Some resolutions. Ish...

Yes, I know it's the end of March. Like, 3 months too late for some resolutions. But, hey, this is about the time everyone else abandons the ones they made 3 months ago so it's not such a bad thing to start now, right?

This is a big year. A challenging year, if you will. I wasn't planning on any resolutions per se and I never got around to my own 31 for 31 list (I didn't do a 30 for 30 either but then 30 kind of sucked) but there were a few things I wanted to do and the only way to hold myself accountable was to publish them in a public-type place. Like the internets. Not the refrigerator door, not the bathroom mirror--the internets. So, here they are, in no particular order.

1. Make bread from scratch (no cheating with a bread machine)
2. Donate blood at least 4 times this year (can't do more it more than every 8 wks)
3. Try 3 new recipes every month
4. Do some container gardening...maybe some tomatoes, a pepper plant and some herbs?
5. Meet more of our neighbors besides just the couple next door
6. Do some sort of exercise (besides walking the dog) a minimum of 3 times a week
7. Try at least 3 new restaurants on Murphy Street (there's at least 12 and we eat at the same one every time)
8. Work on being more consistent with my tennis game
9. Hang pictures on the walls that do not feature any member of our families
10. Spend Christmas in Hawaii
11. Make this blog more aesthetically appealing (gotta have a stretch goal)

So far, I've given blood once (this morning, in fact) and I tried one of the Thai places on Murphy St. last week for Michael's birthday. Also, I met 2 other neighbors on Friday (Rick who lives across the street and 3 doors down) and Saturday (Paz who lives across the street). Next weekend I hope to buy some plants and begin my container garden. Any recommendations from the gardener extraordinaire? Also, suggestions for recipes and breads are always welcome as are travel tips re: Hawaii.

To my husband on his 37th birthday...


Happy birthday to my:

• biggest supporter

• honey do-er of everything that even remotely involves engineering or any other science or the use of his leatherman

• walker of the dog while I sleep in after a late night studying

• fetch-er of Chipotle when I just can't bear to cook dinner

• giver of awesome foot rubs

• total geek hotness husband

I love you. You're the best.

p.s. you smell like a monkey and you look like one too:>

Try not to lose...

That's commonly heard at my weekly tennis clinic when Mark has us doing drills. He'll put half the class on one side of the net and the other half on the other side and he'll tell us to play competitively and then he'll tell us try not to lose. Which is a different way of saying try to win. And while "try not to lose" and "try to win" are essentially the same thing, you want to win and not losing means winning, it's still a different mindset.

It's actually pretty easy to beat yourself by trying to overpower your opponent and then missing the final shot and giving away the win. Trying not to lose is something I need to work on.

Not really a big deal...

School, school, school. Blah, blah, blah. All the time, right? Yeah, boring. So I won't bore you with the latest and greatest in the land of incontinent older adults, many of whom have dementia and tell you they need to "go bim" even when they're already on the commode and have already gone "bim."

It's about grades and performance this time. This is a highly competitive program and none of us who are in it are "paying customers." You had to have seriously good grades to get in and you have to get better than a C in every class to stay in the program. And the curriculum is difficult not the least of which is due to the fact that this is an accelerated program not an abbreviated one. Yet, I find the work ethic of many of the students appalling.

Every week we have an exam or a quiz or some such thing do and a lot of the students whine about not wanting to study (hey, it's not like I live for studying or anything myself) and then they don't do as well on the exams as they would have liked. And then they commiserate about their grades and inevitably they ask what your grade was and my grade? Almost always an A. Which is good, I know. But, man, have I come to dread the day after the scores are posted and they look at me and my grade is only one of 3 A's in the class and they all got B's and C's. See? Not a big deal but it gets on my nerves after a while.

And on top of that we're doing med administration during our clinicals and that includes everything by mouth, nasogastric tube, topical application and injection (no IV meds until after we graduate) and all the people at my clinical site seem to want to do is jab people with needles. Yes, it's exciting and a little scary especially when you are administering something like heparin or insulin and it requires the signature of 2 RNs before you can give it but, sheesh, there's more to it than that.

There is just so much information to learn and so many things to be on the look out for and I always worry that I'll miss something. Sometimes I worry that my classmates aren't worried enough. Maybe it'll be different in another couple of months after we've all given loads of injections and it starts to become routine. It's like that saying about: what do you call the guy(or gal) who graduates at the bottom of his (or her) medical school class? Doctor. It's the same for us. And I don't know about you, but I want the goddamned valedictorian taking care of me when I'm the hospital.

Why my dog is an asshole...

Most of you have had the distinct pleasure of knowing me when I adopted Shana (maysherestinpeace - that, by the way, is on purpose and anyone up to date on the Terry Pratchett witch series will know that, right?) and will remember that she did horrible, unspeakable things like eat shoes and underwear; steal Thanksgiving turkeys; eat birth control pills; get in the trash (a lot); eat a tube of citrus face wash; eat fireworks and she got sprayed right in the face by a skunk. Oh, and she puked on a boyfriend once. Hee hee!

Normally Esme doesn't give us this kind of trouble but she seems to be channeling Shana's spirit these days and I'm seriously about to ship her off to the monkey house. She's been counter surfing and has pulled down a big loaf of irish bread, eaten half a bag of pizza cheese and one half of a ball of raw pizza dough (that one there cost us $325 in emergency vet bills, god) and on Friday we came home to discover she had managed to open the cabinets where the trash is kept and pulled out the trash can and all of it's contents and spread it throughout the kitchen and living room. She had gone after some chicken fat leftover from cooking off chicken for her behavioral training (might I add that this dog gets to eat organic chicken. Little rotter) that I wrapped in paper towels, wrapped in a plastic bag and placed in the bottom of the trash can. Not only did she eat the chicken fat-covered paper towels but she ate that little absorbent pad thingy from the bottom of the chicken packaging. That thing is wrapped in plastic and I'm pretty sure she ate some of it in the process.

I can't even begin to describe how pissed I was at this dog. Instead of having a date night with my dear husband, we spent the evening mopping the kitchen floor and steam cleaning our living room rug. Then we locked the little bugger in her crate and went out for Indian food and a trip to T@rget. So far she's passed the paper towels and we're keeping a close eye on her for any obstruction but I have to say: it's a good thing she's so cute or I swear I'd have FedEx-ed her back to Sarah, her foster person in Ohio.

'Til death do us part...

A lot of us have said those words as part of our marriage vow and even if you didn't say the actual words, you probably said something like that. And if you haven't said anything resembling those words to another human being yet you're probably planning to at some point.

In the state of CA, it is mandatory that a healthy aging class be taught as part of the nursing school curriculum. One our assignments in this class is to conduct 3 interviews with a community-dwelling older adult, so, someone aged 65+ who still lives in the community (but not in a nursing home). I interviewed Michael's tennis partner who is 69 and let me just tell you that Bob regularly kicks Michael's butt on the court. Also, they're playing at the 3.5 level which is relatively advanced.

During the course of my interview I asked Bob about whether he was married, widowed, divorced, etc. I knew he was living with one of the lady's who is in my tennis clinic and that they reconnected at their 45th high school reunion a while back but that's all I knew. But during the interview I got the scoop and discovered that Bob decided to divorce his wife of 42 years because he felt that he still had too many good years on this earth and wanted to be happy. The details of what precipitated this decision are few but he did mention that they had changed too much and didn't share enough of the same interests anymore.

Just out of curiousity I asked him if, given how long our life expectancy is now, if he thinks it's feasible to be married to the same person for the rest of your life. And he said no. And if it does happen, great, but what a rarity it will be. Being married for more than 10-15 yrs to the same person seems like a rarity these days. But it got me thinking about things. I said those very vows to Michael 3 years ago and I meant them then and I mean them now. But will we feel differently in 40 years? 60 years? We could easily live to be in our 90s and beyond and that is a long, long time of being with the same person.

Do I think Bob is right? Kind of. Marriage takes work and commitment no matter how long you're married but the thought of being divorced in 40 years is mind boggling. Clearly, this is not an issue we need to concern ourselves with right now but it's been on my mind since Saturday. Frankly, the whole thing makes me feel sad. And it's a reminder that you have to take care of your marriage and not let it languish like some half-rotted plant in the yard. But what say you, dear internets? In this age of longevity, is it feasible to be married to the same person until death parts you?

You're just dying to find out...

about the crazy things people stick up their butts, aren't you? We won't be doing a rotation in the ER anytime soon, and that's where those stories originate, but here's another example of something you don't stick up your rear: a dowel rod.

One of today lectures (well, both actually) talked about bowels (yes, again) and disease, etc., and our professor shared a story from his days as an ER nurse. A man came walking into the ER looking as if he just got off a horse, you know, crab walking. That's your first sign that something is not right. So, they do an xray and discover that he put a wax-coated dowel rod up his bum and it got sucked up into his large intestine. When that happens it often requires surgical removal. This is very much like the guy many of you heard about who stuck a big vibrator (including the testicle part) up his bum and he used a fork (yes, a fork) up there to dislodge it. In case you were wondering, the distal end of your GI tract has 2 sphincters and once you get something past your internal anal sphincter, well, it's gone. It's called the point of no return, people, so you better be damned sure that you don't stick anything up there that you can't get out. This also goes back to my own personal theory that your rectum/anus is in "out" hole not an "in" hole but that's just me. If you don't subscribe to that theory, that's cool, just practice good hygiene and never, ever use analeeze. You can hurt yourself without realizing it due to it's anesthetic effects.

Anyway, both patients required surgery and a temporary colectomy while the bowel healed. That means that they close off part of your bowel and then create a new anus by connecting the bowel to a hole in your abdomen thus giving you a place for excrement to, um, excrete. You attach a colostomy bag to the stoma (that's what the artificial anus thing is called) to collect your excrement until your bowel is healed and is then surgically sewn back together. Often this is a temporary arrangement but sometimes it is permanent in cases like colon cancer, etc.

So, my other theory is that no one wants a colectomy and there are ways to prevent needing one unless you get cancer but, hey, that's what sigmoidoscopies are for, right? And lots of fiber, but I digress. I think it should be a requirement that there should be a brief lecture during high school health class on sticking things up your bum. If you do it and something gets "lost", you should just take yourself to the ER right away and not try dislodging the item with a fork and, really, if you're going to stick something up your bum, make sure you can get it back out. Then there needs to be a talk about thorough cleanliness and hand washing. Hee, you can bet that parents don't want me running for school board...

How was it?

Well, the first day on the ward was brief but good. I'll spare you the gory details but the patients we saw included:

1. An agitated bi-polar woman with a tertiary wound and hemovac drain. She was in pain and unhappy and not very nice. But then, if I were in pain, I might not be very nice either. She was mean to all the nurses including the wound specialist. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see her wound.

2. A homeless man with a femur and tibial fracture who didn't smell so good. Also, he was still in his clothes and not a hospital gown. He wasn't wearing underwear. Don't ask me how I know that. I asked the nurse how he hurt himself but she didn't know. She says that when the homeless come to the hospital they've usually been hit by a car. That makes me sad.

3. An older gentleman who had recently had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy (gallbladder removal). We almost got to observe the insertion of a foley cath on him but then he went and voided 4 oz of urine and the nurse decided he didn't need one inserted just then. Good for the patient but unfortunate for us.

4. Another older gentleman who was post-op for the removal of a melanoma and a partial parotidectomy. He was vomiting a bit and still fuzzy from anesthesia. Melanoma, ewww.

On Monday we got to hear about the experiences that some of the other students had. Some of them were on an oncology ward and most of their patients were not long for this world. A number of the students were caring for dementia patients. 2 students were working with a patient who died during their shift so they did post-mortem care (they wash the deceased's face and hands, do a quick shave of the face--basically they make them presentable for family). All in all, lots of different things to see and experience.

Also, there was more paperwork. Big surprise, I know. And the handwashing thing? Well, some were more lax about it than others. All I can tell you is that when you are in a clinical setting, your provider, be it nurse, doc, respiratory therapist, etc., should wash with soap and water or use alcohol gel when she comes into the room and leaves the room. If you are ever at the doctor's office or the hospital and they don't wash please, for your own sake, ask them to do so.

More soon!

First day! On the ward!

There have been many times that I've thought about taking down this blog. I usually don't have anything important to say and when I look back thru the archives (not often because, well, I sound like an idiot which brings me back to my point) I am amazed at how ridiculous I sound. I'm certainly not trying to find a cure for cancer or bring about world peace here. But I also know that if I take it down I'll never write in a journal either. I had a number of empty journals laying around because I could't bring myself to write in them. They have since gone to Goodwill where someone else can buy them and keep them around the house to gather dust. But somehow this blog seems like a reasonable medium to jot down some thoughts because sometimes people come over here to read what I have to say. And by people I mean Michael.

But I digress. Today is one of those days where I think it's important to make a note of what I was thinking. Today is going to be our first day of our first clinical rotation. Yesterday doesn't count because we filled out about a million pages of paperwork and took a tour of our new home for the next 9 weeks. But today. Today. Today is the day. And can I just tell you that I am scared out of my mind? They are going to let us do things to people and we are going to try not to kill them. I imagine that med students feel a little like this, too.

Of course we'll start of easy with checking of vital signs and all that but still. What if I look at someone wrong and he keels over? It's not like we're left on the ward by ourselves, certainly not. Our supervisor will be with us the whole time and yet it's scary. Our instructors have spent the last 6 weeks drilling ethics and protocol and liability into our heads because those things are very important but now we're about to put that stuff plus actual nursing skills into practice. This is scary. Very sick people are going to let us take their vitals, help them ambulate, help them use the bathroom, give them bed baths, give them meds and, just maybe, put in a few foley catheters and nasogastric tubes. !!!!!!!!!

So, dear internets, I tell you how scared shitless I am right now but when I go to the hospital today I will exude total confidence to the patients in my care. I will be friendly and will try not to let my hands shake nervously. I will wash my hands a lot and will hope they won't feel too clammy and cold. I will be careful and deliberate in my movements and will strive to be gentle when I have to adjust equipment or parts of the body. I already cut and filed my fingernails and removed my wedding rings and I'll remember not to wear perfume. Okay, deep breath. Wish me luck.

Justice?

Lately, you've heard about poop and shipping unused-but-in-perfectly-good-condition medical supplies so you've got the warm fuzzies right about now, right? Prepare yourself for a little downer...

The drunk driver who killed my aunt last year just 2 weeks after her 58th birthday was supposed to go to trial this week. Since then, the prosecutor, victim's advocate and my 3 cousins agreed to accept a plea bargain involving 10 years in prison and charges of DUI blah-dee blah but nothing about involuntary manslaughter. The judge has approved this so I guess this man, Travis Day is his name, is headed back to prison to serve out his 10 years.

No one asked me for my opinion, and it's irrelevant really, but it feels like justice has not been properly served here. I don't know all the reasons for accepting this proposal and I am not close with my cousins (regrettably) so I'm not in regular contact enough to find out what they're thinking but I'm thinking that this is not right. This man, by his own reckless actions, killed an innocent woman and he gets 10 years in jail and that's it? How is that okay?

Right now I could care less about overcrowded jails and long court proceedings and what would have happened if the jury let him off anyway--I care about justice and I just not feeling any right now. It's not like this reckless, drunk, repeat offender is someone who slid through an icy intersection and just, by accident, killed someone. No, he got drunk, drove on a suspended license and then rear-ended my aunt pushing her car into the way of oncoming traffic. The volunteer fire personnel on the scene told my mom that they were sure she died instantly. Small comfort, tho, for my mom, my grandmother, my other aunt and uncle, my cousins, their children and my aunt's significant other. Did I mention that her dog that was with her in the car was also killed?

Accidents happen, I get it. But while I'm sure he didn't wake up on December 27, 2007 intending to kill someone, he nevertheless got drunk and got behind the wheel. He caused an accident that could have been avoided. 10 years doesn't seem like a long enough time to pay for his crime. Is this guy sitting in jail feeling remorse for what he did? Does he even care that he killed someone?

Waste not, want not...

I don't know about you, but I really don't like to waste things. I try to recycle or repurpose stuff as much as possible and that means bringing home banana peels and plastic clamshell takeout containers to compost and recycle. I scrape out every last bit of peanut butter out of the jar and I will save 1 Tbs of milk just to use it the next day in my coffee. Yes, I am that person. I hate wasting things. And on occasion when I do I feel horribly guilty about it.

During the last 5 weeks, we have talked a lot about medical and surgical asepsis (clean vs. sterile) and that means going thru a lot of single-use products like gloves, syringes, cannulas, dressings, IV tubing, catheters, etc. In America, the land of plenty, there are often plenty of health care supplies around and manufacturers are getting rich off of the single-use products they supply because we want everything to be as clean and/or sterile as much as possible. And asepis is very important, I don't want to diminish that (some of you will recall that I sprayed Lys0l on the dishes before eating off them during a vacation to OCMD), but that approach to asepsis comes at a cost to our environment and our wallets.

Meanwhile, in underdeveloped countries and even some very rural portions of our own country, there are people who are reusing syringes and tubing by boiling them in water and sharpening the needles on a strap. Gloves are washed and reused until they're riddled with holes and then the fingertips are cut off and they're used for wound drainage in lieu of tubing. Often there aren't enough dressings to go around and wounds are left open to the air. In America, once a prepackaged sterile surgical set is opened it is no longer sterile so any remaining unused items are discarded in the trash. The wastefulness is outrageous.

Today, in lieu of going to lab, we went to MedShare. MedShare specializes in collecting medical supplies and equipment from area hospitals in GA and CA and ships them to underdeveloped countries all over the world. They also fund medical missions. An online database of the supplies they have on hand is kept and governments, aid groups, etc. can request a shipping container of the items they need for the discounted price of about $20K-22K, supplies which are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. They only collect usable items that work (it's not a dumping ground for broken equipment) and their warehouse is full of hospital beds, walkers, crutches, lights, drapes, dressings, syringes, respiratory equipment, etc. You name it, they probably have it. They get so much stuff and this is from only a very small number of hospitals. I think they told us that in the 10 years of their existence they have kept over 1 million cubic feet of medical waste out of landfills. Really, it is amazing. Their overhead is very low; they are getting more support from health organizations by the day; they're being good stewards to those in developing countries while being good stewards to the environment.

So, for those of you who have made charitable giving and/or involvement a goal for the year, I invite you to send a little something to MedShare. I plan to give a little money and a little time. At the very least I hope you'll visit their website.

It seems like it's all about feces...

If you can't tell by the title that this post is about to err on the side of gross, well, you've been warned.

Ah, yes, poop. My favorite topic of conversation. So, for the benefit of those of you who are doomed to listen to me bitch about how tough this program is (you know, the one I so desperately wanted to get into) and for the rest of you who might be interested in what goes on in a nursing program, well, it can be summed up in one word: poop. Or feces. Or excrement. You decide which word you prefer.

So much of what I'm learning is about poop. It's about other things too like liability (scary!), teaching (fun!) , administering medication (also scary!), bathing (sometimes I'll get to delegate that one), assessment and diagnosis (nursing not medical) and, yes, toileting. And, yes, the poop.

The poop tells you so many things about a person's health status but also about their level of mobility. Even a perfectly innocuous discussion about pressure ulcers ends up with some chit chat about wanting to clean up diarrhea before it gets near the wound dressings. See? Poop. (Also, exudate and other perfectly nasty stuff involving pressure ulcers). Or, narcotics for post-surgical patients slows peristalsis and frequently results in constipation. Let's talk about how we treat constipation (also, you don't even want to know about fecal impaction and digital removal). During a health assessment, auscultate, palpate and percuss the abdomen and be sure to ask about the frequency and quality of bowel movements. Truly, we talk about poop at least 3 times a day 5 days a week.

Clinical rotations are going to be assigned next week. We'll be spending 10 weeks in a post-acute setting and will be spending a lot of time helping patients ambulate and assisting with self-care, toileting, etc. and I understand that poop will play a prominent role during this assignment. I assure you there will be more to share than just poop talk so stay tuned.

I know I talk a lot about poop but please know that nursing is so much more than bodily functions. Consider this:

The unique function of the nurse is to assist the individual, sick or well, in the performance of those activities contributing to health or its recovery (or to peaceful death) that he would perform unaided if he had the necessary strength, will or knowledge. And to do this in such a way as to help him gain independence as rapidly as possible.

-Virginia Henderson, 1966

Procrastination...

I'm supposed to be editing my 3-page paper written in APA format that absolutely cannot be more than 3 pages but requires ridiculous requests of 1.5 left and right margins, paragraph headers and Times New Roman 12 pt font (which I hate, by the way) and cannot get myself motivated to do it. I wrote it on Sunday...and I think I'm just tired of looking at it but I know my professor is going to ding me if it isn't perfect (duh). I can't bring myself to care.

This has not been a good week so far and it's only Tuesday. The dog is being a pain in the ass and refusing to pee (she's also counter surfing and required a $300 visit to the emergency vet for x-rays to make sure everything she ate came back up), Michael and I are in the Land of Miscommunication, I have a ton of reading to do and I'm not getting enough sleep at night. So instead of finishing the essay, reading any of my books, calling Pam for an appointment to deal with Esme's misbehavior or sleeping, I'm surfing the internets and am in total denial about everything. Also, even tho it's not as cold as where all of you are, it's cold enough that my hands are too cold to type without making a million typos. I feel like I need something to help me clear my head and get back on track. I've tried exercise and yoga. I've baked cookies. I've had a beer. Nothing works. Maybe a bubble bath? A vacation? A million dollars? A game of Sn00d?

Ausculation, Palpation and Percussion, oh, my!

As Michael likes to point out I am 4% closer to my BSN as of last Friday. As you can see by the title of this post I am up to my eyeballs in all things health assessment related. It's exciting, fun, scary and amazing all at once.

I know it's been ages since I last posted but I've been busy, blah, blah, blah, right? Aren't we all busy? And depressed about the economy. But happy about the inauguration. And needing more sleep. But trying out yummy new recipes.

So, I'm 2 weeks into my nursing program and it is BUSY. Lots of reading, lots of time spent in class and lab, lots of time at home reading some more. It's really interesting and it's all stuff I need to know (duh) but it comes at you at such a rapid fire pace that it's hard to stay on top of it. We'll start our hospital rotations in 3 weeks. No word yet on where we'll be placed for the first one. I hope it's somewhere a little closer to home.

Michael and I are settling in to the new routine. I think the dog is just glad when we leave the house in the morning so she can go sleep on our bed all day. My scrubs arrived as have my shoes. My loan finally got processed just in time to do taxes and submit a 2009/2010 FAFSA. My stethi arrived and I've managed to avoid spilling coffee all over my white scrubs. Did I mention that they are white? As in head-to-toe white?

That's about it. If any of you lived closer I would force you to let me practice health assessments on you and ask about your bowel movements and whether or not you wear sunscreen on a regular basis. Then I would check your pulse and listen to your lungs. See what you're missing?!? That and some 68 degree weather (which is warmer than normal at this time of year but I'll take it).

Hope you're all staying warm and have your glasses raised in honor of our new president. Cheers!

Meh...

What can I say that won't sound whiny and...well, whiny? Things here are fine--just the usual, every day stuff that we do but I'm not feeling all happy and stress-free (psst. I really want to feel happy and stress-free) and, well, it's getting me down. But then the economy is in the toilet, lots of people are unemployed or soon-to-be-unemployed or under-employed (my mom, for one) and lots of things are sucky for so many people. And here I am about to quit my job and take on some more student loan debt so that when I finish nursing school in a year I might not find a good job any time soon. Or a job that doesn't involve some hellish commute. Blarg, blarg, blarg.


So, enough bitching about that. There's nothing terribly wrong but nothing feels right. The holidays were weird this year since it's the first time in 6 years that I didn't go back to Lancaster for Thanksgiving. The weather is warm here (60's or so) so it doesn't feel holiday-ish. And I miss my friends. Living here on the west coast takes some getting used to and it's nice here but we're still adjusting. And I wish it were closer to the east coast but that can't be helped. One of the good things about living here is that the produce at the farmer's markets continues to be absolutely fantastic. I can still get strawberries. In December. And they're good. Not as good as in the summer but pretty darned tasty. And now grapes are in season and they taste so, so good. Better than any grapes I've ever eaten. There are pomegranates, oranges, apples and apple cider, autumnal veg and interesting things like persimmons which I can't seem to develop a taste for. And I'm only just now wearing a pseudo-winter coat.

All I can say is that I'm really looking forward to the trip to Lanky-town this weekend! This truly will be my last trip until 2011. That sounds weird to say. 2011. Anyway, there you have it. Guess I better stock up on hugs, apple butter from Market and wehani rice from Weaver's, a sandwich from I's and leisurely morning coffee on the back porch at my dad's.

Harder than it looks...

These are the red wigglers we bought for vermicomposting from the "Worm Dude."

(not an advert for USPS)

here they come!

worms? veg scraps?

These are the worms now...

Yeah, those are shriveled up dead little worms all over our back porch. About 2/3 of them committed mass suicide about 2 weeks ago and the remaining 1/3 offed themselves earlier this week. Both times this happened it was after a day's rain. We were feeding them all kinds of yummy veggie scraps and egg shells but then we'd come outside to discover they crawled out of their worm bin and died. What the hell? Vermicomposting is supposed to be super easy and a no-brainer and yet we killed our worms. Boo. But check out this new piece of awesomeness that now graces our backyard:

you know you want one

THE BEST WEDDING ANNIVERSARY PRESENT EVER!!!!!!!!!!!

WWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, OBAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MUST USE ALL CAPS!!!!!! WOOOOOO!!!

Seriously, this is the BEST anniversary ever. EVER. What could top this? Now, every year we will share our anniversary with the day that the American public pulled its collective heads out of its collective asses and voted for Obama. Life is good.

On edge....

I've been anxiously checking the internets for campaign news for weeks and now we're down to the final 24 hours of this presidential election. I'm hoping the American people do the right thing and vote for Barack Obama. In the meantime I'm anxious, my eye is twitching and I'm supposed to be studying for my final exam of the semester. But I can't concentrate because I'm too busy compulsively checking CNN and Salon.

3 songs...

One day last week I drove to work instead of taking the train and on the way home I was listening to my favorite station: NPR (psst! Have you made a pledge to your local station yet?). The 'California Report" was on and while I don't remember the name of the guy whose story I was listening to, his story goes something like this: because he works for iTunes, he was put in charge of putting together a CD of songs to be played at his aunt's funeral. He talked about what to choose and why and the clash of religious beliefs between family members and what the deceased would have wanted. And then he mentioned the 3 songs he knew he wanted played at his funeral and listeners were invited to submit their 3 songs.

I've been thinking about this for a week now and it's been hard to decide which 3 songs but today's list is as follows: Elton John's "Your Song," Elvis's "Blue Christmas" and Louis Armstrong's "La Vie en Rose." I'm sure tomorrow's list would look different, as would one from next week, next, year, etc. But today, here's my list. What's yours?

Wait-Listed...

I got my letter this week (finally) and found out that I've been wait-listed. I suppose I should be pleased to be wait-listed (I'm 5th out of 10) when 22 people didn't get that option at all. There were 80 applicants for 48 slots for the January cohort and while I'm disappointed that I didn't get in I'm hoping that I'll get accepted for the June cohort. In the meantime, I'll be waiting to hear back from admissions re: whether I should retake the NET (god, I hope not) and resubmit everything or what. It's not like I can make my grades any higher and I know my letters of rec were solid. What's left? Those stupid essays they make you write? Maybe that's why I didn't get in...

Anyway, life goes on and I'll just do what I can do to get in for the June cohort. If I still don't get in then I'll need to consider something else. Blarg. I've been thinking about this since I was a senior in college and felt like I was so close this time. Oh well, it gives me time to paint my living room and dining room and take more tennis lessons and do more cooking. And do more fun stuff with Michael and Esme...maybe a trip to Tahoe? Or Yosemite? And another trip to Sonoma? How about all 3? Lots of fun stuff to do and no homework to hold me back.

What they don't tell you about taking public transportation...

Is that sometimes people purposely or accidentally jump or walk in front of said transportation and get themselves killed. I'm not trying to make light of this because it's a horrible thing. And while it is frustrating to be waiting for the train and wondering why it's late, mostly I'm just thinking about those poor people being killed by an oncoming train. Yesterday's accident was the 2nd one in the past 30 days and the 10th for the year.

I'm sure that most of these deaths are intentional but surely some are accidents...but then I wonder how that is even possible. If you're deaf, you can certainly see the trains and feel the vibration and if you're blind you can hear them and feel the vibration but...I don't know. Are these people zoned out and don't realize what they're doing? I just can't wrap my mind around this. According to C@ltrain spokespeople, at least 5 this year were suicides, 1 was an accident and 2 unknown. No word on the last 2 fatalities.

I realize that things like this happen everywhere but it makes me sad. Sad for those who are killed, sad for their families, sad for the train engineer and conductors and sad for the commuters who try to stop people from going out on the tracks. It's a sad day indeed here in sunny California...

When the only thing that makes you feel better is a bag of Doritos...

That's where I am right now. School has taken over almost every waking moment of my life that is not spent at work, commuting to and from work, bathing, walking the dog and cooking/eating. And still I struggle. Online classes seemed so ideal in some ways and now...not so much. It's the method of testing. In one class, we're told to read 36 chapters and then take a 25-question MC exam in 50 minutes. 36 chapters. Seriously? Now, to be fair, they're not all really long chapters but you can't even ask one question per chapter.

In the other class, we take weekly 10-question MC quizzes and those are better. We don't cover as much material but the questions are still hard. If you're taking an open-book and open-note test then the questions get much trickier. Not fun. It's doable, of course, but I'm not a good test taker within this format so it makes it worse. But now I'm down to the last 3 and 4 weeks of classes. I know I'm looking forward to a little time off between the end of October and the holidays. Then I'll have time for leisurely reading and baking and painting. Did I just say that? Painting? Am I crazy?

Just call me...

Taupe Armageddon. Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! And Michael shall now be known as Axe Diesel.

Go find out what your name would be if the Mooseburger had been your mom.

Feeling sick to my stomach...

All I think about is this damned presidential election. I am most of the way through a brand new bottle of Pepto (seriously? Buy some of their stock b/c we have a long way yet to go) and have been hitting the Tums pretty hard, too. I want to write about the more interesting stuff going on around here, not that there's much of it, but still. I can't. All I can think about is McSame and the Mooseburger. God. Just seeing their faces in the paper or on the internet makes me want to throw up. Forget seeing them on tv--our gov't voucher for the HDTV adapter box thing-y still hasn't arrived and maybe that's not a bad thing. Except that the season premiere of House is Tuesday and I'm dying to see it. I love me some Hugh Laurie...

Anyway, I leave you with a picture of a warthog statue that we encountered during our visit to Sonoma in August.
No, I did not hump it. Don't even ask. There were like, a hundred people there and I was not about to subject myself to public humiliation for your viewing pleasure. You know who you are.

The little red cart makes its debut...

We recently took the little red cart and Esme to the local farmer's market. We have since decided that Esme only gets to go every other week while the little red cart gets to go as often as it wishes.

In other news, things around here are just plain busy. I'm finishing up my second week as a receptionist working for 3 chiropractors (free treatment for me!) and they like me so much they want me to stay thru the end of December. It turns out that finding a PT temp job was a lot harder than I would have thought. Companies either want someone temporarily FT or permanently PT. Anyway, everyone is very nice and it's only 12 mi. from home and it's really close to a Caltrain station. I will start taking the train to work on Monday. The work pays well but it's 30 hrs/week plus transportation time. It's not bad, but more than I wanted to do in combination with school. So far I seem to be making it work.

I'm finishing up the 3rd week of my online classes and they seem to be going pretty well so far but it's definitely different from sitting in the classroom and going to lab. I'm amazed, tho, by how many people seem to squander their opportunity to do well in these classes. Quizzes in one class are open book and open note. They consist of 15 questions and you have 25 min. to answer them. You are told to keep time b/c the computer doesn't do it automatically and either the other students are losing points for going over 25 min or they aren't getting the right answers or a little of both. It's true that these quizzes are a little tricky but if you read the material and took good notes to supplement the powerpoints, you should still do reasonably well. And yet...many of them don't. The thing I don't get is that this particular class is taught by the director of the ABSN program that we've all applied to...not setting a good example, now are we?

But I digress. School is okay but there is a lot of material to cover, mandatory group work (thankfully I have a good group who submits things early so we're always on time) and you don't have the opportunity to sit in a classroom and get a lecture on things like, oh, acid-base balance. Which I struggled with last quarter. But you can call the professors and do online chats and things. I can see how this would be a big problem for people who aren't very self-directed. You'll be please to note that while the school application process was part of the early August shitwich eating issue that all of my stuff got mailed and was received by the school (as far as I can tell, anyway) and now I just wait to find out if I'm accepted. 80 applicants were submitted for the campus I applied to and there are 48 slots. Notice will be given sometime in October so keep your fingers crossed for me.

Lastly, we're just about all unpacked. Or as unpacked as we're going to be. We've got plenty of organizing to do and we still need to purchase a shelving unit for the living room but we seem to be making it work so far. I have pics to post from our "Worst. Shakespeare. Play. EVER." trip including many a "Tree?" pose throughout Sonoma. I'll get to that....sometime...maybe...you know, in October after the fall quarter is over...we'll see...

WTF?!?

3 words: Republicans for Voldemort.

p.s. To my Republican friends: I'm sorry, but we have to agree to disagree on this one. Love you!

It isn't just me...

Hurray for this article in Slate. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one who can't figure out how the hell to do those damn sudoku puzzles and doesn't think crossword puzzles are the bee's knees. Which is probably a good thing or else Michael and I would fight over the puzzle page at the end of the Sunday Times magazine. I'm more than happy to leave crossword puzzling to him and I will carry on with the reading parts. You know, before I fall asleep with my glasses still on and the book splayed open on my chest.

The Neti Pot - Day 1...

Michael and I met our new GP this week at the medical office complex from hell and she was very nice. She recommended we use a neti pot which I already have (thank you, Hefk!) but have not yet used. So, I decided today was the day. Our doctor recommended using it in the shower since it's kind of messy until you get used to it but I didn't want to get in the shower yet (showering before tennis=waste of water) so I followed the directions that came in the box and did it over the sink. And I think I did okay. It didn't really go down the back of my throat which was good but I was not prepared for the resulting drippy nose. I blew my nose a few times after I was done but then it kept dripping. Is it supposed to do that?

In the meantime, I had the fabulous idea to unpack my china (seriously, why the hell did I take this stuff from my mother?) so I could put it in the cabinet (now safely secured with earthquake straps--a topic for another time) and managed to drip all over the glass shelves I was cleaning. Gross, I know. By now, the dripping has stopped but I'm left with a bit of sinus pressure on the left side in both my frontal and nasal sinuses. Is that supposed to happen? How soon does that weird there's-something-liquid-up-my-nose feeling go away?

Great Sexist-pectations...

You know, it's 2008. Not the 1800s, not 1950 but 2008. I know that sexism is alive and well but recently I got smacked upside the head with it. Twice. Not in major, frontline news kinds of ways but the subtle little shitty ways that are so part of everyday life that most people don't even think about them.

The first time was at the bank. Michael and I went in to open new checking and savings accounts and I took the initiative and I told the banker what we wanted. And what did she do? She listed Michael as the primary on our jt checking. Why? Because he's the husband. He's the man and I am the lowly woman who does not get to be listed as the primary on the checking account. And I was so stunned by it that I didn't know what to say. Then she asked me where I worked and when I said I didn't she asked if I was a homemaker. A homemaker? Do people even do that anymore? I am a woman who happens to be a wife who isn't working and that makes me a homemaker? WTF, people?!? Why can't I just be unemployed? Why can't I just be a person who is not currently employed but is looking for a job. Why not ask me if I am a job seeker not a fcking homemaker?

The second time occurs when getting quotes for car and renter's insurance. I called the broker Michael used during grad school and the company with the most competitive quote wants a copy of our marriage certificate because we have different last names and need to prove that we are actually married. Now, this is not the broker's fault. But I did tell her how appallingly sexist this policy is and if the quote weren't so dang competitive, I would have asked for a quote from another company. I wouldn't mind if they applied this policy across to the board. If you insist that all couples provide a copy of their license, then fine. That's fair. But to single out people like us is total crap. And if it weren't for Michael's minor fender bender in the snow last year, I would go somewhere else but we just can't afford it. But, by Ogg, they are going to hear from me.

No more shitwiches...

At least for the time being. So, I realize that my little bloggy post there was cause for concern for some of you--rest assured, things are returning to normal. Many of you were at the wedding and have already heard my tales of woe. For those of you still in the dark, here is the recap:

• Less than 24 hours before closing on the sale of our house, the stupid buyers start freaking out over the crack in the basement that I disclosed in our first contract and had noted that I was taking bids for repair. I had since brought someone in to repair it and he did a damned fine job. However, I did not think to ask for a receipt esp. since I paid in cash. He's an industrial engineer by trade but is retired from that line of business and rehabs houses in the neighborhood now. Great guy. Anyway, butthole buyers keep acting like we're lying and even tho you can see that the concrete in the SE corner is a different color and texture than the rest of the floor, they claim that it wasn't fixed. So our realtor spends the afternoon trying to call in contractors to no avail. Long story short, Michael sends them an email detailing what we had done and includes a diagram. Thurs. am while I am in transit to the east coast the paperwork is signed and we are no longer the owners of that house. I land at O'Hare around lunchtime and treat myself to a cold beer and a sub-optimal portobella sandwich (hey, at least it wasn't a shitwich).
  

• At the same time, I am experiencing extreme frustration with the idiots at Sylvan Learning Ctr in Mt. View. I arranged to have their facility privately proctor my stupid NET exam for nursing school and after dealing with the headache of making said arrangements and taking the test, thought everything was a done deal. I could not have been more wrong. Turns out that somehow the testing company neglected to include the Big Brown return envelope or the idiots at SLC misplaced it when they opened the package. So, I took the test the Friday before last. They call me Wed. am when I am trying to tie up loose ends, finish laundry and pack before my early morning flight on Thurs. They never sent my test back to the testing company for scoring. They wanted me to come bring them a shipping label. I'm confused as to why they aren't using the one that should have been included with the test. The girl I'm talking to is confused. I hang up and call the testing company. The customer service rep says it will be faster if I just go buy a Big Brown envelope and drop it off at the test site. I call back. The girl tells me they have the envelope...they were confused about when I wanted them to mail the test back to the testing company...WTF?!?!? I make the girl promise me that she will personally get in her car and drive the test to the nearest Big Brown Flush it Down drop box or business. I hang up and go back to packing and laundry. I get a call a few hours later from the director of the school of incompetence asking me why I haven't dropped off a mailing envelope for them yet. Seriously? My god, what the fck is going on over there?!? Another long story short, she calls the testing company and gets their UPS shipping acct no. and drops off my test. I get some BS excuse about "I'm really busy...blah, blah, blah." Well, I'm busy, too, and I paid you people $55 to hand me my test and then to take it to fcking UPS after I finished with i. Idiots. SLC is run by incompetent boobs so if you or your future kids needs their services I would consider going somewhere else. Idiots.
  

• So, now the good news. The house sold and after our mortgage, HELOC, realtor and closing fees were paid, the remainder was wired to our checking acct. Woo! Also, I got my test scores Mon. night and they were good enough for the nursing program. I did better on the math section than the reading comp--go figure.
  

• The just plain old news is that I got an email yesterday from the school saying that they have completed the first portion of application review and apps now go forward to the faculty. They have 80 apps for the San Mateo campus and only 48 spots. Keep your fingers crossed that I'm one of the 48. If I don't get into this program I really don't know what to do with myself. I can't keep treading water until I can get in somewhere...sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have stayed in OH until I finished my degree. Blarg. Anyway, no sense worrying about it now. I should hear sometime in October.
  

So, that's it. No more shitwiches for now. At least not this week.

My luncheon with the Universe...

Me: What should I order...hmmmm....the portobella mushroom with goat cheese and roasted red peppers looks yummy...

Universe: No, I think you should order the shit sandwich platter.

Me: Shit sandwich platter? That doesn't sound tasty at all.

Universe: Waiter? This lovely lady here would like to order the shit sandwich platter. Chop, chop!

Me: Universe, what have I done to piss you off?

(Waiter brings platter of shit sandwiches, places platter in front of me)

Universe: Here, Kelly, have a shit sandwich. They sure are delicious, aren't they?

Me: Nom...nom...no, this is terrible! I would really rather have the portobella...

Universe: No, no, this is so much tastier. Here, have another...

Me: Nom...nom...this sucks...nom..nom...could I at least have the lemon curd tartlet for dessert?

Universe: No, you may have the shit tartlet. Eat up!

I guess the cat's outta the bag...

Well, most of you don't know this but the neighbors do...the sale of our house is pending and we close at the end of the week. We've chosen not to discuss this with anyone other than our parents--mostly for superstitious reasons but also because this is so hard. We love our house (although I had some serious moments of intense dislike while prepping it for sale) and our neighborhood and are so sad that we must turn over the keys to new owners. I hope they love our house as much as we do and hope they don't do anything horrible to it like paint the woodwork.

There was a time when we thought we'd live there until Michael retired from the university. But when the tenure process didn't work out and we found ourselves here in CA, we carried on smartly to do what needed to be done. And now that we're (mostly) settled into our new digs and getting used to our new surroundings...I don't know...it's just hard. I wish I could have picked up our house and our neighborhood and moved it here to CA. It's not even that I'm so attached to Dayton...Michael is, but I'm not so much. But I do miss our friends and the familiarity that comes from having lived someplace for a number of years.

What makes it harder is that the buyers have already called the utility companies to transfer the billing and I can't help but feel annoyed that they're doing this when it's not their house yet. I know it's stupid to feel this way but it's our house until they sign on the dotted lines. Our house. I can't believe other people are going to be living in our house...

I think it's good that we live so far away because that gives us the physical distance to lend us the emotional distance we need. We'll always have fond memories of our time there. Admittedly, it's a relief to sell so quickly in this market and to have gotten a good sale price, at that. It's also nice not to have a rent payment plus mortgage payment every month. Still, I can't help but feel sad. I'm really going to miss that house...

p.s. I found the futon hardware--hurray!

It's Christmas in July!

I know I only just packed all these boxes and boxes of stuff from our house in Dayton but opening them this weekend was like having Christmas in July. Ooh! My fiestaware! The coffee pot! Our bed! Our sheets! The clasps for the dog's crate! Whee!

All of the fun-ness was overshadowed a smidge by the occasional discovery of broken or damaged items. Our headboard has an enormous gouge mark in it and a chunk of wood is missing from the face. The mattress is broken. We can sleep on it for now but it will have to be replaced soon-ish because the springs are already poking out of the side of the fabric. The place where we bought it only has locations as far west as OH and WI...I'm just not sure it can be repaired, anyway. Boo. Also, an entire box of coffee cups has to go in the trash. Some of those cups were favorites...the ugly one from LAX that my friend Karen brought me...the pretty blue and white one Gwen's parents bought me when they took me with them to visit Grg her freshman year at Wesleyan...and the funny "disappearing" Bill of Rights mug from my SIL. Boo. I know they're just coffee cups but I love them. Some favorites survived so there's my silver lining.

The furniture is scuffed and lots of things are wobbly. The top of the ship case broke but Michael will have it all fixed by tonight. Oh, and the paint roller extension bar is squashed flat at a pancake. Not a big deal but if I thought it would be squashed beyond repair I would have just given it to my dad. Still can't find the hardware for the futon...we might need to buy new screws and things...All in all, tho, not too bad. The moving company will be hearing from me tomorrow. The headboard and mattress damage is just to great to overlook and losing the futon hardware is just a plain old pain in the arse.

The house is coming together nicely and we're slowly finding places for all of our things. We don't have nearly enough closet space but we're going to hold on to a few of those plastic tubs and will make use of the space saver bags for linens and clothes. The garage has plenty of space and we should be able to park the car in it shortly. We're still sorting out some stuff but I think we can make it all work. But first, I need to empty out the rest of the stuff in the apartment. More pics soon!

Picture time!

This is the dog trying to beat the heat by digging a hole next to this
lovely bush and then laying in it.


Hello, crazy Jurassic Park-looking plant in the backyard!


This is the dog hiding in the rose bushes because I was inside using the vacuum.
She is such a big baby.


This is Michael's "fierce" face. He does "fierce" better than I do.
Of course, nobody's "fierce" is as good as Gwen's.


Guess where we went?

Move in day!

We're (almost) all moved in--yay! The storage unit is empty and our tiny little house is full of our enormous furniture and the garage is chock full of boxes. The BRs are painted, the floors vacuumed and cleaned and now it's time to put the bed and futon together and start unpacking. Sort of. I bought more contact paper this morning and some cleaner for the cabinets in the kitchen and then I can unpack. I was planning to do that this afternoon but I've been waylaid by our house in Dayton.

Got a call from our realtor re: some stuff that needs to be fixed and now I'm scrambling about trying to call some contractors to fix this stuff for us. All I have to say is that it is an absolute bitch trying to sell your house when you don't live in (or near) it. That house is a 100-year-old monkey on our backs...sigh...but now we have a lovely back yard to enjoy! And a large covered porch! And beautiful weather! And boxes to unpack! Did I mention the back yard?

Still painting...

I'm still painting the 2 bedrooms. Actually, I'm only painting one bedroom as the other is fini. I hope. We did a combo of brush and roller on the trim and I felt that yesterday's rolled parts could use a touch up. I finished the windows this morning but will have to see how they look when I go back this afternoon. Still have to do the doors but will attempt that this afternoon. I will post some pics soon.

Tomorrow is furniture move in day so there is a lot to finish before 7:30 am tomorrow. I still need to finish the trim in the master BR and vacuum and mop the floor with some oil soap. Then, we will be ready. The next couple of days involve cleaning the kitchen cabinets (not sure they've been cleaned in the last 10 years) and putting down new contact paper. Then lots and lots and lots of unpacking. Then? We'll be ready for house guests. Who wants to come for a visit?

Pics of the house!

The kitchen. Appliances look fairly new-ish and I like the floor and laminate on the countertops but I'm not a huge fan of the dark cabinets. A fair bit of cabinet space, tho.

The "dining room" if it can be called that. It's more like the other side of the living room. It will easily accommodate our enormous dining room table and that's the important thing.

Sigh. The bathroom. It is tiny. Look at that tiny little midget toilet. This makes me miss our bathrooms in Dayton like you would not believe. This bathroom has been kept clean and there's no icky mold in the grout so all is not lost. Don't like the shower doors but removing them will be a later project.

Just one shot of the backyard. I'm not sure that you can tell that the planters there are resting inside a water garden sans water. The fountain is off to the left...I'm not sure if it's still functional nor am I terribly interested in the maintenance of a water garden and fountain but maybe next year.

Stay tuned; more pics to come!

Tell me I'm crazy...

Because I must be certifiably insane. Despite all the painting/sanding/cleaning/packing/scrubbing/more painting/painting/painting that I did in the 3 months from job offer to move I find myself wanting to paint. I'm crazy, right?

See, we're moving into a rental house and all the walls are white. White. Ick. Admittedly, the crazy 1970's gold patterned wallpaper in the bathroom was really ugly, but they've since painted those walls white and it's okay in the bathroom and even the kitchen but not elsewhere. And they did take down that hideous dark wood paneled wall in the living room but now, you guessed it, the wall is white. But, we're starting small and there won't be any prep work. We're going to paint the 2 bedrooms in Adobe Straw (by Behr but we're going to find an equivalent in Valspar) and after that, we'll consider doing the living room and dining room later on.

I also want to take down the shower doors and replace with a curved shower rod and a cute shower curtain...not sure if we'll do that right away. I would also like a "tall man" toilet like the ones we purchased for our house in Dayton. After that, some nicer window treatments to cover up the ugly vertical and horizontal blinds that are all over the house and spiffing up some of the landscaping out back will be about it. Really. I swear. I know Michael is reading this and shaking his head (hi, honey!) but it'll be worth it. Right?

Wiped Out...

This will be short because, as you can see by the title, I am wiped out. Got back yesterday from bridesmaid/whirlwind to the beach land and am tirreeeeddddd. I'm missing all of you already but am glad to be back. I have a massive "to do" list to tackle but now, I'm going to lay back down on my couch and read my book.

p.s. I realize I was remiss in mentioning Michael now has a blog: Life, Hope and Vittles. He tells the story of our adventures with Cletus much better than I do.

Adventures in Bicycling...

Now that we're Californians and all, we need to do the California thing and ride our bikes everywhere and, for the ladies, be skinny, tan and blonde. Let me tell you right now: I will be neither tan nor blonde. Skinny wouldn't be bad but I don't think that's in the cards. Anyway.

So, this week, I decided that I would ride my bike, along with Michael, to his office and then I would bike home. This is a 10 mile round trip and while it's mostly flat, it involves plenty of pedaling and racing to intersections to make as many lights as possible. And it's been fun so far (and good exercise) but it can be a little scary at times and I'm still working on my bicycle fierceness. One problem is that I don't have a really "good" bike, not that it's a bad bike, but it's not a California bike. It's not a $600 lightweight, no kickstand, cool-looking bike with helpful foot thingies that keep your feet on the pedals. But it'll do. Michael is going to take it to a bike shop this weekend to have the gears adjusted which will help tremendously.

The bigger issue is my lack of fierceness. I need to be more aggressive around cars when I'm riding. This is hard b/c I am convinced that they will run my ass off the street. Most roads around here have designated bike lanes but in CA, there are legal U-turns so this morning I watched a car make a U-turn and nearly mow down the guy in front of me b/c the driver drove right into the bike lane in order to execute his turn. And where there are no bike lanes, I need to be more aggressive about taking up enough space in the road to keep cars from forcing me off the road and into the gutter. And my husband kindly alerted me to the fact that I need to leave plenty of space between me and parked cars in case a driver opens her car door in front of me. I don't fancy myself the star of some video you'd see on those funniest (stupidest) home video shows where some poor guy gets hit in the nuts or, in my case, I go flying off my bike and do a face plant in the street.

This morning's ride was my last for at least 6 days since I'm taking the red eye tonight for Alissa's and Todd's wedding. That'll give me time to work on my fierce (maybe Gwen will help me with my look) so that when I get back I'll be ready.

The downside to CA...

Well, to be honest, there is more than one downside but today it involves the fact that being this far away means that I can't be proximal to my mother when there's trouble in the family. My mom's cousin and step-sister by marriage is dying of cancer and while they weren't terribly close, it's still a sad time. My mom's family has been through a lot of late and I wish I could be with her during these times. But now that I'm out here, I can't just hop in the car and drive East. Boo.

On top of that, we've started looking for an apartment and the cost of living here is enough to induce an anxiety attack. We've discovered that anything that costs less than $1600/month is almost always a crap hole. And, frankly, the older I get, the less likely I am to lower my standards on things like this and I am not living in a crap hole just to save a couple hundred bucks a month. I told my financial planner as much last night. I also told him I'd rather postpone retirement (why yes, we do have a retirement plan and I highly recommend that you get one) by a few more years than live in squalor. Not that we'd ever live in squalor but you know what I mean. So...it looks like something in the $1800 to $2000 range for us. That is a lot of money. A lot. And, yes, I knew it would be like this and the cost of living in most large cities is about the same but still. The sticker shock. It kills me. Boo. I say boo.

My first week...

Well, it's been a bit more relaxing, to say the least. I spend a decent amount of time surfing the 'nets in an effort to take care of business re: the house or trying to find out where the nearest farmers market/CSA/bookstore/T@rget/etc. are located. Now that we've liberated our bike pump and found the helmets, I can ride my bike to all these wonderful places. I'm also looking out for discounts and deals of events and attractions and I am all about using my triple A card and entertainment book for coupons.

In the afternoon I read, walk the dog, cook dinner, write postcards, watch a little f00d network, unpack a box, you know, the usual stuff. Not too strenuous. Until yesterday.

Yesterday I went a little "weekend warrior" on a Tuesday but I didn't do it on purpose. I've been trying to get back into a regular exercise routine now that I no longer have to paint or pack and move heavy boxes around so yesterday I did some circuit training (why didn't I think this one through?) and then walked 4 miles to meet Michael for lunch. We had lunch at this really yummy vegetarian restaurant (sesame eggplant with brown garlic sauce and rice mmmmmm....) and then I picked up my bike from the storage unit and rode it the 4.5 miles home. Then I carried my bike up 2 flights of stairs. Yeah...I'm a smidge sore this morning. And clearly out of shape. Durr.

So, what have we done that's fun and exciting? Well, we went to the alumni event in the city last Thurs and that was fun. I met 2 people who are not just alumni but are from our beloved Lanky-town. One of them had Grg's dad in school. It was nice to chat with people who are from the same little town as you. We took the train in, which was nice, but the trip home took longer since the train stopped at every station. I, of course, fell asleep on the ride home. Can't do that while you're behind the wheel.

Friday, our trailer arrived and I spent the afternoon supervising the movers as they unloaded our stuff into our storage unit. Unfortunately many of our boxes are smooshed and caving in and the stand to our large oval mirror was broken. Until we unpack everything I won't know how much damage has occured but let's hope it isn't too extensive.

Saturday, we did some digging in our storage unit. I found the boxes with our mail, dry goods, clothes and cleaning supplies. We went back on Monday to unearth the tupperware, dish drainer and bike pump and helmets. My socks and underwear? Still MIA. I have one pair of socks that I wash, like, every other day because I refuse to buy more. They're in that damn storage unit somewhere! Along with my sports bras and tennis clothes. Need to find those, too.

Sunday, we didn't make it to Sonoma because there was N@SCAR race and I wasn't about to go anywhere near that. Instead we went into the city and met up with friends. We went to a museum that, alas, we did not enjoy b/c it housed mostly modern art. I don't like modern art. And let me just say that from now on Costa's girlfriends are NOT allowed to pick the museum anymore. Ever. Had I known we were going to be subjected to modern art, I would not have wasted the money on admission. Then we headed down to the Embarcadero and had coffee before heading home to the pooch.

Haven't decided what our plans are for this weekend but now that we have our bikes we'll probably do some exploring around here. We don't have locks yet (they're on order) so we can't really take them into the city yet unless we're not planning to get off of them to do anything fun. I want to check out the farmer's market, maybe visit the fruit stand and go to the library.

I leave you with this photo of a jackaranda tree from the park next to the "compound." They remind me of a purple version of japanese cherry trees and are absolutely gorgeous when they are at their peak of season. In fact, this picture doesn't do it justice. Maybe that's because it isn't a picture of the whole tree. Or because I took it instead of a real photographer.

Finally in Cali...

And it's about darned time! So, my dear husband met me at the airport with a potted hydrangea (while a bouquet of flowers might have been more romantic all of our vases are currently on the moving truck) in one hand and D0ritos in the other...sigh...he's so sweet. Anyway, we headed home to the dog and then took a picnic lunch to the park adjacent to our apartment. Michael made me dinner and kept refilling my champagne glass until I feel asleep, exhausted, at 7:30 before the Simpsons came on tv.

The rest of the week has been pretty relaxing thus far. We got library cards Tuesday night and I brought home 2 books; I'm starting with the book on Queen Elizabeth. Last night we went to an information session at the nursing school I'm applying to. I found out that the deadline for Jan. 1 admission is July 1st and there is not even enough time to submit the app, ask for and receive 2 letters of reference, have transcripts sent or take the standardized test that has become the bane of my existence. Why, oh, why does it have to be this fcking difficult to finish a second undergraduate degree? Why? So, now I will be on track to apply in November for a June 2009 start date. In the meantime, I'm waiting to hear back from someone, anyone for that matter, in the admissions dept so we can sit down and go over my transcripts to ensure that all previous classes and pre-reqs will transfer. Blarg.

Tonight, we are doing something I hope will be more fun. FandM is having an alumni event in downtown San Fran at 5:30 so I'm about to go put on my face and then go meet Michael so we can take the train in. We might be going up to Sonoma this Sunday for wine tasting but we haven't nailed down the details yet. I'm anticipating many fun adventures will ensue and I'll be sure to share them here. In the meantime, here are some photos of my immediate surroundings:

The Str@ight-Turner Compound. There are gates everywhere. Plus this lovely
parking garage thing-y is nice, too.

A fountain next to the S@feway where we shop--pretty, no?

The dog spends much of her day sleeping under the bed. This bed is not "Tall Man Friendly" and therefore is much lower to the ground than the one we own. You should see her trying to crawl in and out from under it. Silly dog.

It's all about the penis...

So, today's lab exam? All about the penis. Mind you, one of the chapters we're covering on our lab and lecture exams is the reproductive system but, seriously, there were way too many penis questions on the lab exam. Penis, penis, penis. Sure, there was an ovary here and a fallopian tube there and a few kidneys but mostly penis. At least that's what it felt like to me.

Okay, back to studying. I'm hanging out at a little, out-of-the-way cafe whose name rhymes with Banera so I can swipe some free WiFi. I'm eating one of those super yummy shortbread cookies and drinking a big cup of coffee and now it is time to end my penis rant and get back to work. On the penis. Okay, to be fair, there's an acid-base system chapter and lymphatics to review as well, but come on...it's all about the penis today.

Comedy of Errors....

Part one million. Seriously. This will be a v. brief recap as I am sitting in my car in the O. District so I can use some of downtown Dayton's free WiFi (which doesn't go as far as our house, WTF is that about?). Let's just put it this way: I thought we would get more than 2 movers to come load the truck and since I only got 2, it took longer than I thought to get everything on the trailer plus the HaulU rental I needed to get stuff over to my in-laws and a local charity. One of the movers cut his head open (he's okay), it takes forever to get everything loaded up, the phone rings off the hook, I can't remember why I went into the garage/basement/upstairs so I keep wandering around the house and finally around 4 in the afternoon I have to call Michael to bail me out.

The HaulU truck needs to be returned by 7 but the stuff hasn't been delivered and I can't leave the house. FIL extraordinaire shows up to take care of that part but in the meantime, the movers can't figure out how to install the bulkhead and then one of them improperly locks the truck (he locked the lock but didn't lock the doors, fck) and I have to call the trailer co. to come fix it. Ultimately, I have to cancel dinner plans with my neighbors, all so I can stay home to take care of getting rental trucks returned and making sure that no one makes off with our stuff until the trailer guy comes over. And I'm dirty and tired and haven't done a bit of studying for my exams tomorrow.

And then, the badness. I was horribly mean to my husband. I was an asshole (sing it with me...A-S-S-H-O-L-E....I'm an asshole....). I have since apologized (of course) but dang, this is hard.

So, now I'm clean and have done some studying. Going to go back home and study some more and maybe get some shut eye for a few hours. I'm going to sleep on the floor in the house b/c I can't bring myself to pay for a hotel room in which I won't really get any sleep and I can't deal with being around people right now...not even my in-laws. I just have to keep my eyes on the prize. In 23 hours I will be done with my last exam and Thurs am I can start driving to Lankytown. Can't wait. Almost there. Almost....there....

For fcking better or worse...

This move...sigh...I know, more whining about moving. I'm even tired of it but, alas, it's my party and I'll whine if I want to.

So, you stand before your officiant and take your marriage vows alongside your beloved and you say them...and you really do mean them. And sometimes life hands you shit sandwiches and down the hatch they go and here you are reflecting on your wedding vows because those vows are the only thing keeping you from reaching your arm out 2500 miles and ripping your husband's head off. And I know that this rough patch is probably not the worst we'll see during what I hope will be decades of marriage but this fcking sucks. SO MUCH.

And I am very, very tired of this situation. I am tired of being the only one in charge. I am tired of being the one who makes the phone calls and arrangements for sub-contractors, movers, glass crating companies, realtors, more sub-contractors and various cleaning companies. And I know that these are things that only I can do b/c I am the one who is here to let people in, take measurements, write checks, etc. and goodness knows that Michael is helping as much as he can. But. These are the things that make me long for my single days in a one-bedroom apt with my dog. I just want to crawl in a hole and never come out. Instead, however, I'm going to drag my ass to the post office, the UH@ul store, the hardware store, G00dwill and the Upscale Resale store to drop off donations and go to the bank. And then come home and pack my ass off. Blarg. Hate everything.

More cuteness...

This about cheering me up as much as it is subjecting you to more pictures of my dog. She is so. Freaking. Cute. Totally.



My husband is also really freaking cute. I mean, he's very studly and hot. Yeah, studly and hot.

So much to do and not enough time...

So....I leave the state I've called home for the last 5+ years in 10 days. 10 days. 10 DAYS! I am so not ready. Physically ready, that is. I've put off the remainder of the packing in part b/c we had an open house yesterday and we wanted it to still be "staged" but now the furious packing must begin. I'm struggling with this b/c I know that I have 2 smallish suitcases out of which I will live until the 15th and I just don't know what I'm going to need and I can't make myself think that far ahead.

In the meantime, I'm trying to say my goodbyes and that's hard to do. We know we won't be coming back to OH any time soon so unless our friends and family come to see us in Cali we won't be seeing anyone for a long time.

And yet I feel a bit anxious to get the heck out of dodge. I just want to be with my husband and my dog and I no longer care much about anything else. I want to get back to some semblance of "normal" and the only way to do that is to be with my beloved and our mutt. But it's only 10 more days. 10 days. That's going to go by quickly.