Vacation

One of the really awesome things about my job is that I get great vacation time. In fact, I get so much great vacation time that I can't seem to use it all. I'm losing a bunch of vacation hours when 2011 comes round. That's alright though. I have attempted to squeeze some things in here. Like Panama!

I went to Panama for the week of Thanksgiving with some wonderful friends. I have no complaints about this trip! It was a true vacation. We sat by the pool and read, then for a change of scenery we walked down the jungle lane to our own beach, then when we got tired of the salt water we walked back up to our pool. We read and read and read--I finished the Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, some smutty beach read that I don't remember the title of, and then the Help. Really great reads! Then we ate, nothing too remarkable but good food.

We did encounter a rainy day that limited our beach sitting, so ventured into El Valle which was an amazing day! We found mud baths, sat in natural hot springs, zip lined through rain forests, over waterfalls...hmm. It was so beautiful!

Here's where vacation is accomplished--I didn't think about work, people, the cold air of Boston, or anything! I forgot it was the end of November, not summer everywhere, I let the sun bake me, I lathered sun screen like it was my job for the week, and all good things!!! It was also just long enough that the last day I did feel like I had my fill and was ready to get back to life. Three weeks later I'm ready to go back to Panama where it's warm. I've decided one of the best sensations is the warm sun massaging your bare shoulders.

Refresh/Redo

I used to work at an adolescent mental health treatment center. I worked in an area designated the CSU...crisis stabilization unit. (I think) This was an area where individuals would go when they broke too many rules, became a danger to themselves or others, or annoyed their unit staff enough that they'd have to leave the "clinical milieu" for some quiet time. Depending on the reason for the person coming to CSU, there would be a plan assigned for each client that would allow them a path back to their regular unit. Often these involved writing assignments. I had to look at many writing assignments. Often some of these teens would be in such a bad mood they would refuse to do the work, or do it in some snarky sarcastic way. I had the distinct privilege of reading and correcting these assignments. When someone didn't do it sincerely or put any thought into it, the rule was to draw a line through the whole thing and write REDO and then give it back. Seems rather stupid now that I'm more educated in this field, but at the time, that was one part of my job.

Lately this has come to my mind quite a bit. There are things that I do that sometimes I mentally grade myself, slash it out and wish I could REDO. Unfortunately there is often no way to redo. Then there are other things that I wish I could REFRESH. Refresh is different than redo. Let me give you some examples:

REDO: conversations with clients, conversations with friends, conversations on dates, (apparently talking is a problem for me), eating rituals during the day, rolling through stop signs in front of cops, snoozing my alarm 5 times too many, sending that text message or midnight email, Sundays.

REFRESH: my closet, the air in my apartment (this weekend anyway), career, budget (start from the beginning), dating options.

I'd love to redo a few things and I'd like a few things refreshed-almost reloaded-with new options and possibilities. So I guess the questions is how to refresh or redo some of these things when I have to live with the way they are now. But wouldn't a giant refresh button be awesome?!! That reminds me of those Staples commercials with the easy button.

But to answer my own question, I think there are always ways we renew our options whether it be in dating or job possibilities or finances. I just often make excuses and get lazy so things stay the same. It takes work, creativity and an adventure to refresh some things. As far as the redo--I guess I could just say really loudly, "REDO" and start over again.

coin purse

I must have been in 1st grade, although I'm not sure. It's the time when you start learning about money. Ditto's for homework with pictures of coins and dollars, my job was to add them up. I have a fuzzy memory of the first time I tried to purchase something. They made a big deal about a school store in my elementary school. This was different from the regular school store. This was a store that the 5th graders would be running for a week that the other grades would be able to visit. It was right before mother's day and it was marketed as a place to possibly find your beloved mother a gift.

I was excited! I negotiated with my own mother how much money I could possibly have so that I could buy her something. I think she gave me a dollar--like I said the memory is fuzzy. I remember a dollar because she made me put it in my coin purse. I get a little grin on my face when I think of my mom talking about a coin purse (and pencil cases, but that's another story for another day). My coin purse was little, pink and had a small zipper to keep the contents safe. I put my little coin purse in my empty purse and went to school. I'd seen my older sister take a purse to school. Finally I had my purse with my coin purse with a dollar for the store!

Our whole class had a scheduled time to visit the store. We went after lunch and had probably 10 minutes to "shop around." I was nervous, clutching my purse. I looked closely at the prices considering what I could afford. There was a mug that I wanted to get for my mother. It was too much money. At a small table I found some containers holding pens, erasers, pencils and other small items. Then I saw it. A glorious, tall, red, glittery/sparkly pen! It swooped around in loops at the top! The pen was less than the dollar I had. I looked at the 5th grade girl across the table and told her I'd like to get the pen. She told me it would be ___ what maybe 90 cents? I took out my coin purse. I remember looking at my dollar, hand shaking a little and saying out loud, "so, I give you this?" The 5th grader snatched up my dollar, gave me my dime and I was done. What a rush!!

I just purchased a car. My first--I want a new car--purchase! I negotiated the financing and everything. I had the same nervous energy of that day in first grade. Is this really going to work? So, I just give you this? Really?

mothers day

Every Mother's Day our family would go to church (because it was Sunday, not because it was Mother's Day) but on Mother's Day I was excited because sometimes my dad would have a corsage for my mother. It would probably be an orchid. The fun little game I'd play would be judging the competition of corsages. Who had them, what did they look like, color, number of flowers, how big it was resting on the woman's chest, important details. There was one woman who was usually the winner. She was Hawaiian and would have huge, beautiful flowers. I doubted there was an actual competition or that anyone else cared, but in my small childish head I considered it. I was concerned that some women didn't get flowers from their families. Were they sad? Somehow I thought that maybe the flower symbolized the woman herself. I wanted my mom's corsage to be beautiful. Today I caught myself wondering about that. It's been so long since I went to church with my mom on Mother's Day. Corsages seem to be dated in my mind, but I secretly hope there are still some people who find themselves sporting massive corsages, one orchid per child birthed, weighing heavily on a mother's chest, partially blocking her vision, and giving her child something to stare at (or destroy-depending on age).

Mother's Day 1990. I was 11 years old. At the age of 12 a child moves out of primary and begins going to youth Sunday School classes. I was a few months away from this awaited day when I would no longer be one of the children. This tough age of trying hard not to be a little kid, seeing the girls a little bit older then me and wanting desperately to fit in with them left me quite conflicted. That Sunday the primary was scheduled to sing for their mothers in sacrament meeting. I did not want to do it. I think I was so tired of being a kid. I wanted to be older or cooler or something. I told my mom I didn't want to go up to sing. Of course this didn't go over well. I don't remember what took place but I do remember finally going up to the front to face the congregation. I couldn't sing. I also couldn't stop crying. I just stood up there and sobbed, taller then everyone, standing on the back row, I couldn't look at my mother.

I wish I could sing a cheesy song to my mom today. My favorite was:

I often go walking in meadows of clover,
and I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over,
Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you.

Oh Mother, I give you my love with each flower
to give forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through;
for if I love blossoms and meadows and walking,
I learn how to love them, dear Mother, from you.

Mom, I'm sorry I didn't sing to you that day.

i wish i could do it more often

Today I wanted to tell a stranger that he smelled really good. I was walking into my building and he was walking on the sidewalk in front of me. I thought it, and I wondered about how often I have thoughts like that and what a different world it would be if I could just say, "Hey, you smell really good! It's nice!" and then skip along my merry way. Don't wait for a response or conversation, just smile and bolt. Let it sizzle.

Had the walk been 30 seconds longer I totally would have. I've done it before. It's just been a while.

A pleasant exchange

I'm not sure what it's like in other cities around the country, but here in Cambridge we have homeless/beggars/pan-handlers/whatever you want to call them, walking around busy intersections of traffic. Many hold signs telling of their woes and circumstances, carry empty Dunkin Donuts cups for their collections, wear heavy coats when it's warm, and trash bags when it's raining. I don't often give them money, I feel like I contribute to their care in other ways, but sometimes I may have some spare change to toss out the window. Often they look sad, unkempt, grumpy and worn.

Today I approached one of these intersections anticipating seeing my window friends. To my delight, one of my friends had a new sign:

If you don't have any change, Just smile.

He walked from car to car, holding the sign up to the windows, waving it back and forth with more energy and vigor than usual, doing a little dance and beaming at the cold hearted, icy Bostonian who couldn't help but smile. It was such a great thing to see. For a second I felt like I was at a Red Sox game. Feeling united somehow with strangers. I smiled at my intersection beggar friend and watched him in my rear view mirror going to the cars behind me. I'm confident he will make more money today.

Mr/Ms

Several people know sad tales of my childhood educational experiences. Today I was thinking about a few teachers/professors/instructors who challenged my experience that all teachers were just horrible and awful. I could seriously tell you stories, but that's not the purpose of this today. It is, instead, to again compliment the unsuspecting.

Mr Simmers was in high school. Sophomore year. Yes you kicked me out of your classroom once or twice, got after me for talking over you, and the like. You were the first teacher I can remember who helped me with my writing. Yours was the first class I ever read something I was assigned to read, A Separate Peace (and yes I cried at the end). You were the first teacher I remember actually talking to me about my work and my experience in your class. You took me on my first fishing trip. You let me skip my foods class and watch the OJ verdict in your classroom my senior year. You weren't my friend, and for that I am grateful. You were my teacher, one of the best I ever had. You were available but also never overly accessible so as to take away my own sense of responsibility for myself and my grades. You didn't provide me a handicap, but let me deal with the consequences of my choices. Thank you.

Mr Somebody was a professor I had my sophomore year in college. It's funny I can't remember you or the name of your class. The reason I include you is because it was in your class that I realized I was smart. Like really smart! Not overly smart or anything, but that I was intelligent and capable!! We read some of the Bahavagad Gita and portions of the Koran and other deeply thought provoking writings that I don't recall. I do recall loving it, thinking about it, having something to say about it, and writing it down. I also remember doing well! There was something about the way you approached that class that motivated me. I wanted to read; I wanted to impress you. I wanted to continue when the class was over. Thank you.

Ms Tohn -- an instructor in grad school. You are a little nutty but in the best possible way. I was always impressed by your passion and compassion for the work you did and the people you worked with. I loved your approach and how it liberated people, often breaking away from traditional therapy which can, at times, actually keep people stuck. I didn't always agree with everything you said, nor were you one I wanted to vocalize my disagreements with in class, but I found that we could always discuss and share ideas when I spoke with you. You were always very respectful of all people, accepting of different ideas and approaches (although some would disagree with me). You helped me finish out grad school, jumping through the necessary hoops and considering so many more options about what I could really do with this degree. Thank you!

It may seem sarcastic, but it's not 2/27

Dear Parking Ticket Fairy,

I have lived in Boston for nearly 4 years now. I have never encountered a profession in which I have been as impressed with the personnel in terms of their dedication, availability,endurance, and vision. More than once I have thought I could outsmart you, get away with disregarding parking rules and regulations. Although I have gotten by at times without incident, more often than not, you have been there to help me understand the importance of orderly parking and public safety. When I have parked in a parking space limited to 2 hours, and I don't get back until it's been 2 hours and 10 minutes, I am AMAZED that my ticket is stamped at 2 minutes past the allotted time. You're dedication is to be admired. When it's snowing, white-out conditions, the parking spaces are filled with plowed snow, it makes no difference to you. You will make sure every loading zone is clear and parking meter valid. Rain or shine, I see you nearby, lurking, waiting for the second my meter runs out. It is impressive.

Today I left my car for three minutes in a loading zone and I saw you leaving the $55 dollar ticket on my windshield. Thank you. Thank you for keeping me on my toes, for keeping me from thinking I can get away with a loading zone pause.

If only your dedication and loyalty to your responsibilities could be mirrored in other professions. Cable people, phone companies, cashiers, professors, employers even--They could all learn from your vision of a better world, with rules and regulations, where no one gets away with ANYTHING.

Thank you.

and lent begins 2/26

Yesterday I desperately wanted to compliment this person aloud but there was no way I could. I have a client. Clearly I cannot disclose any specifics or share any detailed stories (although you know I want to). My first compliment to those in need of my stimulus offering of compliments to a negative, angry world goes to the intensive manipulators.

Many overlook the artful craft that is skillful manipulation. To know how to whine and complain enough, to blame and avoid responsibility just the right way, to invoke others towards feelings of guilt or desperation to help you, to create an atmosphere where one may desire to give you money or a listening ear (which leads to your getting something), to make them think it's their idea and you somehow deserve the offering, or that in anyway the offering will somehow relieve some degree of your pain...

it's masterful really. I get to work with some of the best.

the lent plan

Last year I had a great time writing confessions everyday on my blog for Lent. I like Lent. I'm not a Catholic but I really do like the idea of giving something up or doing something differently. I realize that my lame offering for Lent last year may be seen to others as mockery perhaps but I assure you it is not. My confessions last year really helped me to reflect and be grateful for so many blessings in my life. I take a lot for granted and I'm already excited for my new plan this year. Although there is some silliness to my plan, there actually is some sincerity and interest in making self-improvement.

I was talking with some co-workers the other day about what to do for Lent. One of my co-workers brought up a very good point. For Lent she tries, instead of giving something up, giving back. She seeks out shelters and other programs that she can volunteer a few hours each week. We talked about how this is another way to be reflective on all the capabilities and resources we have and offer it to someone else. Another factor leading to my decision this year was a talk we had in church last Sunday. An institute missionary couple was speaking to us and the Sister was talking about kindness. It was an enjoyable talk and one I've thought about since. One thing she offered was that a compliment withheld is a criticism. Interesting, I thought.

For Lent this year I would like to offer a compliment a day. There are many times, I'm sure, when I am complimentary to others, but this will be something that I plan to put energy into. It's an opportunity to open my eyes, view this interesting world around me and find honest sincere ways to compliment (perhaps when it seems un-compliment-able?) I couldn't help but think about this like my own version of a stimulus package. Some people have gone a long time without compliments, sometimes because they don't deserve them. I will fix this. I am going to saturate my immediate world with kindness and compliments to the undeserving, the ungrateful, and the unsuspecting.

I will also seek out an hour a week to dedicate in some kind of service capacity of which I am not already involved.

new tunes

I recently went back and enjoyed some old posts. I loved Lent last year. That was really hard for me but so much fun!! I think I'll go back to confessions...

I love my roommate. We're an interesting pair because we have a lot of things in common and at the same time a lot of things NOT in common. I think we balance each other pretty well. Nat appreciates music much like I do but our tastes are quite different. Since living with Nat (actually, since knowing Nat) I've gradually added to my music collection. It all started with her making me a Fall Back 2007 mix cd with "popular" songs. She couldn't believe I hadn't heard that Umbrella song. Since then I've found space in my life for some fun music I wasn't too interested in before I met her.

My confession:

My recent additions to my music library include:

Taylor Swift, Kelly Clarkson, and T.I. featuring J.T. (that one song, and no I don't know who or what T.I. is) AND I really like it.

I've also added DCFC latest Narrow Stairs (it's ok) and an old love of mine The Cure's Show (one of the best)

TaDa

Last October my laptop broke. I had an old Toshiba. One day the screen went dark and it was never brought back to life. It was a sad sad day. I remember my roommates family was in town and staying at our house. I walked into the living room and announced the passing of my dear sweet friend. I wasn't angry or frustrated or in despair at all. But I did note a sense of loss, a deep loss. Yet there was calm. One that reminded me of all the wonderful things we had been through together.

I was alright for a while without my laptop. At work I had a computer so I could sit in front of the Internet all I wanted. My ipod was still able to keep me listening to all of my music (although I was definitely concerned about all of my music being lost if that broke). My blackberry kept me updated on any emails I wanted to ignore. When I got home at night there was a new sense of evening hours, not checking emails, not wasting time on facebook, not looking at old pictures, not trying to work after hours. Keep in mind, my roommate has a desktop and a laptop so of course I wasn't completely without mapquest, google, or online emergencies (like that). Other things fell to the side. Blogging for instance, has never been a priority and I forgot all about it. I LOVED being out of the loop of online gossip, battles of wit and show and tell. Of all the things to miss the most I missed my music. I couldn't download or upload anything. Nothing was added to the ipod. CD's were listened to and purchased the old fashioned way (although I admit I still like buying CD's).

Then I switched jobs. All of a sudden I found myself in a new world. One that didn't have me sitting in front of a computer all day. I had to borrow my roommates computer often to check work emails (they couldn't be sent to my phone) and then to keep up on paper work. Gradually my need for a new computer increased. I would try to go into the office where there were laptops to use but were often in demand. If I had my own computer I could sit at home and do all my paper work. That wasn't such a bad idea. I also noticed a lot of new music coming out that I couldn't add to my collection, not to mention the stuff I couldn't find out about because I was stuck in the world of music I already had. Finally my need became urgent.

I just bought a new laptop. It took me a while to suck it up and buy one. Last Tuesday I took home a beautiful new HP whatever laptop. Of course I have my after purchase week of financial remorse as well as MAC remorse. But this feels good. I like it. I have all my music and can add to it. I can't find my pictures yet (I had them but then I think I lost them somewhere--no worries, I'll find them) but slowly I am getting know this new stranger.

What's odd is that I feel torn. I got used to not using my computer. Now that I have this new toy I feel like I should make time for it. I should explore the new updated world of current technology before me.

But I think I want to go read a book.

Home

I'm home for Thanksgiving. I love coming home. There is something so comfortable to me about my house and my family. I realize not everyone feels this way about going home. I used to think everyone did, but within the last few years I've come to understand that not everyone feels so welcome and comfortable at home. My parents have really created a safe house for me. Although I'm almost 40 (one day) I still feel pretty transient in my young professional life. This is still coming home for me.

The only time my parents defied this safe zone was last year. I have a younger sister who still lives at home and she wanted my old bedroom. We have seven different bedrooms in our house. All my siblings are married except my younger sister and I. She could have picked ANY ROOM IN THE HOUSE. She wanted mine. I found out when I went home for a weekend and ran up to my room to dump my belongings. When I opened the door I was shocked to find my room filled with posters and pink and pillows and piles (piles everywhere). I ran downstairs and my mother started apologizing and claiming her own innocence. She never would have let it happen, it was all my dad and my sister. This did feel like a violation. They didn't even set me up a room elsewhere. They just dumped all my stuff in a closet. I haven't bothered setting it up either. Maybe it's because I realize I don't really live there anymore. Perhaps I shouldn't have a room that's mine there. (that's just silly) It's funny to me because it's not a big deal, but it still bothers me. Every time I come home now I can pick from any other room in the house. I want my old one. I still do. And I want all my stuff put back.

But there are a lot of things I still love: the carpet, the fruit bowls, my dad's fake fire that's been glowing in the fire place for 3 years running (of which he is incredibly proud), the trees that surround my house, the hours we are forced to spend removing the leaves, the food--all the food--from the grand slams to the smorgasbord to disappointing soup nights that have now become appreciated, Mormors pleas for more ice cream, the little dog getting yelled at in German, the sound of the dishwasher at night when we're supposed to be asleep, the candles in the window, my dad asking questions he already knows the answers to, singing time, clean up time, movie time,

prayer time.

I think that is one of the greatest things about coming home. I am really thankful for my parents faith and example. They have such a great love of God. I rely on them for a lot of strength and support. I can be really stubborn, there have been many times that I hear my dad call everyone to pray and I roll my eyes and secretly hope that it will be a short one. Even though I may react this way, I also notice that I love it. I love the spirit that's there. This is what is so great about coming home. It like a filter. When I come through the door only the most important things come with me. So much is left outside. When I leave I may pick it right back up again, but for a little while I could relax, rest, trust my parents and trust God.

Costume at work

I couldn't find a good costume, so instead I threw on this crappy wig, some glasses and led my groups. At least people got a good laugh.

New England Fall

This weekend some friends and I ventured into the north to take in beautiful fall in New England. We were a little late in the season, but we hadn't missed everything. I found a farm in New Hampshire that advertised apple picking, wagon rides, corn maze, hot apple cider, apple crisp, pumpkins and just about anything else you'd want. I convinced a few friends to come. We made a few stops along the way. We visited the Old North Bridge and actually listened the little ranger man tell his story of the miraculous way the militia was able to defend their homes. I love American history and all the stories that show just how much of a miracle it was that we were able to free ourselves from the British.

Our perfect fall scene. A blanket of leaves resting on the ground. It was heaven. We also stopped in to see the Groten School. It's only one of the most prestigious prep/boarding schools in the nation. (That's what someone said anyway, I have not done my own research.)

They had a backdrop with hay and corn stalk conveniently set up for us. We had fun with that!

Here we are mesmerized by the ranger. He was a fancy story-teller, that's for sure. I think my favorite part was Amy the boy early American who chopped off the head of an injured British soldier just as the rest of the British army was arriving to the scene. The army looked at Amy marched right past him and instead killed about 300 innocents living in Lexington on their way back to Boston as retaliation. Jaw-dropping story telling!!

Isn't this tree perfect! I love it. This was on the way to the estate sale that turned into crapper farmers sale of really old junk that NO ONE would ever be able to use EVER.

But this truck was pretty sweet and served as another great prop for our adventure. There was no apple picking, but we did hit up the corn maze, and wagon ride, burned our tongues on hot apple cider and shared some pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. One of my friends also made out with a mirror and desk chair from a road side yard sale.

Against all Odds!!

On our first phone call, he noticed I was talking about my meeting with him in front my co-worker. He challenged me enthusiastically to which I responded by saying, "are you yelling at me?"

Once arriving at our first meeting I forgot his name. AND the name of the agency.

I also forgot my resume.

Because I'm so charming they invited me back. I said I'd email my resume the next day.

I forgot his card. I had no email address. I decided to fax it in. Then I discovered his email address. I emailed it also. Overkill?

I went to a staff meeting. Arriving I run into the partner. She says, it's great to see you. You have an impressive resume. I say, really? I'm SO glad you think so!! At the meeting over and over I admitted that I had NO experience. Some how I was able to twist all my many weaknesses into possible strengths. At one point I said out loud, "Am I still talking?"

unsure. I'm not that experienced. I doubt I got it.

The CEO and CFO came to my staff meeting. They reported the tough news that because of HUGE cuts in the state budget, day treatment, employment programs, clubhouses and other programs would be cut out. There was a good chance we would be without jobs in a month.

Awesome. I can move like I always talk about. I am a little concerned though. It's not pleasant.

My new boss calls. He offers me the job. He said the team really liked you. Really!?!? He said I sounded surprised. I told him I just never know how I come across. I also told him about the meeting with the CEO. I asked him when he wanted me to start. He told me to talk to my boss and come up with an agreed upon date. We agreed I'd call him the next day.

I forgot to call.

How is that possible? I forgot to call.

The next morning I called and left him a message (which he apparently didn't receive) because he emailed me and said he thought I was going to call. I emailed him telling him I had left him a message. I got a phone message from him later saying he'd be happy to talk further about my questions. I emailed and said I'd call him when I got out of work.

I forgot to call.

How is that possible? I forgot to call.

How did I get this job?

I got a new job. I start it on the 10th. I'm pretty excited. I hope I can play it cool. Cooler then I have been.

Yikes.

Simple Communciation?

Brought to you by: silly phone survey all about Google's new Goggle feature to prevent drunken emailing. (you can make a setting on your computer for nights and weekends in which you will have to answer simple math questions in a certain amount of time to enable you to send messages.)

This is an interesting concept. The problem: I'm sober and send stupid (really stupid) texts and emails and sometimes chats which I immediately regret. We'll call it impulsivity.

Evidence:

A. A few weeks ago I was hanging out with a friend of mine. It was a fun night, we hadn't spent time together in a while and after he left I felt the need to communicate to him that I enjoyed the night, that I've missed talking with him, that we should do it again soon, blah blah blah... This is what was actually sent from my phone: Gosh, I really missed hanging out you. Not a huge big deal, but unbelievably annoying. How hard is it to simply communicate a thought without screwing it up?

B. This weekend I ran into someone I don't know very well, we see each other so rarely, that when we started to chat and were immediately interrupted, I was quite annoyed and bothered. Later that day I was thinking about how I wanted to talk more, so I looked up his email address and sent him an email. I'm not even sure what I blabbed about but I'm sure I was blabbing. Again, not a huge big deal but annoying.

C. Important thing to know about me: I think I'm pretty funny. Yesterday I sent a text to a friend of mine who recently moved out of state. It said: I think we should go see Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist tonight. He responds with something like, What? you do realize we're in different states/cities/time zones? To which I responded, You have no imagination. Yes I realize that. Last night around 7 I sent another text saying: I'm so sorry I'm not going to make it tonight but lets try again later this week. JUST PLAIN DUMB. But this morning I felt the need to acknowledge it. I was chatting and said: sorry about my obnoxious texts, I'll try not to do that even anymore. Yes. Again, how hard is it to eliminate unnecessary stupid communication or at least communicate an idea or thought simply and easily?

These are just a few examples. I could go on and on and on and on. I don't know if Googles Goggles will help me stop being so dumb and quick to send incomplete unclear messages to people. But maybe an official hand slapper. Someone to stand over me to slap my hand every time I try to send some ridiculous communication that isn't necessary and I'll wish I hadn't in about 5 seconds. Or a buzzer of some kind. I could just tag people in my phone or computer that every time I try to send something I get an electric shock. This way I would only send things that would be worth getting shocked over. So only absolutely necessary communications. Somehow I must be stopped!!!

My Name

I believe I have mentioned it before, but every morning on my way to work I listen to a radio station that has a survey question each day. Often I find them silly and mildly entertaining, and sometimes I find one that actually promotes deeper thoughts. This morning they were talking about how people change their last names when they get married. They started with the example of Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise and how they didn't because they were both established prior to their union. There are many ways people choose to do this, but the question they were asking this morning was along the lines of: should the person who is the LEAST successful in the relationship submit to the success of the other and change their name. I guess asking if the woman is more successful and established, should the man just deal with it and change his name to match hers. So like I said before, silly and mildly entertaining, but today it got me thinking about a few things. Mostly, my own name. (and no this isn't a thoughtful tribute to my ancestors or anything, much more trivial)

When I was born my parents opted not to give me (or my sisters) a middle name. When I asked as a child about not having a middle name they said that when I got married I would take my husbands name and my last name would become my middle name. In a way, this always bothered me. In some way, I got the message that as a girl I shouldn't get a middle name or something and it also made the assumption that inevitably I would be wed. When people would ask me for my full name, I always wished that I had a full name and didn't sound so lame as saying just my name again. Lately this has changed! Mostly because of two of my sisters marriages.

I hate hyphens. I think it's really lame to hyphen your name. Sorry if you love it, I reserve my right to hate it as much as it is your right to do it. When I do get married I hope that we will start our family. Having our family I would like us all to share one name, one that unites us all. I am still myself, unique in my traits and talents and even though I plan to change my last name, I feel no threat to my identity or heritage. (I'm not saying that people who don't change their names feel these things, I am just talking about me...so relax if you feel the need to defend others choices.) That all being said, I really love that I can reserve my current last name as my middle name! My parents are brilliant! I won't have to drop anything! I think of my married sisters names and how beautiful they are. It works. I was talking to a co-worker about this and asked if she would change her name when she gets married. She told me that hyphening was not an option because it would be Lord-Killgoar and she'd have to carry a sword to pull that one off.

Then there are those who just choose to combine names without a hyphen like Clark Donavan. If I can barely write my first name I'm not writing out two last names. It's just not going to happen. What about those who create a blended name for all to share? Claravon? I guess you can if you want to. I think it would depend on what you're working with. Lordgoar I'd vote no. Killord--maybe. What about Brangelina? Blending first names and eliminating last names all together... it just wouldn't work, not feasible.

This leads me to my next tangent. My signature. This is actually where all these thoughts are coming from. The phone survey was about changing your name, I thought about how I'd like to change my signature. Which then led me to when I get married will I change my signature then? Right now I just sign my first initial and then my last name. This mostly came out of laziness. I can't do the scribble thing. It just looks sloppy. If I'm going to sign my name it should read as my name I guess. So when I was in college I just started signing my initial and last name. This was never an issue until I was applying for student aid for grad school. Someone called me and said I hadn't signed the forms correctly and I needed to submit again with my full signature. By that time, my signing was habit. I called them back and said that this was indeed my signature. I sign all documents this way. The person on the phone gave me a hard time but finally accepted my signature. (seriously, you can scribble and make wavy lines and no one says a thing, but an initial and last name was somehow wrong? It just doesn't make sense to me.)

But lately I was thinking that I want to write my name out but I guess I hesitate to change my signature. So thinking about all this I was wondering do I have to get married to change my signature? Probably not, but it's still wildly inconvenient. It will probably stay as it is. I don't know why I don't like it.

Diagnosis Week

My sister declared this week salad lovers week and wanted me to post a salad recipe a day to share with her and whomever else. I really would love to participate in such a thing so here's my FAVORITE salad recipe:

Romain lettuce
cucumber
green peppers
cherry tomato's
feta cheese
avocado

I put it all in a bowl and then I use a Italian Basil dressing. I eat this every other day. It really makes me happy. Sometimes I'll put cooked chicken on it, but that's a rare event. Boring I know, but so basic, good and true. Salad in it's purest form.

Although this week for her is salad lovers week, I will dub my week diagnosis week. It's been amusing to see just how much stuff all happens at once in my life. Why oh why!??!

1. Last week I was at home working on my laptop (working is used very loosely--I mostly recreate, compiling music, "research", watching Arrested Development on hulu.com, and stuff like that). While I was compiling a great new play list the screen started shaking, bouncing up and down very fast, and then it turned a greenish hue and then went dark. I shut the top and put it aside hoping that in the morning it would return to it's normal level of functioning. Of course, I was wrong. It's clear that the computer is still working, it's just the screen that isn't.

I spent some time on the phone yesterday with our pals and the geek squad. Did you know that they'll charge you $70 just to look at your computer? I told them that I knew what the problem was, the screen. The guy said it sounded like the LCD screen or something and that would--judging from the age of my computer, purchased in 2002 a Toshiba--cost me close to $500 to fix and that I should probably get a new one. Then I was wondering about external hard drives. These can range from $80-$120 or so. So how much will it cost me to have them save my data? It depends on how much but possibly $160. Now I don't know what to do. Would they charge me the 70 to talk to me, the 100 for the hard drive and then the 160 to transfer data? And that's not even considering the cost of the new computer.

2. My dear sweet car does a good job. She is a little old and has 123 plus thousand miles. She's a Toyota Corolla and I try to take good care of her because she's helping me out a bunch. The other day I was thinking about how I know there is an oil leek in my car and I was pretty sure that if there was any oil in the car at all, it was probably very little. I decided to do the right thing and take it in. My findings? I need a new oil pan and gasket--maybe $400, but they also decided to tell me I need new front brake pads and new rotors because they were bent--maybe $300. Really? So I'm trying to shop around for that. I can't imagine an oil pan being that expensive. I suggested duct tape, but they weren't amused.

3. Yesterday I couldn't speak. I had a scratchy throat for a few days but the last two days were really bad. I could hardly leave a message for my boss when I called out sick. I love that I don't have to try to sound sick. It was the strangest thing though. I've never had a sore throat like this. I had no other cold symptoms. I felt fine physically except that my throat felt like it was on fire. I hadn't had strep throat since I was really young, so I thought maybe that was it. I spent a lot of time yesterday on the phone changing my PCP, learning that my new PCP wouldn't give me a referral because she wouldn't see me until Nov, my new PCP's secretary is a JERK, my health insurance is a joke, I can't go to a walk in without a referral from my PCP, and my only options were to change my PCP again to someone who could see me that day or go to an ER where my awesome insurance lets me pay $75 for an ER visit but I also have a $500 deductible for lab work. What kind of insurance is that? I HATE our health care system and what I hate even more is that people are making other people purchase this insane insurance that then isn't helpful for them when they actually do get sick. But I don't want to go off on my thoughts of insurance (I just deleted a ton--you're welcome)

So yeah. I guess I have a lot of diagnosing going on. What's wrong, what's the necessary treatment, what do I want as my desired results? For now I will just try to find relaxing activities, you know things that help me distract/avoid the rest of my life. I could probably do that for a while.

The Monitors - Grazing In The Grass

It took me about 40 minutes to find this gem today. Sometimes I get this song stuck in my head but I don't know all the words. I'm working on it for my next kareoke performance.

I hope that this year some people will be willing to perform this with me in a talent show fashion.

Can you dig it?