There was a Men at Work episode in which the term, "conversational condom" was used. The gist was that when sending a text or an email, regardless of the content, your ass is covered and no one can get angry as long as you have a smiley face at the end of what you say. Today, I learned that this is indeed true...
Today's PSA: Protect yourself, wrap your conversations in a smiley :-P
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Hospice
My hospice patient passed away last Saturday. I had been seeing her since April. For 4 months I was a part of this woman's life. I entered her home every week and read her favorite book to her, Anne of Green Gables. I listened to her stories, of all the events that made up her life. I got to know her during one of the most vulnerable times in her life and she welcomed me with a smile each time and bid me farewell with a kiss on my hand each time I left.
Hospice is unique that way. Unlike volunteering at a soup kitchen or at your local shelter, you aren't left to wonder about the people you helped. You don't get to imagine that their life took a different turn and they are now out in the world living a full life. In hospice you know the ending. You get that phone call or that email that tells you without any uncertainty that the final chapter in this volume of their existence has been written. There is no wondering...about this life anyway.
But hospice is unique in another way as well, you get to see life and death in all it's glory, pain, and passion. You realize that death, while permanent in someways is merely a thin sheen painted over our eyes. Their memories and their energy live on in everything they did and everyone they knew. From a smile offered to a neighbor to the kind word offered to a weary stranger. Those small moments are our legacy. It is not only through our family and friends that we continue on, but through the seemingly insignificant events thy touch others and inspire them to do the same.
I am deeply touched by Mrs. P and her daughter for welcoming me into their lives and giving me the wonderful gift that was getting to know them and hopefully contributing to their lives. Thank you.
Hospice is unique that way. Unlike volunteering at a soup kitchen or at your local shelter, you aren't left to wonder about the people you helped. You don't get to imagine that their life took a different turn and they are now out in the world living a full life. In hospice you know the ending. You get that phone call or that email that tells you without any uncertainty that the final chapter in this volume of their existence has been written. There is no wondering...about this life anyway.
But hospice is unique in another way as well, you get to see life and death in all it's glory, pain, and passion. You realize that death, while permanent in someways is merely a thin sheen painted over our eyes. Their memories and their energy live on in everything they did and everyone they knew. From a smile offered to a neighbor to the kind word offered to a weary stranger. Those small moments are our legacy. It is not only through our family and friends that we continue on, but through the seemingly insignificant events thy touch others and inspire them to do the same.
I am deeply touched by Mrs. P and her daughter for welcoming me into their lives and giving me the wonderful gift that was getting to know them and hopefully contributing to their lives. Thank you.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Buns of Steel...
Hello my online minions! I know it's been a while since I last blogged...what can I say, life has been busy to say the least. But never fear I am back...for now.
So, I will admit right here and now that I like workout videos. I have The Firm, Taebo, and my latest and greates, The Brazilian Butt Lift. If you aren't familiar with BBL all you need to know is that for $80 you too can have 7 workout videos with the personal trainer of a Victoria's Secret Angel. Like all workout videos, he guarantees that my body is just going to transform by the end of it all. Now I should break here and admit that my body is pretty alright all on it's own (combo of good genes-thanks mom!, good jeans, and working out) so there is never going to be this 150lb weight loss story for me. But still, who doesn't want a perkier ass?
So I ordered the videos and read the recommended schedule and eating guide that came with it. Lets just say following that guide lasted about 2 days... And amazingly my ass did not transform itself into a VS Angel ass in that time. Damn. I am out $80 and stuck with my same old ass. I know it seems silly, but just openning the videos I could feel my ass get tighter and lift. As if a new ass literally comes in every box... Sigh, if only.
You see, the lack of dedication came in when I noticed chocolate and carbs weren't in the plan. Since those two things make up 80% of my spiritual experience (the other 20% is shoes) I knew I was doomed. Who wants to give up garlic bread? Pasta? Double fudge brownie ice cream? It would be like someone telling me I had to wear ugly brown man-sandals with socks for 3 months. No way. Ain't going to happen. No amount of perkie assness will be able to make that ok (the brown sandals/sock or the lack of chocolate and carbs. Both are just wrong).
But the purchase wasn't an entire waste. I still use a few of the workouts... Or at least parts of them. I can usually be found munching on a fudge brownie during the parts of the workout I don't use... But hey, dont I get some points for sticking around and watching those parts at least?
So, I will admit right here and now that I like workout videos. I have The Firm, Taebo, and my latest and greates, The Brazilian Butt Lift. If you aren't familiar with BBL all you need to know is that for $80 you too can have 7 workout videos with the personal trainer of a Victoria's Secret Angel. Like all workout videos, he guarantees that my body is just going to transform by the end of it all. Now I should break here and admit that my body is pretty alright all on it's own (combo of good genes-thanks mom!, good jeans, and working out) so there is never going to be this 150lb weight loss story for me. But still, who doesn't want a perkier ass?
So I ordered the videos and read the recommended schedule and eating guide that came with it. Lets just say following that guide lasted about 2 days... And amazingly my ass did not transform itself into a VS Angel ass in that time. Damn. I am out $80 and stuck with my same old ass. I know it seems silly, but just openning the videos I could feel my ass get tighter and lift. As if a new ass literally comes in every box... Sigh, if only.
You see, the lack of dedication came in when I noticed chocolate and carbs weren't in the plan. Since those two things make up 80% of my spiritual experience (the other 20% is shoes) I knew I was doomed. Who wants to give up garlic bread? Pasta? Double fudge brownie ice cream? It would be like someone telling me I had to wear ugly brown man-sandals with socks for 3 months. No way. Ain't going to happen. No amount of perkie assness will be able to make that ok (the brown sandals/sock or the lack of chocolate and carbs. Both are just wrong).
But the purchase wasn't an entire waste. I still use a few of the workouts... Or at least parts of them. I can usually be found munching on a fudge brownie during the parts of the workout I don't use... But hey, dont I get some points for sticking around and watching those parts at least?
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Swinging and Swingers: Discovering the Difference
So Butt Boy wants to learn country swing and wants me to be the guinea pig. I am all for that, I previously dated a guy who could really dance. Growing up in a rural ranching area, he learned how to do country western swing. And I am not just talking about a dip here and a turn there. I am talking full blown toss-you-up-in-the-air-and-make-you-look awesome-while-doing-absolutely-nothing-except-hanging-on-for-dear-life dancing. It was one of the best things about dating him. So of course now that Butt Boy has expressed an interest I am all in. The only problem: he doesn't want to do lessons.
This is fine and dandy if all he is looking for is to learn a basic moving step. But I want to fly! And that is not something you do without adult supervision. No one needs to be dropped on their head while attempting an Around The World. There is nothing fun about that. So I decided to take the initiative (what else is new?) and look up local dance lessons. I found a few, West Coast Swing this, East Coast Swing that. Then there was the "(*insert city name here*) Swingtime Dance." They even boasted about being the longest running swing dance in the state. So, naturally I thought I had hit gold. But as I read on, I soon found some interesting bits of information, such as, "we do not have the facilities for sexual activity on site," and "Dancing for mature couples." Me being the innocent little flower that I am initially thought these were addressing some issue they had in the past with younger people behaving immaturely at the dances... Oh how naive I am...
Nope, as it turns out they are talking about "dancing" in the biblical way. A full blown Swingers club. As in I will trade you this same-ol' same-ol' penis I have to sleep with every night for that shinny new one you brought with you. Yep, Swingers. Needless to say, I will not be inquiring about their next meet up. When it comes to THAT type of dancing, I am a single partner kinda gal.
So now I am back at square one. Oh well, maybe I will go see Butt Boy and "dance" with him
This is fine and dandy if all he is looking for is to learn a basic moving step. But I want to fly! And that is not something you do without adult supervision. No one needs to be dropped on their head while attempting an Around The World. There is nothing fun about that. So I decided to take the initiative (what else is new?) and look up local dance lessons. I found a few, West Coast Swing this, East Coast Swing that. Then there was the "(*insert city name here*) Swingtime Dance." They even boasted about being the longest running swing dance in the state. So, naturally I thought I had hit gold. But as I read on, I soon found some interesting bits of information, such as, "we do not have the facilities for sexual activity on site," and "Dancing for mature couples." Me being the innocent little flower that I am initially thought these were addressing some issue they had in the past with younger people behaving immaturely at the dances... Oh how naive I am...
Nope, as it turns out they are talking about "dancing" in the biblical way. A full blown Swingers club. As in I will trade you this same-ol' same-ol' penis I have to sleep with every night for that shinny new one you brought with you. Yep, Swingers. Needless to say, I will not be inquiring about their next meet up. When it comes to THAT type of dancing, I am a single partner kinda gal.
So now I am back at square one. Oh well, maybe I will go see Butt Boy and "dance" with him
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Caprese Bites, Doorbells, And Panic Attacks
What do you get when you mix an introvert with an extrovert? A series of bumbling comedic moments you say? Oh, sorry, that is incorrect. The answer we were looking for was, awkwardness on a whole new level of humiliating.
I am not big into socializing (the fact that I blog should have clued you into that). I have a close knit group of friends and family that I love and trust with everything that I am. And that is it. I have no desire for more because truthfully I find anything more to be to exhausting.
Well, Butt Boy is not only an extrovert, he is the worst type of extrovert. He is the extrovert who thinks he is an introvert. I come from a family of introverts (you can find us pretty easily in any social gathering, just look for the ones standing off in the most secluded spot possible, trying to block out the sensation of being over stimulated). I know what an introvert is and what they are not. And let me tell you, an introvert does not throw a party of 40+ people for their birthday. Hell, an introvert probably doesn't know 40 people.
So, Butt Boy threw a birthday party for himself and two friends (who had birthdays right next to his) and invited me to attend. I hemmed and hawed over it before finally deciding, why not? At the very least it could be my new thing for the week. The theme of the party was cheese. Yep, cheese. And thanks to my wonderful sister and her girlfriend who suggested it, I brought with me lovely little stuffed tomato caprese salad bites. I picked out the perfect outfit- comfortable, complimenting, and simple. And I held many a long conversation with my sister and her girlfriend regarding the various social protocols I never was indoctrinated into because I have avoided parties like the plague.
I knew the appropriate amount of food to contribute, the expected small talk conversation starters, and the acceptable amount of non-drinking and eating (because I was beyond anxious). I was ready.
It was right before I left for the party that I realized I had over looked one crucial social protocol debriefing- to knock or not to knock? At what point does a party become big enough that you just walk into the house? You see, as an introvert, no one is allowed to just walk into my house. Not even my most loved and trusted. They better damn well knock on the door that bars the rest of the world away from me. So, since I have no experience with this knocking protocol I was pretty clueless. Obviously if you are the first to arrive you knock, but what if you're the last? Then the party is in full swing and they might not even hear your knock. After a brief conversation it was decided that I should knock, wait, and then if no one answers enter.
So I had the outfit, the food, the social protocols, and even a knocking plan in place. I was ready. I made my way over to the party and as soon as I turned onto the street, my stomach dropped. The street was packed with cars. I could hear the house was loud with voices and I felt bile rise into my throat. The urge to run was overwhelming, but I held fast and walked up to the door. And, as luck would have it, he was outside so I even got to avoid the knocking dilemma.
I can only liken the feeling I had upon entering the house/party as what I would imagine someone walking down death row to their lethal injection would feel. Sheer dread. I was there for no more than 15 minutes (half of which was spent going out to my car for a fake reason) before fleeing like the building was on fire. So just to recap:
I am not big into socializing (the fact that I blog should have clued you into that). I have a close knit group of friends and family that I love and trust with everything that I am. And that is it. I have no desire for more because truthfully I find anything more to be to exhausting.
Well, Butt Boy is not only an extrovert, he is the worst type of extrovert. He is the extrovert who thinks he is an introvert. I come from a family of introverts (you can find us pretty easily in any social gathering, just look for the ones standing off in the most secluded spot possible, trying to block out the sensation of being over stimulated). I know what an introvert is and what they are not. And let me tell you, an introvert does not throw a party of 40+ people for their birthday. Hell, an introvert probably doesn't know 40 people.
So, Butt Boy threw a birthday party for himself and two friends (who had birthdays right next to his) and invited me to attend. I hemmed and hawed over it before finally deciding, why not? At the very least it could be my new thing for the week. The theme of the party was cheese. Yep, cheese. And thanks to my wonderful sister and her girlfriend who suggested it, I brought with me lovely little stuffed tomato caprese salad bites. I picked out the perfect outfit- comfortable, complimenting, and simple. And I held many a long conversation with my sister and her girlfriend regarding the various social protocols I never was indoctrinated into because I have avoided parties like the plague.
I knew the appropriate amount of food to contribute, the expected small talk conversation starters, and the acceptable amount of non-drinking and eating (because I was beyond anxious). I was ready.
It was right before I left for the party that I realized I had over looked one crucial social protocol debriefing- to knock or not to knock? At what point does a party become big enough that you just walk into the house? You see, as an introvert, no one is allowed to just walk into my house. Not even my most loved and trusted. They better damn well knock on the door that bars the rest of the world away from me. So, since I have no experience with this knocking protocol I was pretty clueless. Obviously if you are the first to arrive you knock, but what if you're the last? Then the party is in full swing and they might not even hear your knock. After a brief conversation it was decided that I should knock, wait, and then if no one answers enter.
So I had the outfit, the food, the social protocols, and even a knocking plan in place. I was ready. I made my way over to the party and as soon as I turned onto the street, my stomach dropped. The street was packed with cars. I could hear the house was loud with voices and I felt bile rise into my throat. The urge to run was overwhelming, but I held fast and walked up to the door. And, as luck would have it, he was outside so I even got to avoid the knocking dilemma.
I can only liken the feeling I had upon entering the house/party as what I would imagine someone walking down death row to their lethal injection would feel. Sheer dread. I was there for no more than 15 minutes (half of which was spent going out to my car for a fake reason) before fleeing like the building was on fire. So just to recap:
- $30-$40 for my food contribution
- 1.5 hours of cutting, gutting, and stuffing cherry tomatoes
- 2 hours of social protocol training and outfit determination
- 2 hours of driving (1 hour each way)
- $10 in gas for those trips
- 15 minutes at the party (7 of which was me faking a reason to go to my car)
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Jesus Loves Me, This I Know...
Hummm, where to begin...
Butt-Boy and I are still going out so I guess, considering most of my dating adventures end before the 1 month mark, I could count that as my new thing. But never fear, I have many more stories to regale you with!
I have such a plethora for stories to choose from I am finding it hard to decide... I guess I will go with 2 separate stories:
Story 1- Work+Party+Drinking= Awkward moments with a board member.
So, the organization I work for throws a fundraising party each year in April. This year we revamped everything and it actually turned out pretty darn good! We had live music, food, and the always awesome alcohol (btw- I still haven't finished that bottle of Arbor Mist...). I of course was running around like a crazy woman making sure everything went off with as little hitch as possible. I speed from room to room so often, the security guys knew me by sight within the first 5 minutes.
For the sake of fully understanding the awkward humor of this story I need to break here and let you know that one of our board members is not only a total flirt (in an annoying way) but also looks like Jesus. I mean, he seriously looks like Jesus. Right down to the semi long hair and semi grown in beard...
Anyway back to the story. Because I was working I didn't have anything to drink, however, that did not stop my coworkers (or board members) from partaking. Which is fine and dandy... until you have a board member say he loves you. Que awkward silence and crickets... He said it in a jovial manner, but with just a little to little humor behind it to give the whole exchange a super weird vibe. I just laughed it off and ran off to do more work, but man... talk about overstepping professional boundaries...
Story 2- Finding a Mentor and a Silver Lining
I finally had the opportunity to meet with the physician who has been such an inspiration to me as I search for a way to practice medicine in a humane way. It was truly amazing to see her work. She wasn't scared of her patients. What a novel idea.
I spent 4 hours with her and in that time she saw 3 patients. 3. When I shadowed the orthopedic surgeon, he saw 20 in that same time frame. Sitting in her office, the plush teal carpet beneath my feet and a comfortable over stuffed futon couch at my back, I could see why her patients liked coming here. The scent of nature (wooded incense?) hung lightly in the air and the lighting was a muted yellow that highlighted the large canvass painting of a serene ocean scene. I instantly wondered if my blood pressure would test lower here than at my doctor's office- I always test a little higher than normal when I go to see the doctor because of the anxiety I feel in the doctors office. Something about the smell of sterilized bodily fluids and florescent lighting puts me on edge.
Each patient who met me couldn't say enough good things about Dr. W. They raved about her and stressed the importance of me (and others like me) carrying on her work. They told stories of how they came to be her patient and why it is so imperative that the medical environment be changed.
Patients want this. They want a physician they can talk to as they would a friend. And physicians want this. They want to care about their patients. Yet somehow we continue to go around in this dysfunctional cycle. But after seeing Dr. W, I have hope. Hope that perhaps we are on the cusp of change. Of something big that will bring back the idea that we should treat the whole patient (mind, body, spirit). It will be a revolution that changes how we treat each other and I definitely know which side I am rooting for. :-)
Butt-Boy and I are still going out so I guess, considering most of my dating adventures end before the 1 month mark, I could count that as my new thing. But never fear, I have many more stories to regale you with!
I have such a plethora for stories to choose from I am finding it hard to decide... I guess I will go with 2 separate stories:
Story 1- Work+Party+Drinking= Awkward moments with a board member.
So, the organization I work for throws a fundraising party each year in April. This year we revamped everything and it actually turned out pretty darn good! We had live music, food, and the always awesome alcohol (btw- I still haven't finished that bottle of Arbor Mist...). I of course was running around like a crazy woman making sure everything went off with as little hitch as possible. I speed from room to room so often, the security guys knew me by sight within the first 5 minutes.
For the sake of fully understanding the awkward humor of this story I need to break here and let you know that one of our board members is not only a total flirt (in an annoying way) but also looks like Jesus. I mean, he seriously looks like Jesus. Right down to the semi long hair and semi grown in beard...
Anyway back to the story. Because I was working I didn't have anything to drink, however, that did not stop my coworkers (or board members) from partaking. Which is fine and dandy... until you have a board member say he loves you. Que awkward silence and crickets... He said it in a jovial manner, but with just a little to little humor behind it to give the whole exchange a super weird vibe. I just laughed it off and ran off to do more work, but man... talk about overstepping professional boundaries...
Story 2- Finding a Mentor and a Silver Lining
I finally had the opportunity to meet with the physician who has been such an inspiration to me as I search for a way to practice medicine in a humane way. It was truly amazing to see her work. She wasn't scared of her patients. What a novel idea.
I spent 4 hours with her and in that time she saw 3 patients. 3. When I shadowed the orthopedic surgeon, he saw 20 in that same time frame. Sitting in her office, the plush teal carpet beneath my feet and a comfortable over stuffed futon couch at my back, I could see why her patients liked coming here. The scent of nature (wooded incense?) hung lightly in the air and the lighting was a muted yellow that highlighted the large canvass painting of a serene ocean scene. I instantly wondered if my blood pressure would test lower here than at my doctor's office- I always test a little higher than normal when I go to see the doctor because of the anxiety I feel in the doctors office. Something about the smell of sterilized bodily fluids and florescent lighting puts me on edge.
Each patient who met me couldn't say enough good things about Dr. W. They raved about her and stressed the importance of me (and others like me) carrying on her work. They told stories of how they came to be her patient and why it is so imperative that the medical environment be changed.
Patients want this. They want a physician they can talk to as they would a friend. And physicians want this. They want to care about their patients. Yet somehow we continue to go around in this dysfunctional cycle. But after seeing Dr. W, I have hope. Hope that perhaps we are on the cusp of change. Of something big that will bring back the idea that we should treat the whole patient (mind, body, spirit). It will be a revolution that changes how we treat each other and I definitely know which side I am rooting for. :-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)