling that there were medical professionals giving their time off and doing my best to calm D’s nerves others were starting to snap at the volunteers and medical folks. Sure I was warm. I had been waiting too. D was feeling worse than awful but she never complained. It wasn’t going to help anything—that was the difference between us and them—but not the only difference.
I began to watch and listen. There was such an incredible sense of entitlement. Where did that come from? There was no sense of appreciation. There was no wonder that people were giving of themselves, their knowledge, their time. I just didn’t get it. I still don’t.
The doctor wanted D to go to the ER and get a breathing treatment, but D was afraid to go so we talked about options with the Dr. She prescribed prednizone, an antibiotic, and an inhaler. And when we were done, she asked to pray with us. It absolutely touched my heart.
When we were done we made a dash to the only pharmacy still open in town. We’re too small for a Walgreens. Over and over D kept saying that no one had ever done anything like this for her. The culmination of that came when I helped pay for the prescriptions. She fought me on it. I assured her she could pay me back and she finally let me pay. Silly girl. And today…she was much better.
Sitting there with D, I missed Worship Team practice, I didn’t get to spend time with my hub on Valentines Day, and I didn’t get to hold Asher before he went to bed---but there’s no where else I needed to be.
And when it was over, I came home, kissed my Valentine (who bought me a pack of three Turtles—mmmmmmmmm!) and went to bed. And that’s what I’m going to do now.
Tomorrow I start Nutrisystem. I guess bed will have to wait until I make a grocery list.
Sweet dreams.
D came to work on Monday and she was wheezing quite badly. By Tuesday it was much, much worse. Last week it sounded like she had bronchitis, but this week it sounded more like emphysema. I assumed my “mommy” role and couched it in psuedo-supervisor and insisted she go to the free clinic in town. Now I know I’m not her supervisor but I used my influence to get her there.
Our town has this really cool clinic. It’s part of one of the ministries here. Doctors and nurses volunteer to provide medical services to folks in our community who don’t have insurance coverage. I was so impressed.
We got to the building that hosts the clinic 40 minutes before they started seeing people so that we could get D’s name on the list. So we arrived at 5:50 and didn’t get seen by the doctor until almost 8:30. It was horribly hot in the waiting room and some of the less patient patients were starting to complain—even though they had gone out at least a couple times to get a smoke.
Complainers just baffle me. While I was busy marveling that there were medical professionals giving their time off and doing my best to calm D’s nerves others were starting to snap at the volunteers and medical folks. Sure I was warm. I had been waiting too. D was feeling worse than awful but she never complained. It wasn’t going to help anything—that was the difference between us and them—but not the only difference.
I began to watch and listen. There was such an incredible sense of entitlement. Where did that come from? There was no sense of appreciation. There was no wonder that people were giving of themselves, their knowledge, their time. I just didn’t get it. I still don’t.
The doctor wanted D to go to the ER and get a breathing treatment, but D was afraid to go so we talked about options with the Dr. She prescribed prednizone, an antibiotic, and an inhaler. And when we were done, she asked to pray with us. It absolutely touched my heart.
When we were done we made a dash to the only pharmacy still open in town. We’re too small for a Walgreens. Over and over D kept saying that no one had ever done anything like this for her. The culmination of that came when I helped pay for the prescriptions. She fought me on it. I assured her she could pay me back and she finally let me pay. Silly girl. And today…she was much better.
Sitting there with D, I missed Worship Team practice, I didn’t get to spend time with my hub on Valentines Day, and I didn’t get to hold Asher before he went to bed---but there’s no where else I needed to be.
And when it was over, I came home, kissed my Valentine (who bought me a pack of three Turtles—mmmmmmmmm!) and went to bed. And that’s what I’m going to do now.
Tomorrow I start Nutrisystem. I guess bed will have to wait until I make a grocery list.
Sweet dreams.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
It's a Miracle...
He’s healed!
But nothing’s changed.
The doctor said that Nelson is to start wearing a work boot and loose the crutch. He prescribed work conditioning therapy and told him to come back in two months. He never asked to see Nelson walk. He didn’t really listen to what Nelson was trying to tell him.
Nelson went for his therapy session. His regular therapist couldn’t believe the new orders. He had the head of the rehab program evaluate Nelson. He asked Nelson to walk. He asked Nelson what Nelson would be doing when he went back to work. Nelson told him: lots of walking, climbing stairs and ladders, lifting many heavy objects. The director was beside himself and told Nelson there was no way. He’s going to call the Doc on Monday and let him know his findings.
Nelson got his new glasses yesterday. When he fell, back in June, he crushed his and has been using cheapo reading glasses since then. He was quite happy to have glasses scripted to his eyes!
There were both good and extraordinarily frustrating days for me at work this week. I got some orders out and that felt good. Yesterday a tool I was working with came apart and I mashed a steal pipe (about an inch in diameter—not real big) into my forehead. It still hurts and I have a bruise and bump right over my right eye. Owie.
Nelson has offered to let me give Nutrisystem a try. So I’m going to start that as soon as the food arrives.
I guess that’s all for now. I’m reading an article in my Prevention magazine about sneaking food: how it’s related to sense of worth and stress. Given what I just wrote here I think I’ll go reread the article and let you know what I’m thinking about it later.
Until then.
But nothing’s changed.
The doctor said that Nelson is to start wearing a work boot and loose the crutch. He prescribed work conditioning therapy and told him to come back in two months. He never asked to see Nelson walk. He didn’t really listen to what Nelson was trying to tell him.
Nelson went for his therapy session. His regular therapist couldn’t believe the new orders. He had the head of the rehab program evaluate Nelson. He asked Nelson to walk. He asked Nelson what Nelson would be doing when he went back to work. Nelson told him: lots of walking, climbing stairs and ladders, lifting many heavy objects. The director was beside himself and told Nelson there was no way. He’s going to call the Doc on Monday and let him know his findings.
Nelson got his new glasses yesterday. When he fell, back in June, he crushed his and has been using cheapo reading glasses since then. He was quite happy to have glasses scripted to his eyes!
There were both good and extraordinarily frustrating days for me at work this week. I got some orders out and that felt good. Yesterday a tool I was working with came apart and I mashed a steal pipe (about an inch in diameter—not real big) into my forehead. It still hurts and I have a bruise and bump right over my right eye. Owie.
Nelson has offered to let me give Nutrisystem a try. So I’m going to start that as soon as the food arrives.
I guess that’s all for now. I’m reading an article in my Prevention magazine about sneaking food: how it’s related to sense of worth and stress. Given what I just wrote here I think I’ll go reread the article and let you know what I’m thinking about it later.
Until then.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Snippets
The last time that Ann was here with the kids, Penelope did something that just cracked us all up. But after about the third time that she did it Beth looked at me and said there’s probably a sermon there. I guess she knows how I think.
Beth has one of those picture phones and the picture that’s always on it is a picture of Penelope. Beth asked her who that was a picture of and Penelope said, “You.” For the longest time when you asked who was in picture Penelope would identify everyone and when the person pointed to Penelope in the photo she would say that it was “baby.” And we would always respond, “No, that’s you.” So now she identifies herself as “you.”
Isn’t that interesting? Some people can’t look in the mirror without seeing someone else. It’s always someone else’s voice speaking in their head. They have no sense of self whatsoever. Others, clear on who they are, can look in the mirrors and while seeing themselves think only of others. They aren’t lost, but they know that their completeness is build by their connections to others.
Who do you see when you look in the mirror?
***********************************************************************************
It’s been quiet here this week. Beth went to visit at Ann’s—so my grandsweeties are together there and I’m here (insert big sigh). I guess if I get really honest it’s been a nice little break and I’m sure it will make me all that much more happy to be with them when they get home tomorrow. And then it’s my night. I take care of the baby on Friday nights so Beth can sleep.
**********************************************************************************
Tomorrow Nelson has an appointment with the doctor. We’re a bit anxious about what the outcome will be. We imagine one of three things will happen. For two weeks his physical therapist has basically told him that therapy isn’t helping. So we’re imagining that the doc will say one of a couple things: first, he could say that Nelson needs more surgery or he could say that this is as good as it gets. The latter is concerning because Nelson still can’t put weight on the ankle and needs either the crutch or walker to get around. The implications that this holds regarding his inability to work are mind boggling to us. What will life look like? The former doesn’t appeal to Nelson either. Sure, having surgery might (heavy on possibility) make things better, but he’s just so tired of hurting—and I’m tired of watching him hurt.
Work is going. I’m getting it better and getting along better. I’m able to step back a little and D handle more of the packaging responsibilities. That’s good because the work load is increasing in my new area. Sometimes my head feels like it’s going to pop trying to keep things straight in both areas. I’ve made several mistakes, but caught them all before they left the area. I just have to cut them down and then out all together. There’s still just so very much to learn.
And now I’m going to watch Dr. Phil and then make supper. Until later.
Beth has one of those picture phones and the picture that’s always on it is a picture of Penelope. Beth asked her who that was a picture of and Penelope said, “You.” For the longest time when you asked who was in picture Penelope would identify everyone and when the person pointed to Penelope in the photo she would say that it was “baby.” And we would always respond, “No, that’s you.” So now she identifies herself as “you.”
Isn’t that interesting? Some people can’t look in the mirror without seeing someone else. It’s always someone else’s voice speaking in their head. They have no sense of self whatsoever. Others, clear on who they are, can look in the mirrors and while seeing themselves think only of others. They aren’t lost, but they know that their completeness is build by their connections to others.
Who do you see when you look in the mirror?
***********************************************************************************
It’s been quiet here this week. Beth went to visit at Ann’s—so my grandsweeties are together there and I’m here (insert big sigh). I guess if I get really honest it’s been a nice little break and I’m sure it will make me all that much more happy to be with them when they get home tomorrow. And then it’s my night. I take care of the baby on Friday nights so Beth can sleep.
**********************************************************************************
Tomorrow Nelson has an appointment with the doctor. We’re a bit anxious about what the outcome will be. We imagine one of three things will happen. For two weeks his physical therapist has basically told him that therapy isn’t helping. So we’re imagining that the doc will say one of a couple things: first, he could say that Nelson needs more surgery or he could say that this is as good as it gets. The latter is concerning because Nelson still can’t put weight on the ankle and needs either the crutch or walker to get around. The implications that this holds regarding his inability to work are mind boggling to us. What will life look like? The former doesn’t appeal to Nelson either. Sure, having surgery might (heavy on possibility) make things better, but he’s just so tired of hurting—and I’m tired of watching him hurt.
Work is going. I’m getting it better and getting along better. I’m able to step back a little and D handle more of the packaging responsibilities. That’s good because the work load is increasing in my new area. Sometimes my head feels like it’s going to pop trying to keep things straight in both areas. I’ve made several mistakes, but caught them all before they left the area. I just have to cut them down and then out all together. There’s still just so very much to learn.
And now I’m going to watch Dr. Phil and then make supper. Until later.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Hand Full of Poop
It’s just me and Asher hanging out. Nelson and Beth are at the grocery and as far as I’m concerned they can take their good sweet time…because I’m savoring these moments—big time!
This morning Beth and Asher came to church. We then offered to keep him during Sunday School so that she could go home and get a nap. It was too easy! She jumped on that like…well, fill in the quickest analogy you can think of.
It was fun showing him off in Sunday School. Nelson kept identifying Asher as his new toy. Pepa! He was such a good baby. Everyone marveled at his sweet nature and his red hair.
Last night the funniest thing happened. I’ve been on poopy diaper patrol lately. Typically, I don’t mind, but this one was one for the books. I lade Asher on the floor on top of a receiving blanket and had successfully cleaned his little bottom. As I was getting ready to put on the new diaper he passed some gas. I sped up, but before I could get the new one completely under and my hand out of the way he pooped on me, on the banket and even into the new diaper. Beth was cracking up. Then as I turned him to the side to wipe up the mess a little he proceeded to pee the straightest little stream all over the floor. This just about put Beth into spasms she was laughing so hard. Nelson was sitting on his bed asking for a camera. Asher was doing the gassy grin and I still had a hand full of baby poopy. It was comical. No sooner had we cleaned up the mess but Beth was on the phone sharing the story and the laughter with her sister.
I prefer today’s peaceful cuddle time, but will confess last night’s laughter was pretty special too.
I was reading someone’s entry earlier and it caused quite a time of reflection for me. She was describing a trip to the ER with her 17yr old son, and how though in the process of life of letting go he grabbed her arm and asked her not to leave. I related so well to that this week.
Beth came into my room at 3:15 Monday morning. I awoke before she walked in when I heard her make her way to the bathroom. As she entered my room I was quick to ask, “Contractions?” She thought so. We called the hospital and was put through to her doctor. He instructed us to come in.
It was hard to watch my baby in so much pain. Her labor was very intense and in her back. Thank God for the epidural. That only left 2 hours of pushing. My job was to count and help her with that pushing. There were times when she snapped, but in her eyes I knew she wanted me there. I don’t know what words to use to describe the emotion as I witnessed Asher emerging. Then I got to cut the cord. He was so perfect. I treasure the entire experience.
Later, after moving to a quieter room, Beth was holding Asher and looking at him with such love. I smiled and said, “You’re a mom.” She was still trying to wrap her brain around it. It was just too amazing. “He’s yours forever.” That’s some pretty powerful stuff.
It reminded me of when she was in eighth grade. I think it was in January, maybe February. She had gone sledding with a friend. I was called at work that she had fallen off the sled and broken her arm—come home quick! That wasn’t hard since the hill was out front of our agency and we lived just at the bottom of the hill.
As I dashed home, I remember praying, “Please God let it be her right arm.” Strange prayer. Like God was going to say, “Oops, I broke the wrong arm…better fix that.” Reflecting on that moment, I’m glad hears our intent, especially when our words make no sense. I just desperately wanted God to be taking care of my baby.
Well, it was her right arm, and though that left her able to write, there were still things she couldn’t do: like wash her hair. Now, perhaps you can remember being 13 or 14, or you remember when your kids were. It’s the beginning of independence and the last thing you want to do is admit to your mom you can’t do something, or worse that you need her (gasp and horror).
I tried really hard not to let on how much I really treasured being needed again. I knew that days were coming when little Miss Independent was going to spread her wings and fly. I wanted it and dreaded it both at the same time. The time on Monday reminded me of hair washing. She may never need me in the same way again, but she will always need me. And that’s worth a hand full of poop any day!
Asher is asleep on my shoulder right now, making cooing little dream sounds while he sleeps. I just have to let you know—I feel so blessed.
This morning Beth and Asher came to church. We then offered to keep him during Sunday School so that she could go home and get a nap. It was too easy! She jumped on that like…well, fill in the quickest analogy you can think of.
It was fun showing him off in Sunday School. Nelson kept identifying Asher as his new toy. Pepa! He was such a good baby. Everyone marveled at his sweet nature and his red hair.
Last night the funniest thing happened. I’ve been on poopy diaper patrol lately. Typically, I don’t mind, but this one was one for the books. I lade Asher on the floor on top of a receiving blanket and had successfully cleaned his little bottom. As I was getting ready to put on the new diaper he passed some gas. I sped up, but before I could get the new one completely under and my hand out of the way he pooped on me, on the banket and even into the new diaper. Beth was cracking up. Then as I turned him to the side to wipe up the mess a little he proceeded to pee the straightest little stream all over the floor. This just about put Beth into spasms she was laughing so hard. Nelson was sitting on his bed asking for a camera. Asher was doing the gassy grin and I still had a hand full of baby poopy. It was comical. No sooner had we cleaned up the mess but Beth was on the phone sharing the story and the laughter with her sister.
I prefer today’s peaceful cuddle time, but will confess last night’s laughter was pretty special too.
I was reading someone’s entry earlier and it caused quite a time of reflection for me. She was describing a trip to the ER with her 17yr old son, and how though in the process of life of letting go he grabbed her arm and asked her not to leave. I related so well to that this week.
Beth came into my room at 3:15 Monday morning. I awoke before she walked in when I heard her make her way to the bathroom. As she entered my room I was quick to ask, “Contractions?” She thought so. We called the hospital and was put through to her doctor. He instructed us to come in.
It was hard to watch my baby in so much pain. Her labor was very intense and in her back. Thank God for the epidural. That only left 2 hours of pushing. My job was to count and help her with that pushing. There were times when she snapped, but in her eyes I knew she wanted me there. I don’t know what words to use to describe the emotion as I witnessed Asher emerging. Then I got to cut the cord. He was so perfect. I treasure the entire experience.
Later, after moving to a quieter room, Beth was holding Asher and looking at him with such love. I smiled and said, “You’re a mom.” She was still trying to wrap her brain around it. It was just too amazing. “He’s yours forever.” That’s some pretty powerful stuff.
It reminded me of when she was in eighth grade. I think it was in January, maybe February. She had gone sledding with a friend. I was called at work that she had fallen off the sled and broken her arm—come home quick! That wasn’t hard since the hill was out front of our agency and we lived just at the bottom of the hill.
As I dashed home, I remember praying, “Please God let it be her right arm.” Strange prayer. Like God was going to say, “Oops, I broke the wrong arm…better fix that.” Reflecting on that moment, I’m glad hears our intent, especially when our words make no sense. I just desperately wanted God to be taking care of my baby.
Well, it was her right arm, and though that left her able to write, there were still things she couldn’t do: like wash her hair. Now, perhaps you can remember being 13 or 14, or you remember when your kids were. It’s the beginning of independence and the last thing you want to do is admit to your mom you can’t do something, or worse that you need her (gasp and horror).
I tried really hard not to let on how much I really treasured being needed again. I knew that days were coming when little Miss Independent was going to spread her wings and fly. I wanted it and dreaded it both at the same time. The time on Monday reminded me of hair washing. She may never need me in the same way again, but she will always need me. And that’s worth a hand full of poop any day!
Asher is asleep on my shoulder right now, making cooing little dream sounds while he sleeps. I just have to let you know—I feel so blessed.
Friday, January 27, 2006
The Week In Review
Wow. This has been one crazy kind of week. I will confess openly that I am abundantly thankful that it is Friday.
Baby first. Asher continues to be amazingly beautiful. Beth would like for him to get his days and nights straightened around. We’ve told her that will come. Ann came over on Tuesday with Penelope and Caden. I have a wonderful picture of all three grandsweeties but I don’t know how to post it. (Any and all coaching will be accepted.) Nelson has decided that Asher is Pepa’s boy.
Nelson. (insert deep sigh) The therapist told him at his session on Wednesday that he didn’t believe that therapy would increase the functioning of his ankle. This may be as good as it gets. That was really hard to hear. His next doctor’s apt isn’t until the 10th. So now we wait and see. Edit: Friday’s session held no better news.
Work. (insert head shake) I’m exhausted. A big part of that is mental (but you knew that all along). I start my day by getting everything going in packaging. I’ve been training D to take my job—I’ve been doing that from the beginning really, but it’s for real now. She’s feeling totally overwhelmed and inadequate for the job so I’ve been doing heavy duty encouraging there. Once things are situated there I’ve been moving to the new department to learn how to do that job. The new position is very hands on. I’m working with all kinds of power tools. I actually have a key to the toolbox—now that’s a hoot! Talk about feeling inadequate!
Now, I think I’ve mentioned, at least once or twice that I am a huge control freak. I am now in a situation where finding even threads of control are extremely limited at best. Too many people are telling me what to do. The guy who used to run the floor portion still works at the plant and has all kinds of knowledge, but doesn’t disseminate it well and doesn’t like the paper man of the department who doesn’t really know how to build everything who would rather I go to the engineer who is extremely soft spoken and who would rather defer to the guy who used to run the department who I’ve been told I’m not supposed to go to. Did I succeed in making that sound horribly confusing and conflictual? I hope so, because it is!
Edit: I talked to Ed about things this morning and he was wonderful. I was open about my frustration and my desire to be able to do my job well—and to the company’s satisfaction. He was able to assure. I left his office feeling excited and empowered.
And that’s just the mental exhaustion. Last summer they moved the packaging department to the back corner of the plant and then moved my office to close to that area. The new department is back right next to the old department—in the opposite corner from the packaging department. So I’m back to walking HUGE amounts either to go fix problems in packaging or just to go to my office. I keep trying to think of the benefits of this added exercise, but my weary legs are just thankful it’s Friday.
Writing. Last night I went to my first writers’ circle. The meeting wasn’t what I had anticipated, but it was okay. Each of us read a couple pieces and received input from the group. I read my piece from Christmas, “Fear Not”, and on from last summer called “Possibility.” I will go again and also probably seek out other sharing opportunities. Their encouragement (along with yours) has given me the oomph I needed to get some of my things out there and to also get busy on putting together other things for publication.
And now I’m getting ready to help give Asher a bath. What a wonderful way to start my weekend! May there be small bundles of joy in your weekend, too!
Baby first. Asher continues to be amazingly beautiful. Beth would like for him to get his days and nights straightened around. We’ve told her that will come. Ann came over on Tuesday with Penelope and Caden. I have a wonderful picture of all three grandsweeties but I don’t know how to post it. (Any and all coaching will be accepted.) Nelson has decided that Asher is Pepa’s boy.
Nelson. (insert deep sigh) The therapist told him at his session on Wednesday that he didn’t believe that therapy would increase the functioning of his ankle. This may be as good as it gets. That was really hard to hear. His next doctor’s apt isn’t until the 10th. So now we wait and see. Edit: Friday’s session held no better news.
Work. (insert head shake) I’m exhausted. A big part of that is mental (but you knew that all along). I start my day by getting everything going in packaging. I’ve been training D to take my job—I’ve been doing that from the beginning really, but it’s for real now. She’s feeling totally overwhelmed and inadequate for the job so I’ve been doing heavy duty encouraging there. Once things are situated there I’ve been moving to the new department to learn how to do that job. The new position is very hands on. I’m working with all kinds of power tools. I actually have a key to the toolbox—now that’s a hoot! Talk about feeling inadequate!
Now, I think I’ve mentioned, at least once or twice that I am a huge control freak. I am now in a situation where finding even threads of control are extremely limited at best. Too many people are telling me what to do. The guy who used to run the floor portion still works at the plant and has all kinds of knowledge, but doesn’t disseminate it well and doesn’t like the paper man of the department who doesn’t really know how to build everything who would rather I go to the engineer who is extremely soft spoken and who would rather defer to the guy who used to run the department who I’ve been told I’m not supposed to go to. Did I succeed in making that sound horribly confusing and conflictual? I hope so, because it is!
Edit: I talked to Ed about things this morning and he was wonderful. I was open about my frustration and my desire to be able to do my job well—and to the company’s satisfaction. He was able to assure. I left his office feeling excited and empowered.
And that’s just the mental exhaustion. Last summer they moved the packaging department to the back corner of the plant and then moved my office to close to that area. The new department is back right next to the old department—in the opposite corner from the packaging department. So I’m back to walking HUGE amounts either to go fix problems in packaging or just to go to my office. I keep trying to think of the benefits of this added exercise, but my weary legs are just thankful it’s Friday.
Writing. Last night I went to my first writers’ circle. The meeting wasn’t what I had anticipated, but it was okay. Each of us read a couple pieces and received input from the group. I read my piece from Christmas, “Fear Not”, and on from last summer called “Possibility.” I will go again and also probably seek out other sharing opportunities. Their encouragement (along with yours) has given me the oomph I needed to get some of my things out there and to also get busy on putting together other things for publication.
And now I’m getting ready to help give Asher a bath. What a wonderful way to start my weekend! May there be small bundles of joy in your weekend, too!
Monday, January 23, 2006
It's A Boy!
(Blue confetti is flying everywhere!)
Nicholas Asher was born at 1:43pm this afternoon.
He weighed 8lbs and 7oz.
He is 191/4 inches long.
He is absolutely beautiful!
Mommy is taking a nap.
Pepaw needed to come home and put his foot up.
Memaw is going to get the 'specially ordered dinner of Whopper and Onion Rings (two sauces), a large fountaine Pepsi, and a bag of sour cream and onion chips---she worked so hard she can have whatever she wants!
More to come tomorrow!
Nicholas Asher was born at 1:43pm this afternoon.
He weighed 8lbs and 7oz.
He is 191/4 inches long.
He is absolutely beautiful!
Mommy is taking a nap.
Pepaw needed to come home and put his foot up.
Memaw is going to get the 'specially ordered dinner of Whopper and Onion Rings (two sauces), a large fountaine Pepsi, and a bag of sour cream and onion chips---she worked so hard she can have whatever she wants!
More to come tomorrow!
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Kicked to the Curb
Turning on to our street when I came home from work on Thursday, I noticed that two houses down from our house there was a huge stack of stuff out on the tree lawn. Friday is trash day, but they only take trash on trash days. They don’t even take lawn/leaf refuse. They take trash on Tuesdays too, and that’s when to set out your recyclables. But nothing large is allowed. Until April, that is.
In April the town is divided into sectors and during your assigned week you can put anything and everything on the tree lawn. I have actually seen a kitchen sink! What’s really funny during that time is the trucks that cruise up and down the streets and the scads of people who scavenge through the piles and piles of peoples’ cast offs.
So it struck me as very odd that there was so much sitting out on the tree lawn. The house had had some remodeling done last fall, and initially I thought perhaps they were just retting out a bit more to go along with the remodeling. After all, one of the things boldly planted out on the tree lawn was a bright orange sofa.
A little later Nelson and I went out to dinner. We noticed that the pile had grown significantly, but not nearly as much as it grew by the time we came back an hour later. And it all began to make me wonder: why? What was going on? Did a neighbor die? Was the family cleaning up and out?
It reminded me of when my grandmother went into the Nursing Home. She was a collector. My parents called her a pack rat. She had so many antiques. She had stacks of quilts. When I was a child I remember venturing into the “front room.” There was no heat in the front room. There weren’t any lights in the front room. We would go there to retrieve treasures of all sorts and food from the chest freezer. Anyway, the door barely shut at the Home before my parent had a huge dumpster backed up to Grandma’s back door and they donned one-piece jumpsuits and emptied out the house. And everything, E-VER-Y-THING went into the dumpster.
I guess that shouldn’t have been too surprising to me. When I was very young my mother’s parents moved to South Carolina and we moved into their home. In the basement of that home was a beautiful round claw foot oak table. It ended up trashed. Later we moved into a house that had several attics. In one of the attics there were several boxes of antique glass. My mom threw them out without even unpacking them. Then, after my dad died and my mom moved to Arizona she gave away my great-grandmother’s bedroom suite and secretary desk. Gave them away to non-family members who had no interest in them and no emotional ties…like me.
There had been a group of people hanging out at the back of the house one time when we came by. There was a large pick-up backed up to the house with a few items in the back. And then it was gone. Who were those people? Kids? Relatives who just didn’t want to wade through all the “junk”?
The tree lawn was still piled high when I got home from work today. There’s a two-drawer file cabinet sitting there that looks good to me, but for some reason I just don’t think I could pick through the stuff. It feels somewhat disrespectful, cold and calloused.
I started thinking about what would happen when I die. Nelson has informed me that he is going first, his estimate is within five years. Annie has already informed of several items that she wants when I die. It’s kind of nice to know I have things that someone might want, especially when I realize I could live without most of it.
Things I don’t want on the curb:
-Daisy’s lamp. Daisy influenced my life in countless ways. She died during my senior year of cancer. She did macramé. Right before she died she started a hanging lamp. It lacked one panel for completion. Her husband and children got it finished and gave it to me as a wedding gift. It’s hanging over my “corner chair.”
-My great grandmothers mantle clock and the grandfather clock we gave my parents as a 25th anniversary gift.
-Grandma’s baby dish. It’s a crock like dish and there are still some of the decals showing.
-My books. I have lots of books. And while I have culled my collection since I’m no longer a pastor or counselor, there are still five shelving units and countless unpacked boxes. Part of the collection that I hope gets passed on are the very old children’s books.
-My brass rub. When I was in Europe during college, my roommate and I did several brass rubbings. I did one of a medieval nativity on black velvet paper with silver. My dad liked the piece so much he had it professionally matted and framed. It came back to us after my dad died.
-My Pooh collection. I have stuffed Poohs; Pooh watches; Pooh games; Pooh dishes; Pooh mugs; Pooh clocks; and newest of all a set of Pooh kitchen canisters.
The things that last though, I hope, won’t be found in boxes or on shelves. I hope not just some of my words will last, but the love behind them. I hope that there will be those who will remember my hard but be quicker to mention my constant love. When I die, there won’t be lots of money to hand out, so I hope that people will see that I spent my life on others.
I guess I hope when I’m gone that there won’t be much to kick out to the curb.
In April the town is divided into sectors and during your assigned week you can put anything and everything on the tree lawn. I have actually seen a kitchen sink! What’s really funny during that time is the trucks that cruise up and down the streets and the scads of people who scavenge through the piles and piles of peoples’ cast offs.
So it struck me as very odd that there was so much sitting out on the tree lawn. The house had had some remodeling done last fall, and initially I thought perhaps they were just retting out a bit more to go along with the remodeling. After all, one of the things boldly planted out on the tree lawn was a bright orange sofa.
A little later Nelson and I went out to dinner. We noticed that the pile had grown significantly, but not nearly as much as it grew by the time we came back an hour later. And it all began to make me wonder: why? What was going on? Did a neighbor die? Was the family cleaning up and out?
It reminded me of when my grandmother went into the Nursing Home. She was a collector. My parents called her a pack rat. She had so many antiques. She had stacks of quilts. When I was a child I remember venturing into the “front room.” There was no heat in the front room. There weren’t any lights in the front room. We would go there to retrieve treasures of all sorts and food from the chest freezer. Anyway, the door barely shut at the Home before my parent had a huge dumpster backed up to Grandma’s back door and they donned one-piece jumpsuits and emptied out the house. And everything, E-VER-Y-THING went into the dumpster.
I guess that shouldn’t have been too surprising to me. When I was very young my mother’s parents moved to South Carolina and we moved into their home. In the basement of that home was a beautiful round claw foot oak table. It ended up trashed. Later we moved into a house that had several attics. In one of the attics there were several boxes of antique glass. My mom threw them out without even unpacking them. Then, after my dad died and my mom moved to Arizona she gave away my great-grandmother’s bedroom suite and secretary desk. Gave them away to non-family members who had no interest in them and no emotional ties…like me.
There had been a group of people hanging out at the back of the house one time when we came by. There was a large pick-up backed up to the house with a few items in the back. And then it was gone. Who were those people? Kids? Relatives who just didn’t want to wade through all the “junk”?
The tree lawn was still piled high when I got home from work today. There’s a two-drawer file cabinet sitting there that looks good to me, but for some reason I just don’t think I could pick through the stuff. It feels somewhat disrespectful, cold and calloused.
I started thinking about what would happen when I die. Nelson has informed me that he is going first, his estimate is within five years. Annie has already informed of several items that she wants when I die. It’s kind of nice to know I have things that someone might want, especially when I realize I could live without most of it.
Things I don’t want on the curb:
-Daisy’s lamp. Daisy influenced my life in countless ways. She died during my senior year of cancer. She did macramé. Right before she died she started a hanging lamp. It lacked one panel for completion. Her husband and children got it finished and gave it to me as a wedding gift. It’s hanging over my “corner chair.”
-My great grandmothers mantle clock and the grandfather clock we gave my parents as a 25th anniversary gift.
-Grandma’s baby dish. It’s a crock like dish and there are still some of the decals showing.
-My books. I have lots of books. And while I have culled my collection since I’m no longer a pastor or counselor, there are still five shelving units and countless unpacked boxes. Part of the collection that I hope gets passed on are the very old children’s books.
-My brass rub. When I was in Europe during college, my roommate and I did several brass rubbings. I did one of a medieval nativity on black velvet paper with silver. My dad liked the piece so much he had it professionally matted and framed. It came back to us after my dad died.
-My Pooh collection. I have stuffed Poohs; Pooh watches; Pooh games; Pooh dishes; Pooh mugs; Pooh clocks; and newest of all a set of Pooh kitchen canisters.
The things that last though, I hope, won’t be found in boxes or on shelves. I hope not just some of my words will last, but the love behind them. I hope that there will be those who will remember my hard but be quicker to mention my constant love. When I die, there won’t be lots of money to hand out, so I hope that people will see that I spent my life on others.
I guess I hope when I’m gone that there won’t be much to kick out to the curb.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Discoveries
My how time flies.
We still don’t have a baby. Looks like he may arrive right on time. Beth is still working, albeit her shifts are reduced, but she’s plugging away.
Nelson has now added an electrical shock to his therapy. He’s getting around better and doing more things for himself.
A really, really interesting thing happened at work. Since Tuesday morning I’ve been trying to figure something. It wasn’t until I started typing this entry that the answer dawned on me.
One of the guys I work with came to me confused and concerned that one of the ladies in the plant mentioned someone to him that I had only said to him AND WROTE ABOUT HERE. Imagine that. And now, by tracing back the who said what to whom, I know who has been reading my diary from work—at least one of the “whos” and since I know that she doesn’t like me it makes sense why she would try and spread stuff around.
I had a meeting with the Job and Family Services worker and with the woman who had been spreading rumors and stirring up trouble. We decided to give her another chance. Some of the others were leery about it (those she had been spreading rumors about), but this work program is all about second chances. We’ll see how she does. If yesterday is any indication she’ll be okay.
My first Sunday playing on the Praise Team went well. I received a lot of encouragement to continue. At the rehearsal there was a hymn we were using that didn’t have chords written down and they realized it right away and helped me out. My fears are being put to rest and I’m getting excited about the new opportunities. I need my calluses to build up so my fingers will stop hurting—but it’s a good pain (if that makes any sense).
Yesterday, at the end of the day Mr. R came to the packaging office with one of the area pastors. I had heard of this man, he’s on staff at one of the larger churches in town. Mr. R wanted me to describe the T-Net program and its benefits. I jumped quickly into spiel mode—but it was so much more than that. At my old job, way back when it seems, I would go out and represent the agency and drum up dollars to support the program. Even though I knew this opportunity might be about dollars, I considered it such an opportunity to share the rich blessings I have experienced by being a part of this ministry and what I have seen it accomplish in the lives of others.
There’s more I want to write about but I need to get myself around for work. We’ll finish this later on…
We still don’t have a baby. Looks like he may arrive right on time. Beth is still working, albeit her shifts are reduced, but she’s plugging away.
Nelson has now added an electrical shock to his therapy. He’s getting around better and doing more things for himself.
A really, really interesting thing happened at work. Since Tuesday morning I’ve been trying to figure something. It wasn’t until I started typing this entry that the answer dawned on me.
One of the guys I work with came to me confused and concerned that one of the ladies in the plant mentioned someone to him that I had only said to him AND WROTE ABOUT HERE. Imagine that. And now, by tracing back the who said what to whom, I know who has been reading my diary from work—at least one of the “whos” and since I know that she doesn’t like me it makes sense why she would try and spread stuff around.
I had a meeting with the Job and Family Services worker and with the woman who had been spreading rumors and stirring up trouble. We decided to give her another chance. Some of the others were leery about it (those she had been spreading rumors about), but this work program is all about second chances. We’ll see how she does. If yesterday is any indication she’ll be okay.
My first Sunday playing on the Praise Team went well. I received a lot of encouragement to continue. At the rehearsal there was a hymn we were using that didn’t have chords written down and they realized it right away and helped me out. My fears are being put to rest and I’m getting excited about the new opportunities. I need my calluses to build up so my fingers will stop hurting—but it’s a good pain (if that makes any sense).
Yesterday, at the end of the day Mr. R came to the packaging office with one of the area pastors. I had heard of this man, he’s on staff at one of the larger churches in town. Mr. R wanted me to describe the T-Net program and its benefits. I jumped quickly into spiel mode—but it was so much more than that. At my old job, way back when it seems, I would go out and represent the agency and drum up dollars to support the program. Even though I knew this opportunity might be about dollars, I considered it such an opportunity to share the rich blessings I have experienced by being a part of this ministry and what I have seen it accomplish in the lives of others.
There’s more I want to write about but I need to get myself around for work. We’ll finish this later on…
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Life Part Two
Still no baby. And Beth even worked a double shift yesterday. Going to put the crib together today.
Good news on Nelson. The therapist felt that Nelson hadn’t hurt his ankle. All the paperwork for payment on the therapy had been corrected for the past and put on file for the future. They did the “squeeze” on Nelson’s ankle and it doesn’t look like what we thought was swelling is swelling. He’s just going to have one large cankle. He’s been walking more without the boot and trying to get around without the crutch. Our house is good for this as we are tight fit and there’s plenty of furniture and “stuff” to reach out to as he walks from room to room.
I thought some more about how I described my joining the Praise Team. I really am excited for the opportunity, but feel way out of my league. Here’s an example of what I mean. I told the group up front I’m a REAL basic player. I told them about an incident I observed when I got to church early one morning and watched them practice. One of the singers complained about the key the music was in (she said she couldn’t find a harmony—whatever) so the musicians commenced to play the song in three different keys trying to find one for her to play in. I can’t do that. I need music written out in front of me in very basic chords. They nodded in understanding.
Then I went to my first practice on Tuesday. The leader had given us a CD of the music and I had listened to it several times at work. While we were practicing one of the songs I was doing my best to finger pick the chords rather than strum—adds a little and it’s as fancy as I get. I leaned in close behind the piano player and couldn’t hardly believe how badly my guitar was out of tune. At the end of the song I looked at the top of her music and there was a note she had written about changing to a different key. I wasn’t out of tune I was playing in the original key. No one told me we were changing the key. I felt foolish and even more sure that I wasn’t going to fit in.
It snowed last night, but worse than the snow was the wind. I was afraid when I crawled out of bed this morning I was going to find the house sitting in a strange place with a bunch of munchkins gathered around singing some strange song. But we’re still in Ohio, Toto. And that’s probably a good thing, wouldn’t want to travel to far from home with a baby so close to being born.
Actually, it seems like marvelous weather for some hot chocolate. So if you’ll excuse me…I wonder if we still have any whipped cream…mmmmmmmmmm.
Good news on Nelson. The therapist felt that Nelson hadn’t hurt his ankle. All the paperwork for payment on the therapy had been corrected for the past and put on file for the future. They did the “squeeze” on Nelson’s ankle and it doesn’t look like what we thought was swelling is swelling. He’s just going to have one large cankle. He’s been walking more without the boot and trying to get around without the crutch. Our house is good for this as we are tight fit and there’s plenty of furniture and “stuff” to reach out to as he walks from room to room.
I thought some more about how I described my joining the Praise Team. I really am excited for the opportunity, but feel way out of my league. Here’s an example of what I mean. I told the group up front I’m a REAL basic player. I told them about an incident I observed when I got to church early one morning and watched them practice. One of the singers complained about the key the music was in (she said she couldn’t find a harmony—whatever) so the musicians commenced to play the song in three different keys trying to find one for her to play in. I can’t do that. I need music written out in front of me in very basic chords. They nodded in understanding.
Then I went to my first practice on Tuesday. The leader had given us a CD of the music and I had listened to it several times at work. While we were practicing one of the songs I was doing my best to finger pick the chords rather than strum—adds a little and it’s as fancy as I get. I leaned in close behind the piano player and couldn’t hardly believe how badly my guitar was out of tune. At the end of the song I looked at the top of her music and there was a note she had written about changing to a different key. I wasn’t out of tune I was playing in the original key. No one told me we were changing the key. I felt foolish and even more sure that I wasn’t going to fit in.
It snowed last night, but worse than the snow was the wind. I was afraid when I crawled out of bed this morning I was going to find the house sitting in a strange place with a bunch of munchkins gathered around singing some strange song. But we’re still in Ohio, Toto. And that’s probably a good thing, wouldn’t want to travel to far from home with a baby so close to being born.
Actually, it seems like marvelous weather for some hot chocolate. So if you’ll excuse me…I wonder if we still have any whipped cream…mmmmmmmmmm.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Life
Still no baby. Tomorrow is a full moon.
Nelson walked up the stairs to go to the bathroom on Thursday. He heard something “snap” in his ankle. It’s been super sore since then. He’s been battling with Workman’s Comp, the therapy place, and the Dr. office about getting his therapy paid for. Someone isn’t doing the paperwork properly and in a timely fashion. So we ended up with a $2000 bill—it sort of goes along with the over $400 gas bill…and it hasn’t even really been that cold. Yippee.
It’s been a rough week at work. Today was the emotionally worst. On the 3rd a new program began and I’m supervising it. These new folks are working to be able to maintain their food stamps and other government assistance. One of these workers is a very unhappy and mean spirited woman who likes to gossip and make up stories about people. Well, she had a little info about me and she ran with it and decided to tell everyone on both work crews what she thought she new, but she was horribly wrong--almost laughably so. She also performed her character assassination on one of the other workers. It was a good thing for her that she didn’t feel well and decided not to work today. When I learned what she did I immediately called Dan and told him that she was no longer welcome on the work team. I will do everything in my power to make our workplace safe and positive.
The interesting thing that did come out of the above problem was the opportunity to discuss with a couple of employees the problem of making assumptions. Some of the new folks had never had contact with people who had been in jail or prison. They had been quick to judge based on what the nasty woman had said. They felt badly because after having worked with some of us they realized we were people who made mistakes, but we were doing everything in our power to put our lives back together.
It’s no fun being the target of someone’s venom, but if I can use my situation to help others then I guess I shouldn’t be upset.
Ok, I’m getting tired. Days are sort of like that for me. I get up, early. Play all my Scrabble games and read a few diaries/blogs. I work hard until I’m done. I come home, play Scrabble, read diaries/blogs, watch some TV and go to bed. Some days I get inspired to do housework and sometimes I write. Most nights the writing seems like drivel. I get better stuff on the weekend. Then I’m in bed around 9:30.
Two things are going to change that pattern somewhat. On Tuesday nights I’ll be attending Praise Team practice…at least for now. I was double teamed on that one. Nelson and the team leader were in cahoots and before I knew it I was agreeing to be a part of the 8:30 praise team. I felt way out of my league and may not be able to continue. I really am just a strummer. Then on Thursdays Nelson and I will be meeting with our new small group as a part of our church’s participation in the 40 Days of Community. I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be an opportunity to meet new people as we were randomly assigned to a group.
So that’s life. And bed is next.
Nelson walked up the stairs to go to the bathroom on Thursday. He heard something “snap” in his ankle. It’s been super sore since then. He’s been battling with Workman’s Comp, the therapy place, and the Dr. office about getting his therapy paid for. Someone isn’t doing the paperwork properly and in a timely fashion. So we ended up with a $2000 bill—it sort of goes along with the over $400 gas bill…and it hasn’t even really been that cold. Yippee.
It’s been a rough week at work. Today was the emotionally worst. On the 3rd a new program began and I’m supervising it. These new folks are working to be able to maintain their food stamps and other government assistance. One of these workers is a very unhappy and mean spirited woman who likes to gossip and make up stories about people. Well, she had a little info about me and she ran with it and decided to tell everyone on both work crews what she thought she new, but she was horribly wrong--almost laughably so. She also performed her character assassination on one of the other workers. It was a good thing for her that she didn’t feel well and decided not to work today. When I learned what she did I immediately called Dan and told him that she was no longer welcome on the work team. I will do everything in my power to make our workplace safe and positive.
The interesting thing that did come out of the above problem was the opportunity to discuss with a couple of employees the problem of making assumptions. Some of the new folks had never had contact with people who had been in jail or prison. They had been quick to judge based on what the nasty woman had said. They felt badly because after having worked with some of us they realized we were people who made mistakes, but we were doing everything in our power to put our lives back together.
It’s no fun being the target of someone’s venom, but if I can use my situation to help others then I guess I shouldn’t be upset.
Ok, I’m getting tired. Days are sort of like that for me. I get up, early. Play all my Scrabble games and read a few diaries/blogs. I work hard until I’m done. I come home, play Scrabble, read diaries/blogs, watch some TV and go to bed. Some days I get inspired to do housework and sometimes I write. Most nights the writing seems like drivel. I get better stuff on the weekend. Then I’m in bed around 9:30.
Two things are going to change that pattern somewhat. On Tuesday nights I’ll be attending Praise Team practice…at least for now. I was double teamed on that one. Nelson and the team leader were in cahoots and before I knew it I was agreeing to be a part of the 8:30 praise team. I felt way out of my league and may not be able to continue. I really am just a strummer. Then on Thursdays Nelson and I will be meeting with our new small group as a part of our church’s participation in the 40 Days of Community. I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be an opportunity to meet new people as we were randomly assigned to a group.
So that’s life. And bed is next.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Dream Sequence
I had a very interesting dream this morning. I know it was morning because I woke up after it and since it was the last dream I think I had I remember the most from it.
I dreamt that I was working for R Company, doing the job I do right now. A group from the company we have the packaging contract with came to visit our plant. Now there’s a woman that I have email contact with who is curt in her emails and just seems extremely unpleasant. I cringe when I see she has sent me an email. Any time I have to ask a question it seems she replies in her curt manner and uses the opportunity to cancel an order. It’s gotten so bad that I ask for permission to email her, because I fear her canceling of orders.
So, in the dream the group from T Company walks up to where I’m working. Mr. R is standing at the back of the group. This woman walks right up to me and offers me a job in the T Company, offers me a very large salary and a prestigious position. The catch is that I would have to work for her. I asked several questions and then looked right at Mr. R and turned the job down flat. He seemed to smile with such approval. Then I woke up.
Now this dream has weird written all over it, but also a couple of other things that felt really good. And surprisingly, they aren’t the things I would have suspected. Usually, work dreams for me are filled with feelings of failure: too much on my plate, missing deadlines, fumbling and bumbling. There was none of that in this dream. Normally, at least in real life, to be given such an offer would lift my saggy self-esteem up a bunch of notches. That part didn’t even faze me. More money would be such a blessing (especially with the baby due at any time), but it was no motivator at all.
I really enjoy my job and I can’t hardly describe how much I really like the people I work with and for. The very thought of having to work with this woman, even with commensurate pay was so incredibly unappealing—I refused without even thinking about talking to Nelson about it. Even in the dream I just knew he would understand. (We later discussed it and he agreed with my decision.)
Later Nelson and I were discussing how we slept and I told him about the dream. Then he told me he had a dream about Home Depot. Well, that was the other dream I had…too weird to go into. We just thought it was interesting we both dreamed about the same place and had some of the same people in the dream and some weird twists that were kinda similar.
I don’t interpret them. I barely remember them. But I do believe they have meaning.
I dreamt that I was working for R Company, doing the job I do right now. A group from the company we have the packaging contract with came to visit our plant. Now there’s a woman that I have email contact with who is curt in her emails and just seems extremely unpleasant. I cringe when I see she has sent me an email. Any time I have to ask a question it seems she replies in her curt manner and uses the opportunity to cancel an order. It’s gotten so bad that I ask for permission to email her, because I fear her canceling of orders.
So, in the dream the group from T Company walks up to where I’m working. Mr. R is standing at the back of the group. This woman walks right up to me and offers me a job in the T Company, offers me a very large salary and a prestigious position. The catch is that I would have to work for her. I asked several questions and then looked right at Mr. R and turned the job down flat. He seemed to smile with such approval. Then I woke up.
Now this dream has weird written all over it, but also a couple of other things that felt really good. And surprisingly, they aren’t the things I would have suspected. Usually, work dreams for me are filled with feelings of failure: too much on my plate, missing deadlines, fumbling and bumbling. There was none of that in this dream. Normally, at least in real life, to be given such an offer would lift my saggy self-esteem up a bunch of notches. That part didn’t even faze me. More money would be such a blessing (especially with the baby due at any time), but it was no motivator at all.
I really enjoy my job and I can’t hardly describe how much I really like the people I work with and for. The very thought of having to work with this woman, even with commensurate pay was so incredibly unappealing—I refused without even thinking about talking to Nelson about it. Even in the dream I just knew he would understand. (We later discussed it and he agreed with my decision.)
Later Nelson and I were discussing how we slept and I told him about the dream. Then he told me he had a dream about Home Depot. Well, that was the other dream I had…too weird to go into. We just thought it was interesting we both dreamed about the same place and had some of the same people in the dream and some weird twists that were kinda similar.
I don’t interpret them. I barely remember them. But I do believe they have meaning.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Class Reunion
I’ve been reading so many deep and thought-provoking entries in other people’s blogs and diaries. And while I have been encouraged to think and remember, I also have been feeling exceedingly shallow. I feel thought-less. I feel shallow. Here’s how shallow I am:
In four months my class is holding it’s 30th high school reunion and I was just sitting here thinking about two things: how am I going to lose 40lbs before April 1 and how will I inform my former “best friends forever” of my criminal status.
Me. I never smoked a cigarette. Never even took one puff. Was only drunk once and got so sick I swore off alcohol completely. I never tried any drugs. I wasn’t even around them, that I knew of. I never got a speeding ticket and the only accident I caused was when I tried to park between two cars in a hurry because I was late for band practice and I hit a friend’s car and when backing from that I scraped my boyfriend’s parent’s car on the other side. I never shoplifted. My worse crime was over-due library books. I was fourth runner up to Miss Teenage Columbus, in the band, in choir and ensembles, in drama, and extremely active in my church youth group.
Me. I graduated from college. Got married. Had two beautiful children. Pastored for 20 years, and was a counselor for seven. Have 3 masters’ degrees, half the work done for a doctorate, and 4000 clinically supervised CPE hours.
I had everything and I handed it back. Stupid barely describes me.
Me. Arrogant. I could take on the world. I could flirt with danger. Rules were for others who couldn’t handle things. I was super mom, super counselor, super pastor. Boundaries were for wimps. I gave and gave and gave. Why hold back anything in reserve? Why even have a reserve? I was totally spread beyond thin and completely spent. And somehow I thought that was a good thing.
Sometimes when I reflect back to that time and it seems like a dream, like I must be thinking about someone else’s life. It felt that way while I was living it too, only it wasn’t a dream it was a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up. And being raised in an alcoholic dysfunctional family was great prep ground for being about to wear the mask of “everything’s just hunky dory” when I would need it at church or work or even home. It was a phony as Mr. Rourke on Fantasy Island: “Smiles everyone, smiles.”
Come to think of it, there was a lot of that “smiling” going on when I was in high school. My parents were alcoholics, but I didn’t “know” that. Mom never went to bed without a couple drinks first, and most nights she fell asleep in her chair. I thought she just woke up hard. I didn’t know they were hangovers. The first DUI I knew my dad got was when I was in college.
I wonder about affairs. Dad traveled for many years for work. He would leave on Monday’s and not come home until the weekend. He was quite flirtatious. The women all loved him. One night after several drinks it even seemed Mom tried to confess something. I was ready to hear it. I’ve never gone back and asked. My brother’s first marriage failed because he had affairs. My sister married a man whose wife had only been dead two months—their relationship had been “building” before the death. He ended up having affairs on Sis and they divorced. And then there’s me.
Not only did we know how to wear smiles to cover our shame; we knew mastered the art of the disconnected or fragmented life. Have you ever watched a little kid eat who can’t stand to have their food touch? Frantic effort is expended to make sure that there is no inner-mingling between meat and potatoes or potatoes and veggies. I was so completely deluded that I thought I could keep all those things separated in my life—denial. It’s poison, slowly killing the soul.
Tuesday morning a new group of workers started out at the plant. I’m supervising them. They’re working in conjunction with T-Net and with Job and Family Services. They have to work so many hours to continue to receive their benefits (food stamps). The agreement between T-Net and the R Company is that the work that these folks do will not be anything that would be regular R Company work. So mostly it’s busy work. Takes a lot of supervision. But I digress…
Anyway, when this group started on Tuesday, Dan introduced me and in that introduction told them I had a pretty interesting story that he hoped I would tell them some day. It’s the felon makes good story. I sort of blitzed by that and hoped that no one would ask. They didn’t on Tuesday, or on Wednesday. Today they reminded me and they asked so I gave them the Reader’s Digest version. Even without giving them a single detail of my crime, they stood there and a couple jaws dropped. I just don’t look the part. I don’t act the part. I’m not the part and yet I am.
You know, thinking back over this, perhaps there’s more than 40lbs I need to lose.
And why do I want to go to this reunion anyway? There are a few people I would dearly love to see. The group I hung out with were the brainiacs. My dear friend is a doctor, a heart surgeon. One of gang is a music professor at a university in the Chicago area. One was the editor of a popular magazine here in Ohio. Will the people I really want to see be there? Is there anybody wondering about me?
My life probably would seem like a tremendous disappointment to them. At times it feels that way to me and yet I know that it has been through brokenness that I have come to understand real love and forgiveness demonstrated through Nelson (over and over). It wasn’t until the arrogance was shattered and I reached out to grab the hand of one far greater than me that I began to see my significance.
These days there’s a smile, but it’s not contrived or covering. It’s born of genuine contentment—thin at spots and hard to discern but there nonetheless. And the masks come out rarely if ever. I’m just learning how to really be real.
Ok, now I’m sitting here and I’m wondering, not so much how I’ll tell my story, but what stories of journeys others have taken. Surely, I’m not the only one with heartache and growth to share.
I wonder how much weight everyone else is thinking about losing before April 1st.
In four months my class is holding it’s 30th high school reunion and I was just sitting here thinking about two things: how am I going to lose 40lbs before April 1 and how will I inform my former “best friends forever” of my criminal status.
Me. I never smoked a cigarette. Never even took one puff. Was only drunk once and got so sick I swore off alcohol completely. I never tried any drugs. I wasn’t even around them, that I knew of. I never got a speeding ticket and the only accident I caused was when I tried to park between two cars in a hurry because I was late for band practice and I hit a friend’s car and when backing from that I scraped my boyfriend’s parent’s car on the other side. I never shoplifted. My worse crime was over-due library books. I was fourth runner up to Miss Teenage Columbus, in the band, in choir and ensembles, in drama, and extremely active in my church youth group.
Me. I graduated from college. Got married. Had two beautiful children. Pastored for 20 years, and was a counselor for seven. Have 3 masters’ degrees, half the work done for a doctorate, and 4000 clinically supervised CPE hours.
I had everything and I handed it back. Stupid barely describes me.
Me. Arrogant. I could take on the world. I could flirt with danger. Rules were for others who couldn’t handle things. I was super mom, super counselor, super pastor. Boundaries were for wimps. I gave and gave and gave. Why hold back anything in reserve? Why even have a reserve? I was totally spread beyond thin and completely spent. And somehow I thought that was a good thing.
Sometimes when I reflect back to that time and it seems like a dream, like I must be thinking about someone else’s life. It felt that way while I was living it too, only it wasn’t a dream it was a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up. And being raised in an alcoholic dysfunctional family was great prep ground for being about to wear the mask of “everything’s just hunky dory” when I would need it at church or work or even home. It was a phony as Mr. Rourke on Fantasy Island: “Smiles everyone, smiles.”
Come to think of it, there was a lot of that “smiling” going on when I was in high school. My parents were alcoholics, but I didn’t “know” that. Mom never went to bed without a couple drinks first, and most nights she fell asleep in her chair. I thought she just woke up hard. I didn’t know they were hangovers. The first DUI I knew my dad got was when I was in college.
I wonder about affairs. Dad traveled for many years for work. He would leave on Monday’s and not come home until the weekend. He was quite flirtatious. The women all loved him. One night after several drinks it even seemed Mom tried to confess something. I was ready to hear it. I’ve never gone back and asked. My brother’s first marriage failed because he had affairs. My sister married a man whose wife had only been dead two months—their relationship had been “building” before the death. He ended up having affairs on Sis and they divorced. And then there’s me.
Not only did we know how to wear smiles to cover our shame; we knew mastered the art of the disconnected or fragmented life. Have you ever watched a little kid eat who can’t stand to have their food touch? Frantic effort is expended to make sure that there is no inner-mingling between meat and potatoes or potatoes and veggies. I was so completely deluded that I thought I could keep all those things separated in my life—denial. It’s poison, slowly killing the soul.
Tuesday morning a new group of workers started out at the plant. I’m supervising them. They’re working in conjunction with T-Net and with Job and Family Services. They have to work so many hours to continue to receive their benefits (food stamps). The agreement between T-Net and the R Company is that the work that these folks do will not be anything that would be regular R Company work. So mostly it’s busy work. Takes a lot of supervision. But I digress…
Anyway, when this group started on Tuesday, Dan introduced me and in that introduction told them I had a pretty interesting story that he hoped I would tell them some day. It’s the felon makes good story. I sort of blitzed by that and hoped that no one would ask. They didn’t on Tuesday, or on Wednesday. Today they reminded me and they asked so I gave them the Reader’s Digest version. Even without giving them a single detail of my crime, they stood there and a couple jaws dropped. I just don’t look the part. I don’t act the part. I’m not the part and yet I am.
You know, thinking back over this, perhaps there’s more than 40lbs I need to lose.
And why do I want to go to this reunion anyway? There are a few people I would dearly love to see. The group I hung out with were the brainiacs. My dear friend is a doctor, a heart surgeon. One of gang is a music professor at a university in the Chicago area. One was the editor of a popular magazine here in Ohio. Will the people I really want to see be there? Is there anybody wondering about me?
My life probably would seem like a tremendous disappointment to them. At times it feels that way to me and yet I know that it has been through brokenness that I have come to understand real love and forgiveness demonstrated through Nelson (over and over). It wasn’t until the arrogance was shattered and I reached out to grab the hand of one far greater than me that I began to see my significance.
These days there’s a smile, but it’s not contrived or covering. It’s born of genuine contentment—thin at spots and hard to discern but there nonetheless. And the masks come out rarely if ever. I’m just learning how to really be real.
Ok, now I’m sitting here and I’m wondering, not so much how I’ll tell my story, but what stories of journeys others have taken. Surely, I’m not the only one with heartache and growth to share.
I wonder how much weight everyone else is thinking about losing before April 1st.
Reader's Digest Version
I have not dropped off the face of the planet.
New Year’s Eve with friends was an absolute blast. Laughed a LOT and ate way too much.
Tuesday started feeling sick. Went to bed before 8pm and slept all night. Felt better, but definitely have a cold. Yay.
Wednesday after work Nelson and I went grocery shopping. He rode around in one of those electric carts. It was just so good to have him out and about.
At Beth’s appointment on Tuesday she learned that the baby now weighs 7lbs 13oz and will probably come in the next two weeks.
Things are possibly shaking up a bit at work…will write more about that later.
Nelson started feeling sick last night. He took some meds and went to bed early.
I slept late this morning and now have to rush. I’ll be back.
New Year’s Eve with friends was an absolute blast. Laughed a LOT and ate way too much.
Tuesday started feeling sick. Went to bed before 8pm and slept all night. Felt better, but definitely have a cold. Yay.
Wednesday after work Nelson and I went grocery shopping. He rode around in one of those electric carts. It was just so good to have him out and about.
At Beth’s appointment on Tuesday she learned that the baby now weighs 7lbs 13oz and will probably come in the next two weeks.
Things are possibly shaking up a bit at work…will write more about that later.
Nelson started feeling sick last night. He took some meds and went to bed early.
I slept late this morning and now have to rush. I’ll be back.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Getting Ready for the New
Nelson is napping.
Beth is getting herself around.
I’m sitting here at the computer, listening to the Top 20 Meltdown of Christian Songs from 2005.
I just browsed through my entries from this year. What a year it’s been. I started out with a trip to Mom’s in January. January should always include a trip to Arizona. It’s just the right thing to do. February included a visit to Annie’s and wonderful time with Penelope. March chronicled the start of my new position at R Company. April held late snows and my birthday. May was Nelson’s birthday and the start of the house construction—finally! June was when Nelson broke his ankle and so July was a time for surgeries and recovery. August held my own falling and wounding of my foot. September we began the pregnancy journey with Beth. October we started attending church again. Sweet Caden was born in November. December I shared some of my story at church and had a reflection piece published on the church website.
It was definitely a years of highs and lows, but one thing seemed to weave throughout the entries and thoughts and that was the grace of God expressed in multiple blessings and right on time mercies. Disappointments and discouragements flared, but were quickly replaced by peace and sometimes even joys.
I don’t know everything that 2006 will hold. I do know that we will have another new baby. Soon hopefully. I know that Nelson will have to figure out how to walk all over again and may have to face changing the way he does “work.” I know that I am going to start attending a meeting geared at helping aspiring writers. Nelson and I are going to hit the intentionally healthy eating plan again (notice what word I am NOT using to describe this) with the hope of losing some weight.
I’m going to write something every day. This means I am going to be reading more and observing more. I’m going to face the coming days with my eyes open to see, explore, and reflect. Having the Traveldrive will help in this commitment.
And I’m going to ride my bike this year. I don’t know how much. I’d love to get to the place where I was riding to work…we’ll have to see about that. I just know that I loved riding bike and I miss it.
Well, that’s all for now. I have some things to do around the house. I already did laundry, made breakfast, and vacuumed downstairs this morning. We’re going to drive down to where we used to live and spend the evening with some very dear friends of ours. We used to spend every New Year’s Eve with them. It will be sweet to be with them again. Besides Karen and I always whoop the boys at cards and I could use a dose of winning right about now.
Be safe and smart tonight and may the new year become for you a year of discoveries, mysteries, and beauty!
Beth is getting herself around.
I’m sitting here at the computer, listening to the Top 20 Meltdown of Christian Songs from 2005.
I just browsed through my entries from this year. What a year it’s been. I started out with a trip to Mom’s in January. January should always include a trip to Arizona. It’s just the right thing to do. February included a visit to Annie’s and wonderful time with Penelope. March chronicled the start of my new position at R Company. April held late snows and my birthday. May was Nelson’s birthday and the start of the house construction—finally! June was when Nelson broke his ankle and so July was a time for surgeries and recovery. August held my own falling and wounding of my foot. September we began the pregnancy journey with Beth. October we started attending church again. Sweet Caden was born in November. December I shared some of my story at church and had a reflection piece published on the church website.
It was definitely a years of highs and lows, but one thing seemed to weave throughout the entries and thoughts and that was the grace of God expressed in multiple blessings and right on time mercies. Disappointments and discouragements flared, but were quickly replaced by peace and sometimes even joys.
I don’t know everything that 2006 will hold. I do know that we will have another new baby. Soon hopefully. I know that Nelson will have to figure out how to walk all over again and may have to face changing the way he does “work.” I know that I am going to start attending a meeting geared at helping aspiring writers. Nelson and I are going to hit the intentionally healthy eating plan again (notice what word I am NOT using to describe this) with the hope of losing some weight.
I’m going to write something every day. This means I am going to be reading more and observing more. I’m going to face the coming days with my eyes open to see, explore, and reflect. Having the Traveldrive will help in this commitment.
And I’m going to ride my bike this year. I don’t know how much. I’d love to get to the place where I was riding to work…we’ll have to see about that. I just know that I loved riding bike and I miss it.
Well, that’s all for now. I have some things to do around the house. I already did laundry, made breakfast, and vacuumed downstairs this morning. We’re going to drive down to where we used to live and spend the evening with some very dear friends of ours. We used to spend every New Year’s Eve with them. It will be sweet to be with them again. Besides Karen and I always whoop the boys at cards and I could use a dose of winning right about now.
Be safe and smart tonight and may the new year become for you a year of discoveries, mysteries, and beauty!
Friday, December 30, 2005
Frustration
Wherever I go.
Whatever I write.
Wait that’s not how the song goes…but it is how my writing is going. I can take my thoughts and creativity wherever there’s a computer. Another excuse removed by my amazing little Traveldrive that I got for Christmas. I’m pretty excited about this.
I wrote some things here at work. Then I wrote some more at home. I made corrections and deletions and now I’m back at work typing in the same files I was typing at while I was home. This technology is so cool.
Wednesday after work Beth and I were supposed to go to M-town to pick up her bed and then go get a mattress set. Well, the guy with the mattresses needed to cancel. Beth was disappointed. She still went to get the bed. While she did that Nelson and I went for pizza at Pizza Hut’s buffet. He showed off a bit, walking in the parking lot without his crutch. He only took about 20 steps and was warn out and had to go back to the crutch. After dinner Beth was back with the bed so I manhandled the monstrosity and got it up to her bedroom.
Thursday after work Beth and I planned to go to get the mattress set. When we got to the place we were disappointed beyond belief. The set that we were told about on the phone was trash—but they would sell us this better version for only $350. That was more than we wanted to spend and I was so irritated that we just left. We went over to Big Lots. They had a set that was still more than we wanted to spend, but Beth liked it so we called Nelson to make sure we had enough on the card. I went back in and wrote a Capital One check against the balance on the card. The clerk had to call for approval and the check approving company denied the check. So we came home empty handed again. I was so bummed. Beth is so uncomfortable sleeping on the futon and it’s becoming more and more difficult for her to get out of bed.
Nelson had his last therapy session Wednesday evening. He needs more. He’s at the doctor right now.
I wrote my therapist a letter. I haven’t seen her since March. It was a good way to think back over the year and examine some of the ways I’ve grown, held ground, and used the things I learned about myself through the course of therapy. It was a good exercise and a good letter.
That said, I must confess that I have nearly fretted about something to the point that I have made myself physically ill. I’m beginning to think maybe I’m not cut out for this job. Ed came to me right before lunch and told me he was shutting down the production line right after they finished the next order. It won’t start up again until Tuesday. That means there won’t be enough work for the team. I need to tell them that they won’t need to come in until next Wednesday. My head assures me that I did everything I could. I know that fiscally it’s the responsible thing—but they just were off two weeks because there wasn’t any work and now at least two more days off next week (we’re closed on Monday).
This level of disappointment has to be the manifestation of all the disappointments of this week—including anticipating bad news from Nelson’s doctor visit. All my perkiness is buried under a thick scratchy wool blanket—like the one I had in jail: very little warmth and no comfort whatsoever.
I just got off the phone with Nelson. He got frustrated with me and hung up. The doctor has told him to stop wearing the walking boot, gave him some smaller ankle support and told him to wear a shoe. I am beginning to think that his man may work well with bones but he is not a healing specialist. A surgeon, yes—but he is so blatantly clueless. Well, he did one thing. He moved me out of disappointment to full blown anger.
He’s still concerned with the swelling, but his solution was to write some note to the therapist that he needs to squeeze the fluid out. Having worn a compression hose for 6 weeks after three months of ace wraps didn’t “squeeze” the fluid out. But what do I know?
The only good I can see that is coming out of this is that he wrote a script for 6 more weeks of therapy, Nelson doesn’t have to go back to work before his next appointment (Feb. 2), and supposedly he’s healing nicely.
And now I have to push away from my desk, go back out on the floor and make boxes and act like nothing is wrong. I don’t think I’m that good an actress. I’ll let you know how I did.
Whatever I write.
Wait that’s not how the song goes…but it is how my writing is going. I can take my thoughts and creativity wherever there’s a computer. Another excuse removed by my amazing little Traveldrive that I got for Christmas. I’m pretty excited about this.
I wrote some things here at work. Then I wrote some more at home. I made corrections and deletions and now I’m back at work typing in the same files I was typing at while I was home. This technology is so cool.
Wednesday after work Beth and I were supposed to go to M-town to pick up her bed and then go get a mattress set. Well, the guy with the mattresses needed to cancel. Beth was disappointed. She still went to get the bed. While she did that Nelson and I went for pizza at Pizza Hut’s buffet. He showed off a bit, walking in the parking lot without his crutch. He only took about 20 steps and was warn out and had to go back to the crutch. After dinner Beth was back with the bed so I manhandled the monstrosity and got it up to her bedroom.
Thursday after work Beth and I planned to go to get the mattress set. When we got to the place we were disappointed beyond belief. The set that we were told about on the phone was trash—but they would sell us this better version for only $350. That was more than we wanted to spend and I was so irritated that we just left. We went over to Big Lots. They had a set that was still more than we wanted to spend, but Beth liked it so we called Nelson to make sure we had enough on the card. I went back in and wrote a Capital One check against the balance on the card. The clerk had to call for approval and the check approving company denied the check. So we came home empty handed again. I was so bummed. Beth is so uncomfortable sleeping on the futon and it’s becoming more and more difficult for her to get out of bed.
Nelson had his last therapy session Wednesday evening. He needs more. He’s at the doctor right now.
I wrote my therapist a letter. I haven’t seen her since March. It was a good way to think back over the year and examine some of the ways I’ve grown, held ground, and used the things I learned about myself through the course of therapy. It was a good exercise and a good letter.
That said, I must confess that I have nearly fretted about something to the point that I have made myself physically ill. I’m beginning to think maybe I’m not cut out for this job. Ed came to me right before lunch and told me he was shutting down the production line right after they finished the next order. It won’t start up again until Tuesday. That means there won’t be enough work for the team. I need to tell them that they won’t need to come in until next Wednesday. My head assures me that I did everything I could. I know that fiscally it’s the responsible thing—but they just were off two weeks because there wasn’t any work and now at least two more days off next week (we’re closed on Monday).
This level of disappointment has to be the manifestation of all the disappointments of this week—including anticipating bad news from Nelson’s doctor visit. All my perkiness is buried under a thick scratchy wool blanket—like the one I had in jail: very little warmth and no comfort whatsoever.
I just got off the phone with Nelson. He got frustrated with me and hung up. The doctor has told him to stop wearing the walking boot, gave him some smaller ankle support and told him to wear a shoe. I am beginning to think that his man may work well with bones but he is not a healing specialist. A surgeon, yes—but he is so blatantly clueless. Well, he did one thing. He moved me out of disappointment to full blown anger.
He’s still concerned with the swelling, but his solution was to write some note to the therapist that he needs to squeeze the fluid out. Having worn a compression hose for 6 weeks after three months of ace wraps didn’t “squeeze” the fluid out. But what do I know?
The only good I can see that is coming out of this is that he wrote a script for 6 more weeks of therapy, Nelson doesn’t have to go back to work before his next appointment (Feb. 2), and supposedly he’s healing nicely.
And now I have to push away from my desk, go back out on the floor and make boxes and act like nothing is wrong. I don’t think I’m that good an actress. I’ll let you know how I did.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
News from Our Corner
I got another present yesterday. It didn’t come from friends or family. It was a gift from work. Since I started working in the factory I have had to wear my vision correcting glasses and then put a pair of safety glasses over them. This was awkward at times and downright painful at others. Two sets of ear pieces digging into the sides of my head. Two pairs of glasses steaming up on hot sweaty summer days.
When I got my new prescription glasses I turned in the paperwork for a pair of prescription safety glasses. My employer provides these. All it cost me was the visit to the optometrist which I was doing anyway.
So yesterday, at the end of the work day, Joy from the front office paged me to let me know that they were in. I was—am so excited. Granted they’re not as attractive as my other glasses, or as lightweight. They have side shields on them and a lined bifocal instead of nifty progressives. But I so don’t care! I don’t have to wear TWO pairs of glasses. And I don’t have to wear my cool prescription glasses—so they won’t get any scratches or other damage as they sit protected in their little snap case during the work day.
It’s going to rain today. I didn’t wash my car to make it rain. I didn’t kill a spider (old wives tale/superstition of my mother) to make it rain. No, what I did was make plans with the daughter to go pick up her new bed and mattress set after work today. I knew it was going to rain because I am becoming a weather vane. My aching toe (from the injury this summer) and draining (more like a deluge) sinuses informed before I ever got out of bed this morning that a rainy day was in store. Lovely.
Getting this bed is important, but it also looks like we should be hurrying to get a crib. Poor Beth has been swelling something awful. At the end of a work day for her, her little toes look like little sausages they’re so swollen. Yesterday at her now weekly check ups the doctor did another ultrasound and has decided that the baby weighs about 6 and a ½ pounds. Things generally pointed to her being in her 35th week, until he measured her belly and it read out at 41 weeks. He also told her she is losing amniotic fluid. Beth has been saying for days that the little guy is wanting to sleep in a crib. We thought it might be wishful thinking, but it looks like he’ll be here much sooner than originally expected. And I for one will not be disappointed!
And one last thing…I thought I had a hot flash last night. Nope. Yesterday the guys the landlord hired to put in the new furnace worked their magic and we have heat. And let me tell you: it works well. I think we can safely turn it down a couple notches…at least at night!
Have a truly wonderful Wednesday!
When I got my new prescription glasses I turned in the paperwork for a pair of prescription safety glasses. My employer provides these. All it cost me was the visit to the optometrist which I was doing anyway.
So yesterday, at the end of the work day, Joy from the front office paged me to let me know that they were in. I was—am so excited. Granted they’re not as attractive as my other glasses, or as lightweight. They have side shields on them and a lined bifocal instead of nifty progressives. But I so don’t care! I don’t have to wear TWO pairs of glasses. And I don’t have to wear my cool prescription glasses—so they won’t get any scratches or other damage as they sit protected in their little snap case during the work day.
It’s going to rain today. I didn’t wash my car to make it rain. I didn’t kill a spider (old wives tale/superstition of my mother) to make it rain. No, what I did was make plans with the daughter to go pick up her new bed and mattress set after work today. I knew it was going to rain because I am becoming a weather vane. My aching toe (from the injury this summer) and draining (more like a deluge) sinuses informed before I ever got out of bed this morning that a rainy day was in store. Lovely.
Getting this bed is important, but it also looks like we should be hurrying to get a crib. Poor Beth has been swelling something awful. At the end of a work day for her, her little toes look like little sausages they’re so swollen. Yesterday at her now weekly check ups the doctor did another ultrasound and has decided that the baby weighs about 6 and a ½ pounds. Things generally pointed to her being in her 35th week, until he measured her belly and it read out at 41 weeks. He also told her she is losing amniotic fluid. Beth has been saying for days that the little guy is wanting to sleep in a crib. We thought it might be wishful thinking, but it looks like he’ll be here much sooner than originally expected. And I for one will not be disappointed!
And one last thing…I thought I had a hot flash last night. Nope. Yesterday the guys the landlord hired to put in the new furnace worked their magic and we have heat. And let me tell you: it works well. I think we can safely turn it down a couple notches…at least at night!
Have a truly wonderful Wednesday!
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