Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Poking people at work

I'm not one for pissing people off just to piss them off. Like my coworkers, I never try to ruffle feathers. I enjoy being bright, cheery and caring. I enjoy this because that's who I am. I enjoying asking about people's weekends. I enjoy hearing about their kids, motorcycle trips and antiquing. But some coworkers, they are just asking for it.

It's the coworkers who are wound so very, very tight. The ones who places WAY too much emphasis, pour WAY too much energy into things that do not matter.

Like my office mate, the one I share my office with. When I'm not here, she is. And she likes her stuff just so. And she has a lot of stuff in our office. Beanie babies, little farm animal figurines, little glass knick nacks and little dolls everywhere. She's uptight as all get out.

She leaves notes for me like, "Make sure you keep the radio station to where it was set when you leave." or "Could you use another office chair? I can't figure out how to adjust it back to the right height after you've used it."

In other words, she is just asking for it!

So I move things. Subtly. I move a little cow here or a little beanie duck there. I adjust the height of the monitor here or move the blinds there. And when I come back to the office, everything is back where it was. Like a boomerang. Then I sit and wait for a month or two then I start moving stuff again.

It's subtle. It's petty. It's oh so satisfying.

I also like to employ words to poke at people. Like Irregardless. Or lay/lie. Or orientate or unrepentant. Or peppering my speech with local colloquialisms. Eh. Yah der. An so. I enjoy sounding like I'm from Fargo. It irritates people.

I do this because yesterday I had a patient show up drunk. This is not entirely unheard of. But he was very very drunk. And homeless. He is homeless because he refuses to work with our homeless program. Or our alcohol rehabilitation programs. Which are free to him. And we can't force him to do jack because in this country you can be drunk and homeless. It's your right.

So he keeps showing up. Cause he's homeless and our building is warm. And the homeless shelter gets boring I guess. Only this time he was so drunk he pissed himself during group. And we called the police to pick him up. And he ran out of the building. The police lost him. How fast could a drunk homeless man run in 5 degree weather? Fast enough to elude the police I guess. They would continue to look for him they said.

Then, one of my coworkers was heading home some 5 hours later. She was stopped at a stoplight and she looked to her right. She saw him, on the sidewalk, next to a snowbank. Half asleep. She covered him with a blanket from her car and woke him up. And he barked at her. Cause he's still drunk and belligerent. And she called 911 and they picked him up.

And this is my job. These are people I work with.

And if we are going to get through this together, we need to poke at each other once in a while.

An so, irregardless of how you have your beanie babies set up, ima gonna move them.

Monday, December 27, 2010

The world can come and go

The world can come and go

Dip high and swing low

And I see, all I need are these two . . .

My little Igloo babies.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

They really believe in Santa Claus

Last year it was she believes, this year it's both of them.

My daughter believes in Santa. I've tested the waters. Her belief is unflappable. But she is 8. I fear this may be the last year she does believe. It's only a matter of time before some class mate says something. Then she'll ask us. And it will break my heart.

So I savor this year. I hold it so tight. Because this year she believes that Santa comes and brings presents. She also believes in Elves. She leaves little notes and gifts for these elves that live in our house.

They're a cheeky bunch. They'll open her window shade while she sleeps. Or open her dresser drawer after she leaves a room. Those little Elves are so playful . . .

Then my 4 year old son. He believes. Oh how he believes!

Yesterday, he was being naughty at day care. He wouldn't put on his coat for recess. Dropped to the floor and started a fit. Then he was called to the office. There was a phone call for him.

It was Santa!!

Santa said, "Mac . . you need to be a good boy and listen to your teacher. You go put your coat on right away."

Mac said, "OK SANTA!!!" He hung up and tore back to the classroom. Threw on his winter coat and lined up at lightening speed.

It's just so awesome having these little people, seeing the season through their eyes. It just makes everything so magical. So achingly precious. sniff sniff, I love this time of year!

Merry Christmas everyone!!

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Bars are fun to places go to

Went on a wee date Friday night. Just me and the mister. Was lots of fun. Bar are fun places to go. The people watching is fun too. Especially if people are on date. It's really subtle how people date. How they entertain each other with tiny stories. All punctuated with a laugh at the end.

And when I watched this one couple, I could tell the guy was totally into her. He was dressed so nice, all matching and upscale. He was smiling so big. Leaning in. She was a bit more reserved, sipping her wine. Sitting up straight. Small smile. Polite smile.



She reached over and pulled at his scarf. Gave it a solid tug. Her hand lingered. Laughing. Then she touched his watch. I could see him practically explode. Good for them.

And I thought of how nice it was, getting tipsy on homebrewed brews. Watching this couple getting to know each other. Mr. Hall was sitting really close, warming his hand on the small of my back. We weren't talking. We weren't talking because we don't have to. We nuggled closer then I was ready to go home.

I can say I would have but no patience for dating anyone else. Especially in a bar where you have to pay attention. I like the quiet and the nuzzles. I like dating Mr. Hall whose been my husband for almost 10 years. I like how crazy we get away from the kids. Because even though we live together, with these crazy all consuming munchins- sometimes it's like we live on adjacent islands.

"HELLO!!", I'll shout on my island. "How are the coconuts over there? Careful for the surf, it's getting wicked this time of year!"

And he'll yell back, "Hello to you sweetheart! Just finished patching up the boat, I'll be over later tonight to light your campfire."

and indeed he will . . . . :)

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Mr. Hall is a Daddy type genius


Both kids drag butt getting up. Especially the 8 year old girl, Pancake. I use to go in there, about half a dozen times, to rouse her. Then I got her an alarm clock. No good. She sleeps through it.

Mac, the 4 year old boy, is just as hard to get up. He'll just lay there, claiming his legs, arms or blanket is still sleeping. Then we literally remove him from his room. So he just brings his blankie into the hall way and lays back down.

And really, this is very typical. Kids have no sense of time. Their life is just one big snack time to the next. No need to rush, another cracker and juice break is coming right up.

Then there's breakfast itself. They will either endlessly chatter while SLLLLOOOOWWWLLLY eating oatmeal OR fight about who got more. The fighting and the whining. PPFFTT!! They poke each other, or Mac will keep trying to kiss Pancake. Or they fight about who gets the good spoon. THEY ARE FROM THE SAME SET!!! THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SPOONS!! gggaaah!!!

And they only eat about half a bowl each. It's a half eaten mess. And with all the talking and/or fighting Mac has spilled the oatmeal all over the place. Because talking and/or fighting makes him not pay attention.

And lord help the man who doesn't wash the oatmeal dishes right away. It turns into cement!


He wakes Pancake up early, tells her "Better get down there and eat your oatmeal before Mac gets it."

She SPRINGS OUT OF BED. Flings herself towards the oatmeal and eats half a bowl.

When she's done we wake her brother by saying, "Mac, there's oatmeal." He comes down and finishes the rest.

The ONE BOWL is licked clean. Both kids are fed in a timely manner. No fighting, no lallygagging.

It's genius I say!! genius!!

Sunday, December 12, 2010

What condition my condition is in

Thanks for all the kinds words from the last post. I can say this blog is awesome because it makes it so easy to just put it out there and get wonderful words of support. Plus, the act of saying it outloud releases so much uckiness. I do really feel better ladies and gents. I really do. ;)

And now for the weather report.

Something like 16 inches OF HEAVY WET CRAP on Saturday. I shoveled at 6 pm, then at 9 pm, then at 12 am, then at 4 am, then at 7.30 the next day. There is not a bone, tendon or muscle in my back, arms or hands that is not sore and/or throbbing.

"But Mrs. Hall", you say, "do you not have a snowblower?", to which I reply:


And for the next few days it'll all freeze up with an oncoming cold snap. Highs in the single digits people. Gaah. Well, it's all good. Because I have today off. I will keep up my feet, brew some hot chocolate and enjoy some Lebowski.

It's all good. :)

I still don't quite believe that's Kenny Rodgers singing. But, whatevs!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Burned by wild desire

I had a dream the other night. It was like watching a movie of the week. Bette Milder was reunited with her infant son. She had decided to join with her son, her husband and the inlaws and live in duplex. She had had other children, they were older, but, they were well taken care of and she didn't need to go to therm. Somewhere during the dream, I started to morph with the actress and then the story was happening to me.

It was so emotional. I found myself crying in my sleep. I woke up crying.

I worked really heard on trying to figure it out. I believe this dream was sparked by the Fisher Price Nativity set up there. I found that set at Goodwill the other day and gave it to my kids to play with. They love it. They make all sorts of stories up about baby Jesus. That he can fly, that he's from Mars, et cetera. It makes them all curious about Jesus and God. Which is awesome.

So I thought the dream was about my emerging faith. The infant was my faith, in the newborn stages. And the older kids, these were my first, older experiences with faith. Mainly Buddism and Asian philosophy. These were the first brushes with letting a higher power into my life.

However, Buddism was more of a philosophy for me. Not a religion. Not a surrender. Not a belief. And while I will always carry the lessons and tools it gave me, the ways of calming my mind, knowing I am connected to much more then myself. . they are older kids I don't need to take care of anymore.

But then there was this morning. This morning changed my interpretation of the dream a bit. But before this morning, there was last night.


It's been four months of trying to get pregnant. It's starting to wear me down. I realize that it's me and my thoughts wearning me down. Not the process of trying. I am impatient, I am a type A person who acheives goals, I am ovulating and timing things to produce another child. But last night I knew wasn't pregant again. I knew before I officially checked this morning, that the pregnancy test would be negative. I knew it and I sobbed really hard while Mr. Hall held me.

Desire is a burning thing. I am sure that having two miscarriages plays a role here but my body, my mind, my heart and my soul all want to be pregnant. But I'm not, and it hurts like hell.

So my next task it to back up and see where I am causing this hurt. I have to remember there is no way I am in charge of this. No matter how many ovulation sticks, no matter how many cervical checks, I am not in charge of becoming pregnant. We can make love, but God makes life.

And my timeline is not God's.

2 Peter 3:8

But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

Then I hand myself over. Surrender. Say to God that according to his plan, I am exactly where I need to be. And I turn towards Him, embrace his love and grace, letting the hurt dissolve. Letting his love heal.

And I'll pray, and worship and repeat this in my heart when I feel the ebb and flow of hurt. And it's awesome this faith. It is beyond anything I've ever had before.

And the wonder of it is, if this is my faith in it's infancy, what will it be like when it's full grown?


Monday, December 6, 2010

I watched Fellini's 'La Dolce Vita' really, really drunk. And it was blurry fun.

When I was 15 I tore out a picture.
From a library book.
It was a book on film.
This is the photo.

For years I saved that photo.
I loved that imaginary woman up there.
I wowed at her.
I'm 35 now.
I still do a bit.
I finally watched the film she's from.
It's called "La Dolce Vita"
or The Sweet Life.
It's a Fellini Film. I was drunk.
This helped the viewing.
It helped a lot.
Trust me.

I've watched Fellini Films before.
The films appear to be all about one man,
and his many womens.
Here they are, all in one place.

The film is all Italian, smoking
and selfish sexual mores.
No one is more selfish,
or smokes more,
then the lead.
Gawd I miss smoking.

That man up there.
He sleeps with women the entire film.
It's really not that interesting.
And the woman I fell in love with,
she's only in the first half.

I can say this.
I love being a women.
I love the power,
the glory of our boobins.
We exude soft and warm.
Kind and inviting.
Whip smart and giving.
All at the same time.
It's really quite powerful.
Power he couldn't tame.

He ends the film all alone.

I highly recommend this film.
But only with a friend.
And only really, really drunk.


Friday, December 3, 2010

Gone are the crazy days of yore

Image credit

Every day, at work, I talk to women who bring in their lump of coal husbands. These women they say, "FIX HIM!! FIX HIM!!! FIX HIM!!" and I bounce the ball back in his court. Given suggestions here, there and everywhere so he can help himself.

Meanwhile I want to sometimes scream, I want to scream to these women--"Think about what you life could have been if you didn't have this man child, the heavy anchor of a husband. Why did you choose to stay here with him, all crazy and under the thumb this nonsense?" But I don't.

But these women, the wifes/girlfriends of these lumps of coal, I feel for them. I could have very well been one of them. But I didn't. Because I knew that I was NOT GOING TO STRAP ANY MAN TO MY BACK as I climbed the mountain.

Because destiny was calling me . . . and I answered the call . . . and oh what a joy it is ;)

Don't let anyone stop you that claims he loves you.

Take care and have a good weekend all :)

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Stop looking at me like I'm nuts

For those that are new (woo HOO 48 followers!!-you guys rock!!)- I have two kids, Pancake, girl, age 8, Mac, boy, age 4. I recently met with their respective teachers for progress reports.

For the girl, we sat at a table and her teacher pulled out a portfolio. She took 15 minutes with us and talked really fast. She explained that Pancake is above average in most every way. And she was kind of staring at me, gauging my reaction. And looking at me like I'm nuts.

The same thing happened with Mac's teacher. Staring, explaining, waiting for me to say something. Again, looking at me like I'm nuts. I think it was the non-reaction that threw her off.

And, really, I didn't react to the news my kids are doing great. I don't really react because I know my kids, I see them take information in, process it and use it in their lives. They are good learners and developmentally doing great. Most importantly, they have big hearts. And really-I expect nothing less. I am so blessed and thankful for this.

Yet there they were, the teachers, staring at me. Like I'm nuts.

Not sure what that was about. But. It's kind of common for people to react to my calmness. Like at work. People react to me because I am a mental health nurse practitioner. Some people act like I have psychic powers and can read their mind. Some people can get all wiggy around me, all nervous.

For example, I was in the lunch room the other day and this new doctor came in. She always carries 3 full tote bags of crap to work. She talks loudly on a cell phone. She is obtuse at baseline. People like that react to people like me.

So she comes into the lunch room and sees me. She starts dropping f bombs and hurries about. It's jarring and violent. She is pushing her energy around. And I am calm because I don't react. Which makes her energy get bigger and the yammering gets louder. But then she leaves and then I can eat in peace.

Not sure what to make of it. But. I can say this. I like being calm. Calm makes the giggles come out easier. It's funner this way. And that's the way I likes it!

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