March 8, 2010
Monday, 8:05 P.M.
Home
Oh boy, this is going to be one of those nights when I sit here wondering what to write about. Having just spoken with Carol Ann, there is very little new to report. She is extremely tired tonight because she had to go out in the fresh air today to get some documents notarized. There has to be an easier way to get the benefits sick people are entitled to than forcing them to stand in front of a notary and sign a paper. She is weak, she is tired, and she is nauseous. Seems to me there is a market out there for a notary who is aware of the red tape involved in these kinds of things to start a patient advocate business. They could meet with the client at their homes, collect all the information at one shot, then proceed to contact all the powers that be on their behalf. A person like this would be worth their weight in gold to Carol Ann right now. Maybe I have just come up with a new career idea for myself. I'll have to check into what it takes to become a notary.
Well, this is short and sweet, but my mind is numb to blog ideas. I am reading the essay Professor Kinsley assigned tonight, so maybe there will be more to discuss on the morrow.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Don't Go...
March 6, 2010
Saturday, 7:41 P.M.
Home
Funny how things happen. Had it not been for Professor Kinsley's requirement to earn a better grade in this course, I would never have started this blog. Now I am finding it is working as an outlet for the doubts and sadness I am feeling, especially about my buddy, Carol Ann. There is no other place for me to go or person to speak to about these things. I wondered at first what I could possibly write that would be of interest in a blog. Remembering that what I write doesn't really matter much at all makes it easier to pick topics to discuss with myself which is the purpose for which I will now use it. I will now come here to reflect on my own thoughts, no matter how fragmented or scattered. I can lay them out in black and white (or purple and white), pour my confusion and conflicting feelings all over the page where I can sit back, sort them out, and handle them one by one. I am the keeper of my own happiness.
The visit with Carol Ann today was a little emotionally difficult. The girl is sitting there telling me she wants me to have her new TV when she's gone. Then she's asking me if I like this lamp, do I like her porcelain dolls, good God, I don't want to have these kinds of conversations. "I want to have you, Carol Ann!" I want to scream at her! But I don't. I do say, "I don't want to have this conversation, but know that I will treasure whatever you may leave me and I am honored that you feel this way. But I don't want stuff, I don't want anything but to know that this summer I will sit in Carol Ann's backyard, watching the birds at the feeders she always keeps stocked for them, enjoying the beauty of the plants she has lovingly nurtured and enjoy the barbecue she will have going for us when I get there. I want to listen to her go on and on about herself and how good the food is, a quality I used to find very annoying. I want to argue about global warming and her newly found expertise in politics (she now a staunch liberal and I, a pretty strong life long conservative with liberal tendencies). I want to know that we will share music and singing together for a long time to come (she a jazz lover, me more a show tune, ballad kind of girl). I want to cry out, "Don't go Carol Ann, please don't leave me.", but I won't. I won't add that burden to her host of burdens, but my heart and soul will scream it over and over before this is done and my soul will ache for my loss...
Saturday, 7:41 P.M.
Home
Funny how things happen. Had it not been for Professor Kinsley's requirement to earn a better grade in this course, I would never have started this blog. Now I am finding it is working as an outlet for the doubts and sadness I am feeling, especially about my buddy, Carol Ann. There is no other place for me to go or person to speak to about these things. I wondered at first what I could possibly write that would be of interest in a blog. Remembering that what I write doesn't really matter much at all makes it easier to pick topics to discuss with myself which is the purpose for which I will now use it. I will now come here to reflect on my own thoughts, no matter how fragmented or scattered. I can lay them out in black and white (or purple and white), pour my confusion and conflicting feelings all over the page where I can sit back, sort them out, and handle them one by one. I am the keeper of my own happiness.
The visit with Carol Ann today was a little emotionally difficult. The girl is sitting there telling me she wants me to have her new TV when she's gone. Then she's asking me if I like this lamp, do I like her porcelain dolls, good God, I don't want to have these kinds of conversations. "I want to have you, Carol Ann!" I want to scream at her! But I don't. I do say, "I don't want to have this conversation, but know that I will treasure whatever you may leave me and I am honored that you feel this way. But I don't want stuff, I don't want anything but to know that this summer I will sit in Carol Ann's backyard, watching the birds at the feeders she always keeps stocked for them, enjoying the beauty of the plants she has lovingly nurtured and enjoy the barbecue she will have going for us when I get there. I want to listen to her go on and on about herself and how good the food is, a quality I used to find very annoying. I want to argue about global warming and her newly found expertise in politics (she now a staunch liberal and I, a pretty strong life long conservative with liberal tendencies). I want to know that we will share music and singing together for a long time to come (she a jazz lover, me more a show tune, ballad kind of girl). I want to cry out, "Don't go Carol Ann, please don't leave me.", but I won't. I won't add that burden to her host of burdens, but my heart and soul will scream it over and over before this is done and my soul will ache for my loss...
Friday, March 5, 2010
Easy Way Out
March 5, 2010
Friday, 7:51 P.M.
Home
At the first viewing of Zeitgeist, I sat at my computer and, even though I came to it with what I thought was an open mind, my initial reactions were , no, no, no. I took notes, wrote down statements to research, and then got caught up in what they were saying. The thought, to any native born American, that our own government could be involved in such a heinous plot against its own people is just so alien as to be beyond the realm of rationality. Flashbacks of my own words were coming back to me. Never in my mind, back then, did even I think our leaders could be so cold, so calculating, so far reaching in their greed. I had but an nth of an idea.
Not being a stranger to the treacheries of our government, I watched the movie a second time and there were some simple things about it that were the ones that hit home the hardest. I found myself listening and watching, wondering where my brain had gone over those horrific hours, days, weeks, and months as varied reports were released after 9/11/01.
Friday, 7:51 P.M.
Home
At the first viewing of Zeitgeist, I sat at my computer and, even though I came to it with what I thought was an open mind, my initial reactions were , no, no, no. I took notes, wrote down statements to research, and then got caught up in what they were saying. The thought, to any native born American, that our own government could be involved in such a heinous plot against its own people is just so alien as to be beyond the realm of rationality. Flashbacks of my own words were coming back to me. Never in my mind, back then, did even I think our leaders could be so cold, so calculating, so far reaching in their greed. I had but an nth of an idea.
Not being a stranger to the treacheries of our government, I watched the movie a second time and there were some simple things about it that were the ones that hit home the hardest. I found myself listening and watching, wondering where my brain had gone over those horrific hours, days, weeks, and months as varied reports were released after 9/11/01.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Angel
March 4, 2010
Thursday, 10:30 P.M.
Home
Here I was, all set to shut down the computer after four hours of bookkeeping work and eight hours at the day job when I remembered I have a blog to enter! To be honest, for a split second, I considered just letting it go for one night, but this little angel on my shoulder gave the little devil on my shoulder a shove and he fell off. Angel wins.
I had a dog named Angel. She was a shepherd collie mix, we think. Running down the street we lived on, on a beautiful summer evening, she was stopping by every house with people outside it, sweet and friendly and just so damned cute! She was lapping up all the oohs and aahs, relishing in the scratching and petting. Not wearing any collar or tags, it was fairly safe to assume she was a stray with no particular place to go so our neighbors across the street said they would take her in. I would have loved to bring her in to our family, but my husband was adamantly against the idea. Within a half hour, she had escaped the house across the street and made her way back to us. While petting her, I noticed a lot of little bumps on her skin which my sister Gail, who had stopped by, confirmed were ticks. She and I brought this sweetie of a dog into the house and as I held her, Gail removed every tick from her body. Not once did this dog growl or try to break away or nip. As my sister worked I whispered to the dog, "You are such an angel". For the next fifteen years, she remained my Angel. I lost her six years ago and as I sit and write about her all this time later, I miss her snuggling up at my feet.
Thursday, 10:30 P.M.
Home
Here I was, all set to shut down the computer after four hours of bookkeeping work and eight hours at the day job when I remembered I have a blog to enter! To be honest, for a split second, I considered just letting it go for one night, but this little angel on my shoulder gave the little devil on my shoulder a shove and he fell off. Angel wins.
I had a dog named Angel. She was a shepherd collie mix, we think. Running down the street we lived on, on a beautiful summer evening, she was stopping by every house with people outside it, sweet and friendly and just so damned cute! She was lapping up all the oohs and aahs, relishing in the scratching and petting. Not wearing any collar or tags, it was fairly safe to assume she was a stray with no particular place to go so our neighbors across the street said they would take her in. I would have loved to bring her in to our family, but my husband was adamantly against the idea. Within a half hour, she had escaped the house across the street and made her way back to us. While petting her, I noticed a lot of little bumps on her skin which my sister Gail, who had stopped by, confirmed were ticks. She and I brought this sweetie of a dog into the house and as I held her, Gail removed every tick from her body. Not once did this dog growl or try to break away or nip. As my sister worked I whispered to the dog, "You are such an angel". For the next fifteen years, she remained my Angel. I lost her six years ago and as I sit and write about her all this time later, I miss her snuggling up at my feet.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Truth In Advertising
March 3, 2010
Wednesday, 9:30 P.M.
Home
Tomorrow, I am loathe to say, my daughter in law will be forty years old. You can not let a birthday like that go by as if it is like all the others, so I just spent two and a half hours on line trying to find THE perfect bouquet of flowers to send to her at THE most reasonable price. Well I scored on half of it, anyway. The flowers are gorgeous, the 12.99 additional vase is pretty, the price at the end of it all could buy my meals for a month! They lure you in at the beginning with a promise of a rebate for your delivery charge, to be claimed after you place your order. Yeah, nice, I place the order, get my confirmation, click on my rebate button, and get informed that I can get my NEXT order delivered for free! That, my friends, is not my idea of a rebate or truth in advertising and I don't think I'll rush to these people again any time soon. Actually, I think I'll do it the old fashioned way and go to an actual florist shop. My heart really goes out to those romantic guys who so sweetly and thoughtfully send their sweethearts flowers these days. It costs an arm and a leg. As for me, I never turn my nose up at a bouquet from King Kullen!
Carol Ann has not answered her phone today. I called from work this afternoon and when I got no answer, I took heart thinking she may have changed her mind and headed to her chemo session. I left a message telling her I would call later, which I did when I came home from school at around 7 and she still didn't pick up. Here it is two hours later, she hasn't called back and I can't help but be concerned. Maybe she was just so tired after the session that she's sacked out totally oblivious to the fact that I am sitting here so concerned. I hope that's what it is, you know?
Wednesday, 9:30 P.M.
Home
Tomorrow, I am loathe to say, my daughter in law will be forty years old. You can not let a birthday like that go by as if it is like all the others, so I just spent two and a half hours on line trying to find THE perfect bouquet of flowers to send to her at THE most reasonable price. Well I scored on half of it, anyway. The flowers are gorgeous, the 12.99 additional vase is pretty, the price at the end of it all could buy my meals for a month! They lure you in at the beginning with a promise of a rebate for your delivery charge, to be claimed after you place your order. Yeah, nice, I place the order, get my confirmation, click on my rebate button, and get informed that I can get my NEXT order delivered for free! That, my friends, is not my idea of a rebate or truth in advertising and I don't think I'll rush to these people again any time soon. Actually, I think I'll do it the old fashioned way and go to an actual florist shop. My heart really goes out to those romantic guys who so sweetly and thoughtfully send their sweethearts flowers these days. It costs an arm and a leg. As for me, I never turn my nose up at a bouquet from King Kullen!
Carol Ann has not answered her phone today. I called from work this afternoon and when I got no answer, I took heart thinking she may have changed her mind and headed to her chemo session. I left a message telling her I would call later, which I did when I came home from school at around 7 and she still didn't pick up. Here it is two hours later, she hasn't called back and I can't help but be concerned. Maybe she was just so tired after the session that she's sacked out totally oblivious to the fact that I am sitting here so concerned. I hope that's what it is, you know?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Beckoning Couch
March 2, 2010
Tuesday, 10:25 P.M.
Home
There are times, like tonight, when one of the last things I want to do is sit down and write in a blog. My couch is beckoning me like a petulant lover and in it's sweet, comforting embrace is where I long to be. Being the responsible student, though, my beckoning couch will wait for ten more minutes. I guess it isn't going anywhere, very like this entry, now that I think of it!
It's tax time and I spent the evening with my per diem boss putting a rather heavy stack of returns together. I use the term per diem boss on purpose. See it gives me a small sense of power, referring to this part-time arrangement, if I put the boss instead of myself in the role of per diem. That means I can fire him as a boss just as easily as he could fire me as the assistant bookkeeper. I wouldn't do it though. He is a beyond fair guy and it's a pleasure to work for him. If all goes according to plan, and I get this Accounting degree, he will play a large part in the security of my old age, guaranteeing that he can provide me with all the work I will ever need to succeed in my own home based business, affording me the opportunity to say goodbye to the daily grind I have found myself in for the past forty years. Aside from the beckoning couch, what more could a girl want?
Tuesday, 10:25 P.M.
Home
There are times, like tonight, when one of the last things I want to do is sit down and write in a blog. My couch is beckoning me like a petulant lover and in it's sweet, comforting embrace is where I long to be. Being the responsible student, though, my beckoning couch will wait for ten more minutes. I guess it isn't going anywhere, very like this entry, now that I think of it!
It's tax time and I spent the evening with my per diem boss putting a rather heavy stack of returns together. I use the term per diem boss on purpose. See it gives me a small sense of power, referring to this part-time arrangement, if I put the boss instead of myself in the role of per diem. That means I can fire him as a boss just as easily as he could fire me as the assistant bookkeeper. I wouldn't do it though. He is a beyond fair guy and it's a pleasure to work for him. If all goes according to plan, and I get this Accounting degree, he will play a large part in the security of my old age, guaranteeing that he can provide me with all the work I will ever need to succeed in my own home based business, affording me the opportunity to say goodbye to the daily grind I have found myself in for the past forty years. Aside from the beckoning couch, what more could a girl want?
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Perfect Shower
March 1, 2010
Monday, 7:02 P.M.
Home
Living in a basement apartment for the past five and a half years, I'd about given up on ever having a great shower again. No sooner would I get the water pressure and temperature just right than my landpeople upstairs would rinse out a pan, run the dishwasher, do the laundry, flush the toilet, water the lawn, wash the car, or any of a host of other water using activities they find to do from day to day. If, on the slim chance that it was only a few seconds of discomfort, then my phone would ring, it would be important and I would have to cut my evening ministrations short.
Then came tonight and all seems to have been right with the world because I stepped into that shower, set the water pressure and toasty warm temperature and there they stayed! My hair got thoroughly rinsed, all the shaving got done with not a nick, and I basked in the glory of standing under a perfect shower until I was ready, really ready to get out. Aaaah, heaven.
Monday, 7:02 P.M.
Home
Living in a basement apartment for the past five and a half years, I'd about given up on ever having a great shower again. No sooner would I get the water pressure and temperature just right than my landpeople upstairs would rinse out a pan, run the dishwasher, do the laundry, flush the toilet, water the lawn, wash the car, or any of a host of other water using activities they find to do from day to day. If, on the slim chance that it was only a few seconds of discomfort, then my phone would ring, it would be important and I would have to cut my evening ministrations short.
Then came tonight and all seems to have been right with the world because I stepped into that shower, set the water pressure and toasty warm temperature and there they stayed! My hair got thoroughly rinsed, all the shaving got done with not a nick, and I basked in the glory of standing under a perfect shower until I was ready, really ready to get out. Aaaah, heaven.
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