WHERE I AM
On my way to the doctor's office I started thinking about where I have ended up in life. Living where I always wanted to. Doing something that I believe in, that I believe basically makes the world a better place, that helps people. Doing something that I enjoy doing that is (almost) always interesting. With people that I can stand, though there is only one person I really consider to be my friend (and she is one of my best friends, someone who agrees with me totally politically, who shares my sense of humor, who had her baby delivered deliberately on my birthday so that he would be 50 years younger than I am, changing his delivery date specifically for that reason). I have great freedom in my work, I get to work on what I want to most of the time. I have tons of time off every year. I have some great, great friends in my life and a really neat social circle, albeit mostly seasonal.
So: when I was in my 20's did I ever think that this is where I would be when I was in my 50's? No, I didn't think about where I would be when I was 50 very much at all. When I was 30 my friend Mary Frances and I used to say that we really enjoyed living alone, being single and having the lives that we had, but would that be enough for us when we were 50? Now I can answer that yes, it's enough. I have what I want. I own my home (I just read that the average cost of a home in America is $176,000 and Americans spend half of their income on housing). I have as many dogs as I want (more than, really). Is this the course I thought my life would take? Honestly? No. But I got to find out what it felt like to be married, and parts of that I enjoyed. I get to be alone a lot, and that is what I really like about my life. I can be with people when and if I want to. I have my friend Ken in my life and he is a great friend and a good person. I'm happy to spend time with him.
So I mentioned this to my surgeon. His reply: "You did all right." See? He's a funny man.
Friday, April 29, 2005
My surgeon is a really funny person. This morning he wanted to know if I had any questions. I told him that, since I'm a librarian I felt obligated to do an Internet search on gallstones and I felt informed enough. So of course he felt obligated to quiz me and show me how uninformed I really am and how wrong the information on the Internet is. I told him he should share his wisdom with the National Library of Medicine. He said the problem with that information is that it's not written by surgeons. OK, he won that round. Anyway, gallstones are really crystallized cholesterol. That I knew. They become symptomatic for some reasons we know and some reasons we don't know. Pregnancy is a reason (not mine). Obesity (probably not mine). Sudden weight loss (maybe mine). I reviewed this yesterday. He also reassured me that he has never had to turn a laparoscopic surgery into an open surgery because of a previous gyno. surgery. Of course, he's never operated on me. But it was very reassuring to talk to him, and I told him I really, really wanted to keep my surgery simple. He said he would do that for me. Then we talked about enjoying solitude and he wanted to know if he could SCUBA dive at Silver Lake. I said the bottom is very murky. Then we talked about the importance of good transcription services, because he called in his dictation of my case to the hospital's service while I was there. He spoke really, really quickly and I commented on it. He said they can slow it down. He said they have a woman who comes in once a week, picks up his tapes from his office, types up the transcripts, drops them off & picks up the next tape, etc. Works out of her home. HEY! I want that job! He said good transcribers are really hard to find. This is maybe what I can do when I retire, work part-time doing this. I like to type and I used to love doing transcription from tapes. No interaction necessary, just you and the machine. Type fast and correct your own errors. Yes, I like the sound of it. Buy myself a medical dictionary and a good computer, work from home.
And now it's back to cataloging Port Henry's metallurgical and mining collection. yawn. ABC of iron and steel. Iron ores of the Clinton formation. Geology of Elizabethtown and Port Henry. But today I can have music on because the woman on the other side of my cubicle is out and no one else can hear it.
AND AND AND today is the last REAL day of the director's career. After this she becomes merely a part-time, interim employee here. And the sun is shining, appropriately. Tomorrow it is not supposed to, after the morning at least. Hopefully I will get out of bed early enough to enjoy some sun and work in my yard a little. This morning I shut off the alarm, thinking "I think it's Saturday and I don't have to go to work so I'll go back to sleep." I woke just after 7 and realized I had to leave for work by 7:20 at the latest. I barely made it and, after stopping at the Cadyville Gulf Station for the mandatory cup of coffee (where the owner always says, "Hi Kiddo!" to me), I was 5 minutes late for work.
I got most of the brunette of my hair cut off last night. It's short, very short. Spiky short, sticks up on top. To my hairdresser's disappointment, I opted out of a perm and instead had it shorn. I decided I don't want hair, I want short, really short. I'd have it shaved if that were socially acceptable. Anyway, she said the coloring I administered myself (always embarrassing to admit you did it yourself to your hairdresser) won't wash out of my hair, I'll have to wait for it to grow out. And why did I do that, anyway? I was bored and I'll never do it again, I swear. I do not look good as a brunette, no I do not. I'm a blonde, even if it's not light blonde, my hair is naturally blonde.
And now it's back to cataloging Port Henry's metallurgical and mining collection. yawn. ABC of iron and steel. Iron ores of the Clinton formation. Geology of Elizabethtown and Port Henry. But today I can have music on because the woman on the other side of my cubicle is out and no one else can hear it.
AND AND AND today is the last REAL day of the director's career. After this she becomes merely a part-time, interim employee here. And the sun is shining, appropriately. Tomorrow it is not supposed to, after the morning at least. Hopefully I will get out of bed early enough to enjoy some sun and work in my yard a little. This morning I shut off the alarm, thinking "I think it's Saturday and I don't have to go to work so I'll go back to sleep." I woke just after 7 and realized I had to leave for work by 7:20 at the latest. I barely made it and, after stopping at the Cadyville Gulf Station for the mandatory cup of coffee (where the owner always says, "Hi Kiddo!" to me), I was 5 minutes late for work.
I got most of the brunette of my hair cut off last night. It's short, very short. Spiky short, sticks up on top. To my hairdresser's disappointment, I opted out of a perm and instead had it shorn. I decided I don't want hair, I want short, really short. I'd have it shaved if that were socially acceptable. Anyway, she said the coloring I administered myself (always embarrassing to admit you did it yourself to your hairdresser) won't wash out of my hair, I'll have to wait for it to grow out. And why did I do that, anyway? I was bored and I'll never do it again, I swear. I do not look good as a brunette, no I do not. I'm a blonde, even if it's not light blonde, my hair is naturally blonde.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
What a week it's been so far. The most boring week in the history of my career--and that's a loooong history. I became a librarian in 1977. For some reason everyone in the place has the same complaint. Maybe it's the weather (cloudy, rainy, gloomy but at least fairly warm). Maybe it's because the director is retiring tomorrow but announced yesterday that the board has asked her to serve as interim director until they hire a replacement (I must have been a very bad child and am being punished for it now). She will only work 2-3 days a week and her duties will be limited. They asked other people to do it but no one was interested. Rats! My heart hit the floor. Lub-dub lub-dub. These are the times that try [wo]men's souls. We had a big luncheon celebration yesterday, everyone brought some delicious food (except for the spaghetti part). We all felt rather foolish, since she'll be back on May 13th. I'll never be rid of this woman, she's like a booger you try to flick off your finger.
So work is not as stimulating as it might be. I'm cataloging and even that doesn't rock my world. I did discards as a pleasant diversion and that was boring. I can't bring myself to do weeding because I'm in the Holiday Collection and from there I go to the Professional Collection and puh-leeeeeeze! I can't bring myself to read book reviews because I just ordered $4000 worth of new books that are about to be wheeled over to my desk for my review before going out on the bookmobile (I hope they come before Weds., when I start my week off for gallbladder land).
I went for a tour of the hospital library today. The director came to me at 10:02 this morning and asked if I'd go in her place (I forgot to register myself). The tour started at 10. I was happy to go, had meant to go anyway, so it was good but it was long and I had to stand for 2 hours and wore the wrong glasses so couldn't see anything. It reminded me that I hadn't done any research on gallstones or the proposed laparoscopic surgery yet. We had a nice lunch in the cafeteria there, courtesy of the grant that's paying for these tours ("It's your special day, have dessert."). I sat with our former director, the man who hired me 20 years ago, who desperately wanted to be the Interim Director after M retires tomorrow. Apparently the board did NOT ask him. Anyway, after a demonstration of lots of medical data bases and websites I came back to work and looked up gallstones--causes of, removal of, types of, etc. Interesting. I feel like a much better patient now. Rapid weight loss can be a culprit. Maybe the 40 pounds I lost in 2003 caused their formation. High cholesterol can be a culprit, since these are most likely made up of crystallized cholesterol. Too little fat in my diet, or skipping too many meals can be a problem, as that will cause your gallbladder not to contract enough, storing the cholesterol in it and turning the chol. into stones. Isn't information a wonderful thing?
As for the surgery, now I'm more concerned that mine might be "open" surgery due to previous abdominal surgeries I've had, which may have caused scarring that would prevent use of the instruments necessary for laparoscopic surgery. But I always have to have something to worry about. And my internist already warned me to be ready to spend the night in the hospital. But I'm not planning to, I'm really counting on outpatient surgery, going home a few hours later. Come on, let's not worry about things we can't control. What will happen will happen so let's assume the best.
And still it rains here. Tomorrow may be sunny but the weekend most likely will not. This will be a good thing, since I need to clean my house in prep. of visits from my book group. We read The kite runner. What a good book. I also want to clean my bedroom, and have actually started that process. I must go to the dump. I must spray the huge philodendron with insecticidal soap again--that takes about an hour and requires putting a towel on the wood floor and squatting in uncomfortable positions to reach all 30 huge fronds and leaves.
Last night I cleaned the fish bowl, including rinsing off the plants and gravel. I put the guppies in a pan while I cleaned their house. When I put them back in the bowl they were thrilled and haven't stopped swimming very, very quickly all around the place. I yelled at them "Come on! It wasn't THAT bad," when they said that at last they could see where they were going. How those fish do go on.
Tonight is the first night I don't have any obligations after work. I can go home, walk the dogs if I want to (will I want to?), but will be there at a reasonable hour. I have to figure out what to cook for book group on Sunday and I have to get wine for Sunday dinner. Since the IRS doubled my tax return I have no money worries for the time being. I bought a bookcase at Lowe's last week. I need to assemble it. I can do that! I know how!
So work is not as stimulating as it might be. I'm cataloging and even that doesn't rock my world. I did discards as a pleasant diversion and that was boring. I can't bring myself to do weeding because I'm in the Holiday Collection and from there I go to the Professional Collection and puh-leeeeeeze! I can't bring myself to read book reviews because I just ordered $4000 worth of new books that are about to be wheeled over to my desk for my review before going out on the bookmobile (I hope they come before Weds., when I start my week off for gallbladder land).
I went for a tour of the hospital library today. The director came to me at 10:02 this morning and asked if I'd go in her place (I forgot to register myself). The tour started at 10. I was happy to go, had meant to go anyway, so it was good but it was long and I had to stand for 2 hours and wore the wrong glasses so couldn't see anything. It reminded me that I hadn't done any research on gallstones or the proposed laparoscopic surgery yet. We had a nice lunch in the cafeteria there, courtesy of the grant that's paying for these tours ("It's your special day, have dessert."). I sat with our former director, the man who hired me 20 years ago, who desperately wanted to be the Interim Director after M retires tomorrow. Apparently the board did NOT ask him. Anyway, after a demonstration of lots of medical data bases and websites I came back to work and looked up gallstones--causes of, removal of, types of, etc. Interesting. I feel like a much better patient now. Rapid weight loss can be a culprit. Maybe the 40 pounds I lost in 2003 caused their formation. High cholesterol can be a culprit, since these are most likely made up of crystallized cholesterol. Too little fat in my diet, or skipping too many meals can be a problem, as that will cause your gallbladder not to contract enough, storing the cholesterol in it and turning the chol. into stones. Isn't information a wonderful thing?
As for the surgery, now I'm more concerned that mine might be "open" surgery due to previous abdominal surgeries I've had, which may have caused scarring that would prevent use of the instruments necessary for laparoscopic surgery. But I always have to have something to worry about. And my internist already warned me to be ready to spend the night in the hospital. But I'm not planning to, I'm really counting on outpatient surgery, going home a few hours later. Come on, let's not worry about things we can't control. What will happen will happen so let's assume the best.
And still it rains here. Tomorrow may be sunny but the weekend most likely will not. This will be a good thing, since I need to clean my house in prep. of visits from my book group. We read The kite runner. What a good book. I also want to clean my bedroom, and have actually started that process. I must go to the dump. I must spray the huge philodendron with insecticidal soap again--that takes about an hour and requires putting a towel on the wood floor and squatting in uncomfortable positions to reach all 30 huge fronds and leaves.
Last night I cleaned the fish bowl, including rinsing off the plants and gravel. I put the guppies in a pan while I cleaned their house. When I put them back in the bowl they were thrilled and haven't stopped swimming very, very quickly all around the place. I yelled at them "Come on! It wasn't THAT bad," when they said that at last they could see where they were going. How those fish do go on.
Tonight is the first night I don't have any obligations after work. I can go home, walk the dogs if I want to (will I want to?), but will be there at a reasonable hour. I have to figure out what to cook for book group on Sunday and I have to get wine for Sunday dinner. Since the IRS doubled my tax return I have no money worries for the time being. I bought a bookcase at Lowe's last week. I need to assemble it. I can do that! I know how!
Monday, April 25, 2005
I tried to get some cataloging done but OCLC is so miserable today that I can't get to the records so I'll blog instead. I need to get the Akwesasne stuff worked on, they have a huge backlog of stuff. They're not online, though, so unfortunately I put them off until the bitter end. They're the library that's on the reservation so they're stuff is harder to find.
Not a productive weekend. Rained both days, although the sun came out yesterday in the afternoon. Did not inspire me to do much but I did start cleaning my bedroom. Sorted some clothes: threw out some old stuff, put some in a bag for Salva. Army, put some sweaters away. Whittling down the collection. Bought a shoe rack, put it together and put my 21 pairs of shoes on it. And that's not my summer shoes, which, granted, there aren't many pairs of. And I don't have any dress shoes, really.
I walked to camp yesterday at 6:30 in the morning. I can't go there this time of year without really thinking of Henry. He was really getting into the rhythm of opening camp, getting set for the season, taking on the responsibility of being the one who puts in the water, gets the docks in. And of course today is his birthday. I have such a hard time, miss him so keenly. He was my brother. But it was nice to be at camp and have open water. Last weekend a loon flew in front of me, across the 60' of open water along the shore. Yesterday I could hear the loon calling. It's so early for the loons to be back, but they must sense that spring is early this year and it's ok to be here.
And now it's the last week of my director's career. The countdown is underway. 4 days after today. The big retirement bash was Friday night. I had 3 quick drinks and got through the evening ok. Don't remember too many details. But then, I don't remember the details of much of last week. I'm sort of focused on getting through the rest of this week and my surgery next week, just planning on that stuff. Hard for me to focus on much else.
I called my bank's 800 number to get my checking account balance and there was a mystery $1200 deposit so I called the bank. It seems the IRS decided I erred in my tax return this year and doubled the amount of my refund. I asked to have my refund directly deposited in my account, so there it was, nestled sweetly in there. Enough to pay for my plane ticket to Denver in July, enough to pay my electric bill, my Sears bill and more. Plenty left over. Will wonders never cease. I'll put most of it in my credit union savings account, otherwise I'll just piss it away, that's what I do with money. I need money to buy boards for my deck. I need a new couch. I need a new box spring. Oh wait, that's more than I have.
And now it's time to try OCLC again, but I'm not optimistic. Perhaps I'll do some more discards. I love being a clerk, it's so easy!
Not a productive weekend. Rained both days, although the sun came out yesterday in the afternoon. Did not inspire me to do much but I did start cleaning my bedroom. Sorted some clothes: threw out some old stuff, put some in a bag for Salva. Army, put some sweaters away. Whittling down the collection. Bought a shoe rack, put it together and put my 21 pairs of shoes on it. And that's not my summer shoes, which, granted, there aren't many pairs of. And I don't have any dress shoes, really.
I walked to camp yesterday at 6:30 in the morning. I can't go there this time of year without really thinking of Henry. He was really getting into the rhythm of opening camp, getting set for the season, taking on the responsibility of being the one who puts in the water, gets the docks in. And of course today is his birthday. I have such a hard time, miss him so keenly. He was my brother. But it was nice to be at camp and have open water. Last weekend a loon flew in front of me, across the 60' of open water along the shore. Yesterday I could hear the loon calling. It's so early for the loons to be back, but they must sense that spring is early this year and it's ok to be here.
And now it's the last week of my director's career. The countdown is underway. 4 days after today. The big retirement bash was Friday night. I had 3 quick drinks and got through the evening ok. Don't remember too many details. But then, I don't remember the details of much of last week. I'm sort of focused on getting through the rest of this week and my surgery next week, just planning on that stuff. Hard for me to focus on much else.
I called my bank's 800 number to get my checking account balance and there was a mystery $1200 deposit so I called the bank. It seems the IRS decided I erred in my tax return this year and doubled the amount of my refund. I asked to have my refund directly deposited in my account, so there it was, nestled sweetly in there. Enough to pay for my plane ticket to Denver in July, enough to pay my electric bill, my Sears bill and more. Plenty left over. Will wonders never cease. I'll put most of it in my credit union savings account, otherwise I'll just piss it away, that's what I do with money. I need money to buy boards for my deck. I need a new couch. I need a new box spring. Oh wait, that's more than I have.
And now it's time to try OCLC again, but I'm not optimistic. Perhaps I'll do some more discards. I love being a clerk, it's so easy!
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
I met with my surgeon yesterday. He's going to remove my gallbladder on May 4th--2 weeks from now. He's really, really funny. He and I hit it off right away. After he drew me pictures of internal organs ("Have you ever seen a human liver?" Now when would I have seen that? "I don't know, maybe on tv or something." Well sure, on tv) and explained about bile ducts and what the liver and the gallbladder do, and explained what the surgery is like and how he does it and that there's no option that would include just removing the stones, we ended up talking about things like what we studied in college.
He was an economics major and just loved it. We both agreed that philosophy was something that we just did NOT get. I said, "I mean really, if a trees falls in the forest, it sends out sound waves, right? So it makes noise whether there's anyone there to hear it or not." He said THANK YOU! That's SCIENCE! He said he'd like to go back to college and take all the courses he didn't get to take the first time around. Then we talked about golf a while, and I said that I know such an incredibly diverse group of people who play golf, from laid back college professors and librarians to intensely competitive assholes, that I figure it must be a really nice game. He said he plays once a year with his father and that it is a really nice game.
Then we talked about where we each live and how great it is to have neighbors. He said I'm entitled to have a second opinion (I said I don't need one) and that if I don't want a brown-eyed bald surgeon I'm welcome to try to find a blue-eyed one. He said he's done about a thousand gallbladder removals. I said, and so far you haven't told me about anyone you killed. He said surgical mortality is considered to be anyone who dies within two weeks of surgery, and he had two patients die within two weeks of their surgery. This led to the lengthy descriptions of the cases. One was a many dying of heart disease who ultimately died of a heart attack. The second was a woman who was 5' tall and weighed 450 pounds, hadn't been out of bed for the 6 months preceding the surgery who ended up dying of pneumonia. I said that surgery must have been truly, truly disgusting. He said it was revolting. What he does is make tiny incisions and stick these long skinny instruments and a camera inside, rather than making a big incision. With her, he said his instruments weren't long enough to reach the gallbladder so he had to make an incision, then he was up to his elbows just to reach the gallbladder. How gross. I said if I ever get that fat I hope someone will shoot me. He said I'll be among the thinnest of the patients he'll operate on. God this is a country full of fat people.
So now I have to have blood work done and an EKG (all of which I had done in the ER, but we are a country that loves to have tests done). I've called Lin, who is a wonderful caregiver and great friend, and she will take the day off to drive me to the hospital, wait for me while I'm having the surgery and drive me home. I'm supposed to have someone spend the night with me or else spend the night in the hospital, but I won't make her stay and I'll be just fine. The doctor doesn't want me to drive for a week, but he said that is mostly for my insurance company's reasons. Physically he says I'll be fine but if I have an accident he won't be able to say I'm in perfect physical health for a week. So I've asked for a week off but don't know what I'll do.
And here at work we're gearing up for our union elections. The newest librarian, who is not really a "team player" but who has decided she wants to control lots of things now, has decided to run for unit president. I've been president for a long, long time. She says someone asked her to run and they've decided it's time for a change. She said she wanted her own slate of officers so has asked two other people to run with her, but they didn't tell Julie (who's been vice-president along with me) or me, they just had people sign their petitions without telling us they were running. I found out yesterday when I started getting signatures on my petition. I told her I didn't mind if she ran but I thought it was divisive to do it the way she had and I wished she had come to me and said she was planning to run. I also said I wouldn't run against her because I don't want to split the group that way. It's too small a group to have 2 candidates, and I don't want to have that sort of dissention. So now the bunch on ingrates can have her. She won't stand up to management, she'll cave in. She won't insist on enforcing the contract, or full health insurance with no co-pay when we negotiate the next contract, nor will she insist that they offer two health insurance plans. She won't fight for the things I've been fighting for for the past 5 years. But the hell with them (and me, I guess), if that's what they want, let them have Bush for President and her for their union. I don't feel betrayed, I just feel the same way I feel about this country: people don't understand what they're doing, what they're asking for. We'll give up a LOT and it won't work out well, but there's really not much I can do. I won't miss fighting with management, and I won't miss hearing people complain to me (though maybe they'll complain about different things now) and I won't miss being in charge. It will be nice to NOT be the president, I have to admit. No responsibility. It's truly a thankless job and in some ways it's a lot of work and it's always a lot of worry. So in the end is a positive thing for my life. It's just the way it's being done that sucks.
He was an economics major and just loved it. We both agreed that philosophy was something that we just did NOT get. I said, "I mean really, if a trees falls in the forest, it sends out sound waves, right? So it makes noise whether there's anyone there to hear it or not." He said THANK YOU! That's SCIENCE! He said he'd like to go back to college and take all the courses he didn't get to take the first time around. Then we talked about golf a while, and I said that I know such an incredibly diverse group of people who play golf, from laid back college professors and librarians to intensely competitive assholes, that I figure it must be a really nice game. He said he plays once a year with his father and that it is a really nice game.
Then we talked about where we each live and how great it is to have neighbors. He said I'm entitled to have a second opinion (I said I don't need one) and that if I don't want a brown-eyed bald surgeon I'm welcome to try to find a blue-eyed one. He said he's done about a thousand gallbladder removals. I said, and so far you haven't told me about anyone you killed. He said surgical mortality is considered to be anyone who dies within two weeks of surgery, and he had two patients die within two weeks of their surgery. This led to the lengthy descriptions of the cases. One was a many dying of heart disease who ultimately died of a heart attack. The second was a woman who was 5' tall and weighed 450 pounds, hadn't been out of bed for the 6 months preceding the surgery who ended up dying of pneumonia. I said that surgery must have been truly, truly disgusting. He said it was revolting. What he does is make tiny incisions and stick these long skinny instruments and a camera inside, rather than making a big incision. With her, he said his instruments weren't long enough to reach the gallbladder so he had to make an incision, then he was up to his elbows just to reach the gallbladder. How gross. I said if I ever get that fat I hope someone will shoot me. He said I'll be among the thinnest of the patients he'll operate on. God this is a country full of fat people.
So now I have to have blood work done and an EKG (all of which I had done in the ER, but we are a country that loves to have tests done). I've called Lin, who is a wonderful caregiver and great friend, and she will take the day off to drive me to the hospital, wait for me while I'm having the surgery and drive me home. I'm supposed to have someone spend the night with me or else spend the night in the hospital, but I won't make her stay and I'll be just fine. The doctor doesn't want me to drive for a week, but he said that is mostly for my insurance company's reasons. Physically he says I'll be fine but if I have an accident he won't be able to say I'm in perfect physical health for a week. So I've asked for a week off but don't know what I'll do.
And here at work we're gearing up for our union elections. The newest librarian, who is not really a "team player" but who has decided she wants to control lots of things now, has decided to run for unit president. I've been president for a long, long time. She says someone asked her to run and they've decided it's time for a change. She said she wanted her own slate of officers so has asked two other people to run with her, but they didn't tell Julie (who's been vice-president along with me) or me, they just had people sign their petitions without telling us they were running. I found out yesterday when I started getting signatures on my petition. I told her I didn't mind if she ran but I thought it was divisive to do it the way she had and I wished she had come to me and said she was planning to run. I also said I wouldn't run against her because I don't want to split the group that way. It's too small a group to have 2 candidates, and I don't want to have that sort of dissention. So now the bunch on ingrates can have her. She won't stand up to management, she'll cave in. She won't insist on enforcing the contract, or full health insurance with no co-pay when we negotiate the next contract, nor will she insist that they offer two health insurance plans. She won't fight for the things I've been fighting for for the past 5 years. But the hell with them (and me, I guess), if that's what they want, let them have Bush for President and her for their union. I don't feel betrayed, I just feel the same way I feel about this country: people don't understand what they're doing, what they're asking for. We'll give up a LOT and it won't work out well, but there's really not much I can do. I won't miss fighting with management, and I won't miss hearing people complain to me (though maybe they'll complain about different things now) and I won't miss being in charge. It will be nice to NOT be the president, I have to admit. No responsibility. It's truly a thankless job and in some ways it's a lot of work and it's always a lot of worry. So in the end is a positive thing for my life. It's just the way it's being done that sucks.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Your True Birth Month Is June
Fussy
Abiding
Friendly
Stubborn
Talkative
Sensitive
Executive
Hesitating
Easily hurt
Active mind
Easily bored
Daydreamer
Loves to joke
Tends to delay
Temperamenta
lBrand conscious
Loves to dress up
Having lots of ideas
Good debating skills
Funny and humorous
Thinks far with vision
Prone to getting colds
Polite and soft-spoken
Able to show character
Seldom show emotions
Knows how to make friends
Easily influenced by kindness
Takes time to recover when hurt
Choosy and always wants the best
Those who love me are enemies;
Those who hate me are friends
Well, I don't love to dress up and I don't get the part about those who love me are enemies and those who hate me are friends, but there are truths in some of the other stuff. I woudn't mind having a birthday in June. When I was little my father let me pick a different month to have my birthday in because he and I thought it wasn't really fair to have a December birthday. I wasn't very imaginative and I picked October. Guess I should have picked June.
Fussy
Abiding
Friendly
Stubborn
Talkative
Sensitive
Executive
Hesitating
Easily hurt
Active mind
Easily bored
Daydreamer
Loves to joke
Tends to delay
Temperamenta
lBrand conscious
Loves to dress up
Having lots of ideas
Good debating skills
Funny and humorous
Thinks far with vision
Prone to getting colds
Polite and soft-spoken
Able to show character
Seldom show emotions
Knows how to make friends
Easily influenced by kindness
Takes time to recover when hurt
Choosy and always wants the best
Those who love me are enemies;
Those who hate me are friends
Well, I don't love to dress up and I don't get the part about those who love me are enemies and those who hate me are friends, but there are truths in some of the other stuff. I woudn't mind having a birthday in June. When I was little my father let me pick a different month to have my birthday in because he and I thought it wasn't really fair to have a December birthday. I wasn't very imaginative and I picked October. Guess I should have picked June.
Monday, April 18, 2005
ICEOUT
I think, today. There's very little left on the lake, and what there is could barely be considered ice, it's very slushy and in the middle.
I went to camp on Saturday, a beautiful, 70-degree day. All is well at camp but a few trees have come down in most unfortunate places. Some are big and will have to be dealt with in ways the family is not prepared to deal with. The dogs took the first swim of the season--at that point there was about 60' of open, clear and beautiful water along the shoreline. I took pictures, as I do each spring. It was really, really nice. The only ice I've found on the ground anywhere is at Rogers Camp Sonci, which is what I always find.
I spent most of the day sitting in the sun, reading The kiterunner. This is a beautifully written but incredibly sad novel about Afghanistan before, during and after Soviet and Taliban occupation. I suppose the Taliban in reality is still in control there. Anyway it's a long story but very emotional. At one point, when the main character is getting ready to adopt a child I cried. Adoption, children, that usually makes me feel very empty and like crying. Add the that the misery of these people. Anyway, I finished it and can carry on a cohesive conversation with the rest of my book group when they come to my house. I got a terrible sunburn because I was so engrossed in the book I forgot I was sitting in the sun. The dogs were great and did NOT wander. The girls kept going for brief jaunts in the woods, and went down to Ken's camp to see if he were there. He was not, much to their disappointment.
Sunday was another sterling day. I went to Sunday dinner and Fred was there, for the first time in months. It was nice to see him in a social setting (he's on my board and we've been attending negotiating sessions together since January). When I got home I felt as if I should be raking and doing things around the house, as all 3 of the other attendees at dinner had said they were going to be industrious after the meal. I raked for about 15 minutes and declared that I cannot stand to rake, do not really see the point in it and will not do it anymore. I cleared out 2 flower beds, where daffodils are emerging and crocuses are in bloom. Then I went inside and cried because I miss my brother.
I think of him whenever I do things to/around my house because he was such a source of support for me, and he loved to do things at my house. I also feel that I am not worthy of having such a house in such a beautiful spot, because I neglect the house and its grounds. I feel that houses, like cars, serve us well and we should (in return) treat them with respect and good maintenance. I do not do this to my house. I have plans for massive cleaning over Memorial Day, when I have 5 days off, and I know that I will work on the outdoor stuff soon, but I feel inadequate to the task of making the house what it really needs to be. Sometimes I think that eventually it will fall down around me, and there I will be, sitting on my couch in front of my television, surrounded by dogs. There are things I should be attending to that cost money, and things that don't cost money. I will get to those that don't cost money and will continue to worry about those that do cost money.
On Thursday I made my plane reservations for my July trip to Colorado. I will meet up with 17 of my friends from junior high school and high school for 5 days. This group used to get together every 5 years but has decided that we need to gather more often than that. It's been 3 years since we were last together. I wasn't sure I would go, but I got a lot of encouragement from 3 members of the group, so decided that yes, they want me there, so I charged the $450 ticket, selected my seats (hoping I picked the right side of the plane that flies over my house so that I will be able to see Silver Lake en route) and am now set to go. Two planned activities so far are fly fishing lessons and an evening spent riding horses to a remote spot where we'll be fed a gourmet meal and lots of wine, then be driven home. They did that the last time they reuned in Colo. Expensive evening but a lot of fun.
Friday I went to a workshop in Potsdam. Saw several people I know well (when you've been in the same area in the same profession for 20 years you sure do accumulate plenty of friends in the field). I also visited with Jenica's coworker Marianne, who read my nametag and said "Oh--YOU'RE Aunt Betsy!" Met someone who works with Drew. I love the small world aspect of where I live and work, and that Jenica is a part of it. I never would have thought it would end up this way but it's so great that it has worked out.
And today I spent the morning in Lake Placid, a last minute assignment meted out by the Director. A meeting of member librarians, this group was a bunch of I really like so it was fun. The director neglected to tell anyone here that I was going to the meeting from home, however, so no one knew where I was. They were really worried about me and finally called her at the meeting to ask if they should try to reach me at home. She said, "She's right here with me." Didn't go over well but I really appreciate knowing that they worry about me when I don't show up. When you live alone you wonder what will happen if you just don't show up to things--will anyone notice?
This whole week is supposed to be wonderful weather. My early daffodils will get a good jump on things. I put my screen door on yesterday. I think this is the earliest I've ever done that. I slept with the window wide open last night, it felt great. I have purple finches galore at the feeder and am waiting for bright yellow goldfinches to show up. A chickadee flew into the house yesterday and I had to capture him by putting a towel over him and carrying him outside. He was dazed from hitting the window so was docile and let me pet him. I got his nails stuck in the towel so had to un-stick them one at a time, little tiny feet. He sat on the table on the deck for a long time, blinking while he regained his wits and composure before flying away. Whew!
I think, today. There's very little left on the lake, and what there is could barely be considered ice, it's very slushy and in the middle.
I went to camp on Saturday, a beautiful, 70-degree day. All is well at camp but a few trees have come down in most unfortunate places. Some are big and will have to be dealt with in ways the family is not prepared to deal with. The dogs took the first swim of the season--at that point there was about 60' of open, clear and beautiful water along the shoreline. I took pictures, as I do each spring. It was really, really nice. The only ice I've found on the ground anywhere is at Rogers Camp Sonci, which is what I always find.
I spent most of the day sitting in the sun, reading The kiterunner. This is a beautifully written but incredibly sad novel about Afghanistan before, during and after Soviet and Taliban occupation. I suppose the Taliban in reality is still in control there. Anyway it's a long story but very emotional. At one point, when the main character is getting ready to adopt a child I cried. Adoption, children, that usually makes me feel very empty and like crying. Add the that the misery of these people. Anyway, I finished it and can carry on a cohesive conversation with the rest of my book group when they come to my house. I got a terrible sunburn because I was so engrossed in the book I forgot I was sitting in the sun. The dogs were great and did NOT wander. The girls kept going for brief jaunts in the woods, and went down to Ken's camp to see if he were there. He was not, much to their disappointment.
Sunday was another sterling day. I went to Sunday dinner and Fred was there, for the first time in months. It was nice to see him in a social setting (he's on my board and we've been attending negotiating sessions together since January). When I got home I felt as if I should be raking and doing things around the house, as all 3 of the other attendees at dinner had said they were going to be industrious after the meal. I raked for about 15 minutes and declared that I cannot stand to rake, do not really see the point in it and will not do it anymore. I cleared out 2 flower beds, where daffodils are emerging and crocuses are in bloom. Then I went inside and cried because I miss my brother.
I think of him whenever I do things to/around my house because he was such a source of support for me, and he loved to do things at my house. I also feel that I am not worthy of having such a house in such a beautiful spot, because I neglect the house and its grounds. I feel that houses, like cars, serve us well and we should (in return) treat them with respect and good maintenance. I do not do this to my house. I have plans for massive cleaning over Memorial Day, when I have 5 days off, and I know that I will work on the outdoor stuff soon, but I feel inadequate to the task of making the house what it really needs to be. Sometimes I think that eventually it will fall down around me, and there I will be, sitting on my couch in front of my television, surrounded by dogs. There are things I should be attending to that cost money, and things that don't cost money. I will get to those that don't cost money and will continue to worry about those that do cost money.
On Thursday I made my plane reservations for my July trip to Colorado. I will meet up with 17 of my friends from junior high school and high school for 5 days. This group used to get together every 5 years but has decided that we need to gather more often than that. It's been 3 years since we were last together. I wasn't sure I would go, but I got a lot of encouragement from 3 members of the group, so decided that yes, they want me there, so I charged the $450 ticket, selected my seats (hoping I picked the right side of the plane that flies over my house so that I will be able to see Silver Lake en route) and am now set to go. Two planned activities so far are fly fishing lessons and an evening spent riding horses to a remote spot where we'll be fed a gourmet meal and lots of wine, then be driven home. They did that the last time they reuned in Colo. Expensive evening but a lot of fun.
Friday I went to a workshop in Potsdam. Saw several people I know well (when you've been in the same area in the same profession for 20 years you sure do accumulate plenty of friends in the field). I also visited with Jenica's coworker Marianne, who read my nametag and said "Oh--YOU'RE Aunt Betsy!" Met someone who works with Drew. I love the small world aspect of where I live and work, and that Jenica is a part of it. I never would have thought it would end up this way but it's so great that it has worked out.
And today I spent the morning in Lake Placid, a last minute assignment meted out by the Director. A meeting of member librarians, this group was a bunch of I really like so it was fun. The director neglected to tell anyone here that I was going to the meeting from home, however, so no one knew where I was. They were really worried about me and finally called her at the meeting to ask if they should try to reach me at home. She said, "She's right here with me." Didn't go over well but I really appreciate knowing that they worry about me when I don't show up. When you live alone you wonder what will happen if you just don't show up to things--will anyone notice?
This whole week is supposed to be wonderful weather. My early daffodils will get a good jump on things. I put my screen door on yesterday. I think this is the earliest I've ever done that. I slept with the window wide open last night, it felt great. I have purple finches galore at the feeder and am waiting for bright yellow goldfinches to show up. A chickadee flew into the house yesterday and I had to capture him by putting a towel over him and carrying him outside. He was dazed from hitting the window so was docile and let me pet him. I got his nails stuck in the towel so had to un-stick them one at a time, little tiny feet. He sat on the table on the deck for a long time, blinking while he regained his wits and composure before flying away. Whew!
Thursday, April 14, 2005
NICE SUBJECT HEADINGS
I'm cataloging a bunch of different stuff for Keene Valley, audio books, old mountaineering books, then I come across some juvenile books. Two subject headings strike my fancy: the first is this one, "Illinois--Family life--Juvenile fiction." This fits nicely into my life. Yes, it was juvenile fiction, my family life in Illinois. The second subject heading was this: "Problem solving--Juvenile fiction." Yes, it's often a thought of childish fiction to think that we could actually solve some of life's problems.
Cataloging children's books is both entertaining and a huge amount of work. Because we're molding the minds of the youth of America, we must be careful what we use as access points. We must also use a maximum number of access points. So for one book we have "Racially mixed people;" "New Orleans--Social life and customs;" "Illinois--History;" "United States--Civil War;" "Family life;" "Race relations." Everything but rabbits. No, rabbits show up in the next book I do, which also has "Brothers and sisters" and "Problem solving" as subject headings. Children's services is an area of library service I have never been tempted to be drawn to, with the exception of schools. In my odd moments I have toyed with the idea of being a school librarian, and then I've thought I would want to work with young children, who were just discovering the magic of the written word. I love that moment in their lives when it all comes together for them.
Well, on to the next book, which is about "Helpfulness," "Helping behavior" and "Animals". The latest trend in cataloging is to use the subdivision "Fiction" rather than "Juvenile fiction." This I really object to, since there is a HUGE difference, obviously, between a novel about the Civil War and a book written for an 8 year old about life during the Civil War as seen through the eyes of an 8-year-old.
When I'm finished with the bunny book I have to do a videocassette of classic television shows of the 50's. My job is not boring.
I'm cataloging a bunch of different stuff for Keene Valley, audio books, old mountaineering books, then I come across some juvenile books. Two subject headings strike my fancy: the first is this one, "Illinois--Family life--Juvenile fiction." This fits nicely into my life. Yes, it was juvenile fiction, my family life in Illinois. The second subject heading was this: "Problem solving--Juvenile fiction." Yes, it's often a thought of childish fiction to think that we could actually solve some of life's problems.
Cataloging children's books is both entertaining and a huge amount of work. Because we're molding the minds of the youth of America, we must be careful what we use as access points. We must also use a maximum number of access points. So for one book we have "Racially mixed people;" "New Orleans--Social life and customs;" "Illinois--History;" "United States--Civil War;" "Family life;" "Race relations." Everything but rabbits. No, rabbits show up in the next book I do, which also has "Brothers and sisters" and "Problem solving" as subject headings. Children's services is an area of library service I have never been tempted to be drawn to, with the exception of schools. In my odd moments I have toyed with the idea of being a school librarian, and then I've thought I would want to work with young children, who were just discovering the magic of the written word. I love that moment in their lives when it all comes together for them.
Well, on to the next book, which is about "Helpfulness," "Helping behavior" and "Animals". The latest trend in cataloging is to use the subdivision "Fiction" rather than "Juvenile fiction." This I really object to, since there is a HUGE difference, obviously, between a novel about the Civil War and a book written for an 8 year old about life during the Civil War as seen through the eyes of an 8-year-old.
When I'm finished with the bunny book I have to do a videocassette of classic television shows of the 50's. My job is not boring.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
WHAT A WEEKEND
While the guppies gupped on Saturday I was actually productive. I vacuumed, I cleaned, I laundered, I went to the dump with TWO bags of garbage, recyclables and newspapers (saving enough to do what I've been planning to do for 2 years: cover with newspaper the part of the garden that's full of that horrible wild oregano/marjoram/whatever that Jamie's mother so generously shared with us more than 10 years ago that has now taken over my lawn, my garden, my world). Then I burned trash and picked up my yard a bit. It was a beautiful, unbelievably beautiful day. Warm and sunny, t-shirt weather. No jacket, short sleeves. Who would believe. After being productive, by 2:00 I just couldn't produce any more so I hauled out my chair and sat in the sun on the lawn (tough to find a spot that's not in the middle of a minefield of dog poop, but I did it) and read a magazine. More than miraculous was the fact that all three dogs were outside and did NOT wander, even though there were bogwalkers next door. Jackson dozed in the sun peacefully. The girls checked out the neighborhood, going down to Ken's camp and returning, going off into the woods and returning, all short trips. Good for them. It was a good day, a cheerful day, a productive day, a day to be proud of.
But then came the middle of the night, when I woke at 3:30 in great pain. Chest pain, back pain, excruciating pain. I got up, tried everything I could think of to relieve the pain. At 7:30 I called Bill to tell him I wouldn't be at Sunday dinner and I drove myself to the emergency room in Plattsburgh. Although I didn't really think I was having a heart attack, in America they keep telling us that the number one cause of death in women is heart disease. So I walked into the ER and said I was having chest pains. I love the way they respond to that. Hook you right up, give you baby aspirin to eat. They did an EKG, determined I was NOT having a heart attack. Spent hours figuring out what I was having. Did a sonogram of my gallbladder and found gallstones. Swell. So the final diagnosis was gastritis and gallstones. They tried a number of things to cure the pain, but only my best friend morphine would do it. I lovelovelove morphine. I spent 10 hours in the ER, lying on a bed hooked up to a heart monitor, separated from the next bed over by a mere curtain. 4 other patients came and went while I was there. The first was a man who also drove himself to the hospital from Constable (where we have a bookmobile stop, so proudly I knew where it was, but not a single other person there did). He was having a heart attack and was ultimately wheeled to the cardiac unit, after he got morphine, which I coveted.
Second patient was a man who proudly passed a kidney stone, which he kept in a pill bottle. It was a big one, and all the nurses admired it.
Third patient, and this was the one who nearly provoked me geriatric homicide, was a 75-year old woman from AuSable Forks, whose 4 adult (I use the term loosely) children came with her. Seems she has one artificial leg and was trying to get into her son's truck (now mind you I heard this story at LEAST 10 times) by stepping onto a milk carton (you know, one of the plastic ones). The milk carton slipped, she fell and gashed her leg on the running board ("The running board weren't even metal, it was fiberglass, and it ain't even sharp"). The gash apparently was huge ("When I do somethin' I do it right"), 4" by 6" and she is diabetic and has circulatory problems (she lost her other leg to gangrene because she didn't take care of a wound). I had to listen to them say "Him and I" ALL AFTERNOON. They were going to Pbg to buy a gas grill. I know so many details of their lives it's really pathetic. They didn't all fit inside the curtain, there were too many of them. They had a cell phone that rang really loud rock music. They kept talking about food and I felt like puking already. They all got really quiet when the doctor or nurse came to talk to me. They complained that she didn't get good enough care ("We shoulda gone to Saranac Lake, they didn't even ask if we wanted to come here"). She had to pee and asked for a catheter because it would be easier than using a bedpan. God I don't want to get obese and old. Finally, 4 doctors looked at her (which meant I had to hear the story 4 more times--this after the change in shift meant all the nurses had to be filled in on the case anew) and they whisked her off to surgery to deal with her leg.
Patient number 4 was the most pathetic. Having a heart attack. Half senile, living in a nursing home. Pretty deaf. Colostomy. Wearing a diaper. Accompanied by her daughter. So here's what I heard constantly "I can't hear you. What? I can't hear you. I'm peeing. My bowels are moving. What? I can't hear you." Jenica, if I get like that and someone has assigned me to your care (I won't), put a pillow over my face. It was awful listening to it. The daughter had incredible kindness and patience.
So I finally got discharged, at 6 p.m. with a prescription for Vicodin (by now the morphine had worn off). Well guess what, there's no pharmacy open in Plattsburgh on Sunday evening. So I had to wait until yesterday, when I took Ken to Saranac Lake for his eye appointment, where I had the prescription filled at the creepiest, strangest pharmacy I've ever been in. But I got the pills, I take the pills and the pain is better. I have an appointment with a surgeon next week. I didn't have a heart attack. My heart is fine. My liver and pancreas are fine.
This is a long boring post but my day was long and boring. Yesterday wasn't a bad day. I took the day off to take Ken to the doctor. We really do have a nice time together. His appointment took an hour, then he insisted on taking me to lunch (as if I felt like eating). We ate at the Hotel Saranac, the only restaurant I could think of in that town. We came back on the Franklin Falls Road, which winds along two bodies of water, Franklin Falls and Union Falls, both created by damming up the Saranac River. There were a bunch of kayakers getting ready to do the rapids on the river at one spot. Ken said "Does that look like fun to you?" YOU BET! It looked like a whole lot of fun to me, I envied them. Anyway, the ice was partly out of both lakes, as opposed to Silver Lake, where there's just the tiniest bit of open water along the shore. The water was deep, deep blue. The woods were brown, the sky was blue. It could have been November or April, but you knew it was April, full of optimism.
While the guppies gupped on Saturday I was actually productive. I vacuumed, I cleaned, I laundered, I went to the dump with TWO bags of garbage, recyclables and newspapers (saving enough to do what I've been planning to do for 2 years: cover with newspaper the part of the garden that's full of that horrible wild oregano/marjoram/whatever that Jamie's mother so generously shared with us more than 10 years ago that has now taken over my lawn, my garden, my world). Then I burned trash and picked up my yard a bit. It was a beautiful, unbelievably beautiful day. Warm and sunny, t-shirt weather. No jacket, short sleeves. Who would believe. After being productive, by 2:00 I just couldn't produce any more so I hauled out my chair and sat in the sun on the lawn (tough to find a spot that's not in the middle of a minefield of dog poop, but I did it) and read a magazine. More than miraculous was the fact that all three dogs were outside and did NOT wander, even though there were bogwalkers next door. Jackson dozed in the sun peacefully. The girls checked out the neighborhood, going down to Ken's camp and returning, going off into the woods and returning, all short trips. Good for them. It was a good day, a cheerful day, a productive day, a day to be proud of.
But then came the middle of the night, when I woke at 3:30 in great pain. Chest pain, back pain, excruciating pain. I got up, tried everything I could think of to relieve the pain. At 7:30 I called Bill to tell him I wouldn't be at Sunday dinner and I drove myself to the emergency room in Plattsburgh. Although I didn't really think I was having a heart attack, in America they keep telling us that the number one cause of death in women is heart disease. So I walked into the ER and said I was having chest pains. I love the way they respond to that. Hook you right up, give you baby aspirin to eat. They did an EKG, determined I was NOT having a heart attack. Spent hours figuring out what I was having. Did a sonogram of my gallbladder and found gallstones. Swell. So the final diagnosis was gastritis and gallstones. They tried a number of things to cure the pain, but only my best friend morphine would do it. I lovelovelove morphine. I spent 10 hours in the ER, lying on a bed hooked up to a heart monitor, separated from the next bed over by a mere curtain. 4 other patients came and went while I was there. The first was a man who also drove himself to the hospital from Constable (where we have a bookmobile stop, so proudly I knew where it was, but not a single other person there did). He was having a heart attack and was ultimately wheeled to the cardiac unit, after he got morphine, which I coveted.
Second patient was a man who proudly passed a kidney stone, which he kept in a pill bottle. It was a big one, and all the nurses admired it.
Third patient, and this was the one who nearly provoked me geriatric homicide, was a 75-year old woman from AuSable Forks, whose 4 adult (I use the term loosely) children came with her. Seems she has one artificial leg and was trying to get into her son's truck (now mind you I heard this story at LEAST 10 times) by stepping onto a milk carton (you know, one of the plastic ones). The milk carton slipped, she fell and gashed her leg on the running board ("The running board weren't even metal, it was fiberglass, and it ain't even sharp"). The gash apparently was huge ("When I do somethin' I do it right"), 4" by 6" and she is diabetic and has circulatory problems (she lost her other leg to gangrene because she didn't take care of a wound). I had to listen to them say "Him and I" ALL AFTERNOON. They were going to Pbg to buy a gas grill. I know so many details of their lives it's really pathetic. They didn't all fit inside the curtain, there were too many of them. They had a cell phone that rang really loud rock music. They kept talking about food and I felt like puking already. They all got really quiet when the doctor or nurse came to talk to me. They complained that she didn't get good enough care ("We shoulda gone to Saranac Lake, they didn't even ask if we wanted to come here"). She had to pee and asked for a catheter because it would be easier than using a bedpan. God I don't want to get obese and old. Finally, 4 doctors looked at her (which meant I had to hear the story 4 more times--this after the change in shift meant all the nurses had to be filled in on the case anew) and they whisked her off to surgery to deal with her leg.
Patient number 4 was the most pathetic. Having a heart attack. Half senile, living in a nursing home. Pretty deaf. Colostomy. Wearing a diaper. Accompanied by her daughter. So here's what I heard constantly "I can't hear you. What? I can't hear you. I'm peeing. My bowels are moving. What? I can't hear you." Jenica, if I get like that and someone has assigned me to your care (I won't), put a pillow over my face. It was awful listening to it. The daughter had incredible kindness and patience.
So I finally got discharged, at 6 p.m. with a prescription for Vicodin (by now the morphine had worn off). Well guess what, there's no pharmacy open in Plattsburgh on Sunday evening. So I had to wait until yesterday, when I took Ken to Saranac Lake for his eye appointment, where I had the prescription filled at the creepiest, strangest pharmacy I've ever been in. But I got the pills, I take the pills and the pain is better. I have an appointment with a surgeon next week. I didn't have a heart attack. My heart is fine. My liver and pancreas are fine.
This is a long boring post but my day was long and boring. Yesterday wasn't a bad day. I took the day off to take Ken to the doctor. We really do have a nice time together. His appointment took an hour, then he insisted on taking me to lunch (as if I felt like eating). We ate at the Hotel Saranac, the only restaurant I could think of in that town. We came back on the Franklin Falls Road, which winds along two bodies of water, Franklin Falls and Union Falls, both created by damming up the Saranac River. There were a bunch of kayakers getting ready to do the rapids on the river at one spot. Ken said "Does that look like fun to you?" YOU BET! It looked like a whole lot of fun to me, I envied them. Anyway, the ice was partly out of both lakes, as opposed to Silver Lake, where there's just the tiniest bit of open water along the shore. The water was deep, deep blue. The woods were brown, the sky was blue. It could have been November or April, but you knew it was April, full of optimism.
Friday, April 08, 2005
MY GUPPIES
Last night I went to PetsMart to get dog food and bird seed, and I was hypnotized by the fish tanks. I searched for the guppies and asked the kind young man if he would help me. Yes, he said he would. I want guppies. "Guppies? Like these?" Yes, I guess like those. "Do you have a tank?" No, not a tank, a goldfish bowl. "A BOWL?" Yes, a bowl. He thought, I'm sure, "I might as well put these poor fish on the floor and have you stomp on them, that's a good a chance as they have surviving with you as their owner." We chose 2 boys and 2 girls for me. These are not the guppies of my youth, they have fancy tails and are pretty big, about and inch and a half long. But very pretty. "Do you want plants?" Yes of course I want plants. "You may want to think about getting artificial ones, live ones probably won't survive." Again, thinking "I may as well tie them to your bumper and have you drag them home, that's their best shot at survival with you." So I picked out 2 live plants and bought one fake plant. "You'll need a filter and an air stone, some water conditioner and of course the food." OK, I can do this. I want them to have a good home, a home they can be proud of. "Do you , like, live an hour or more away?" I clearly have the look of someone who does not have neighbors. "No, they'll be ok." As long as I race home. So home I went, NO NO NO not a red light. Get out of the way, people, the lives of 4 guppies are at stake here.
Next task: locate the goldfish bowl. This was a bowl that Jamie bought in RI many, many years ago when Mark had one of his famous fish dinners, where he covers the table with plastic, puts water on the table and buys a lot of feeder goldfish (fish meant to be food for other fish) and has them swim around the table while you eat. This is a fantastic feat and so much fun it's not to be believed. Anyway, Mark said the fish were all of poor quality, cost 11 cents a piece and would all die but Jamie (being Jamie) did not believe him so we took 50 fish home with us. All but one were dead within a week. That one fish lived for several months and Mark got to know more than Jamie about fish.
So...find the bowl. It's in the mud room, this I know. The mud room is armpit-deep in stuff. I found the boards from the old boathouse that Henry wanted me to keep. I found the red bucket, lid soldered shut, that Grampy used to sit on while he caned. I found shop vac, plastic wrap from futon, pots for deck, canning jars, and of course, since I'm a box hoarder, lots and lots of boxes. FINALLY, at the bottom of it all was the goldfish bowl. YEA! I set it up, I washed the gravel, I conditioned the water, I put in the bubbler, the plants and, at last, the fish. By now the dogs are incredibly jealous of the fish. As soon as I put the bowl down on the stand they all come right up to it and snot it totally. The fish are happy, but spend the evening on one side of the bowl, next to the television. They can't see the picture but seem to like listening to CSI. They are apparently happy in their new home. Tess likes to watch them. They are still alive this morning but I forgot to feed them. I don't like the constant hum of the pump. It may not run all the time that I'm home but it can run while I'm at work and during the night. My well water can go right into the bowl because it's not treated. They are happy fish. Tracey at work says they will multiply like, well, like guppies. I hope so.
Last night I went to PetsMart to get dog food and bird seed, and I was hypnotized by the fish tanks. I searched for the guppies and asked the kind young man if he would help me. Yes, he said he would. I want guppies. "Guppies? Like these?" Yes, I guess like those. "Do you have a tank?" No, not a tank, a goldfish bowl. "A BOWL?" Yes, a bowl. He thought, I'm sure, "I might as well put these poor fish on the floor and have you stomp on them, that's a good a chance as they have surviving with you as their owner." We chose 2 boys and 2 girls for me. These are not the guppies of my youth, they have fancy tails and are pretty big, about and inch and a half long. But very pretty. "Do you want plants?" Yes of course I want plants. "You may want to think about getting artificial ones, live ones probably won't survive." Again, thinking "I may as well tie them to your bumper and have you drag them home, that's their best shot at survival with you." So I picked out 2 live plants and bought one fake plant. "You'll need a filter and an air stone, some water conditioner and of course the food." OK, I can do this. I want them to have a good home, a home they can be proud of. "Do you , like, live an hour or more away?" I clearly have the look of someone who does not have neighbors. "No, they'll be ok." As long as I race home. So home I went, NO NO NO not a red light. Get out of the way, people, the lives of 4 guppies are at stake here.
Next task: locate the goldfish bowl. This was a bowl that Jamie bought in RI many, many years ago when Mark had one of his famous fish dinners, where he covers the table with plastic, puts water on the table and buys a lot of feeder goldfish (fish meant to be food for other fish) and has them swim around the table while you eat. This is a fantastic feat and so much fun it's not to be believed. Anyway, Mark said the fish were all of poor quality, cost 11 cents a piece and would all die but Jamie (being Jamie) did not believe him so we took 50 fish home with us. All but one were dead within a week. That one fish lived for several months and Mark got to know more than Jamie about fish.
So...find the bowl. It's in the mud room, this I know. The mud room is armpit-deep in stuff. I found the boards from the old boathouse that Henry wanted me to keep. I found the red bucket, lid soldered shut, that Grampy used to sit on while he caned. I found shop vac, plastic wrap from futon, pots for deck, canning jars, and of course, since I'm a box hoarder, lots and lots of boxes. FINALLY, at the bottom of it all was the goldfish bowl. YEA! I set it up, I washed the gravel, I conditioned the water, I put in the bubbler, the plants and, at last, the fish. By now the dogs are incredibly jealous of the fish. As soon as I put the bowl down on the stand they all come right up to it and snot it totally. The fish are happy, but spend the evening on one side of the bowl, next to the television. They can't see the picture but seem to like listening to CSI. They are apparently happy in their new home. Tess likes to watch them. They are still alive this morning but I forgot to feed them. I don't like the constant hum of the pump. It may not run all the time that I'm home but it can run while I'm at work and during the night. My well water can go right into the bowl because it's not treated. They are happy fish. Tracey at work says they will multiply like, well, like guppies. I hope so.
Monday, April 04, 2005
The pope is on the radish is what Ken said to me Friday night when I arrived at his house. I'm not sure what that means but my mother and I agreed that it pretty much means you're on your way out. Sure enough, to Molly's ultimate relief I'm sure, the pope finally gave it up. And now Prince Charles has to make last-minute changes in his wedding invitations (what an inconvenience!) and change the date of his wedding. My gosh what a center-of-attention kind of guy that pope turned out to be. Stealing Terry Schiavo's thunder, even.
But I managed to eke out a pleasant weekend anyway. I even cleaned my bathroom, an odious task. I finally gave the dogs my old toilet brush, the most coveted chew toy of all. Eeeeewww, gross, I hear you squeal. But Tess and Chances and I have been playing "where can I put it so you can't get it" for a year now. I bought a new, improved brush and keep it on top of the window in the bathroom, the only place I've discovered that Tess can't reach. So I left the old one in a lower spot and she triumphantly pranced into the living room with it. Jenica knows how she prances, ears cocked just right, tail wagging enthusiastically, front paws trotting high like a Tennessee walker's (my plastic horse named Chesapeake was a Tenn. walker, he was a palomino and I believe now lives in Naples, lucky horse). Anyway, she and Chances now share their new chew toy. Who can begrudge them something so proudly acquired. And such a cheap toy!
So I cleaned the bathroom, changed the bed, vacuumed Jack's horrible hair and brushed him on the deck (no, brushed him while he was on the deck, not brushed his deck). Then I watched 2 of the videos I had, one a Matt Damon Bourne flick. He's cute. The other was The Door in the Floor, with Jeff Bridges (who is getting less cute as he ages, looking more like his father. Who remembers Sea Hunt, where Lloyd Bridges wore swim trunks up to his navel? Only Molly, I'm guessing) and Kim Basinger, who is ethereally beautiful. Now I send them back and get two more, hopefully Neverland and another one I forget which. Surprise me. Sideways comes out in DVD tomorrow, I'll put that in my queue.
It rained all day on Sat., a perfect day to watch cooking shows and videos while having a gentle fire in the stove, eating popcorn and having your dog lie on top of you. Not a bad day. My sump pump came on, a great sign of spring--the permafrost is thawing. The frost line is about 7 feet down, so this is real progress. The mud is quite respectable this year. I muck through it to get to the car. It's boot-sucking mud and I'm having fun playing in it, trying to get rid of the deep ruts I made the last time I drove to the house. This is one of mud season's great pleasures, rearranging the mud. I had grosbeaks at the bird feeder, just one pair but they sure looked happy. While I was vacuuming the dogs started to bark, looking out the window. I looked too, and a wild turkey was walking up my driveway toward the house. When it heard the dogs it turned around and ran down the hill. They do look funny when they run. Later on I let Tess out and she flushed him out by the bird feeder, put him up into the woods. They look most impressive when they fly, they're really huge birds. When I told Ken about it he asked why I didn't shoot it. Well, I have no gun, that's really why.
Sunday dinner was quite the event. Visitors before dinner, visitors after dinner, then Bill's brother Carl arrived from Penn., a surprise visit. Bill and I don't really like Carl but Ken adores him so it was a really nice thing. Carl was surprisingly charming to me (he usually pretty much ignores me). He'll stay today and leave this afternoon. Ken is thrilled to have him there so it's very nice. Ken's foot is completely healed, as of Friday night. Ken asked if I would come tonight, though, to take another look at it. We showed it to Carl yesterday so I suspect this is really a social call, which is fine with me. Ken and I are so used to our daily visit that I'll continue to stop by a few times a week for a while, until he gets busier with his spring time chores and is out until dark.
Late to work this morning. These are hard days for me to get up at 6. I have no real excuse, just that my brother is dead. I told my boss this morning that this was a really hard time for my family. Her face actually expressed compassion for a moment, and she was very kind. She said it was a good time to put my head under the pillow and not come out. That's her way of saying she's sorry for my pain. She's an only child so has no idea of a sibling relationship, and is excused for this. She was kind, that's what counts. Tomorrow, I vow to be on time. It's embarrassing to be late so often. At least spring is here, slow, early, but here nevertheless. Ken had red-winged blackbirds at his feeder. I'm jealous, that's one of my favorite spring sounds, their trill.
But I managed to eke out a pleasant weekend anyway. I even cleaned my bathroom, an odious task. I finally gave the dogs my old toilet brush, the most coveted chew toy of all. Eeeeewww, gross, I hear you squeal. But Tess and Chances and I have been playing "where can I put it so you can't get it" for a year now. I bought a new, improved brush and keep it on top of the window in the bathroom, the only place I've discovered that Tess can't reach. So I left the old one in a lower spot and she triumphantly pranced into the living room with it. Jenica knows how she prances, ears cocked just right, tail wagging enthusiastically, front paws trotting high like a Tennessee walker's (my plastic horse named Chesapeake was a Tenn. walker, he was a palomino and I believe now lives in Naples, lucky horse). Anyway, she and Chances now share their new chew toy. Who can begrudge them something so proudly acquired. And such a cheap toy!
So I cleaned the bathroom, changed the bed, vacuumed Jack's horrible hair and brushed him on the deck (no, brushed him while he was on the deck, not brushed his deck). Then I watched 2 of the videos I had, one a Matt Damon Bourne flick. He's cute. The other was The Door in the Floor, with Jeff Bridges (who is getting less cute as he ages, looking more like his father. Who remembers Sea Hunt, where Lloyd Bridges wore swim trunks up to his navel? Only Molly, I'm guessing) and Kim Basinger, who is ethereally beautiful. Now I send them back and get two more, hopefully Neverland and another one I forget which. Surprise me. Sideways comes out in DVD tomorrow, I'll put that in my queue.
It rained all day on Sat., a perfect day to watch cooking shows and videos while having a gentle fire in the stove, eating popcorn and having your dog lie on top of you. Not a bad day. My sump pump came on, a great sign of spring--the permafrost is thawing. The frost line is about 7 feet down, so this is real progress. The mud is quite respectable this year. I muck through it to get to the car. It's boot-sucking mud and I'm having fun playing in it, trying to get rid of the deep ruts I made the last time I drove to the house. This is one of mud season's great pleasures, rearranging the mud. I had grosbeaks at the bird feeder, just one pair but they sure looked happy. While I was vacuuming the dogs started to bark, looking out the window. I looked too, and a wild turkey was walking up my driveway toward the house. When it heard the dogs it turned around and ran down the hill. They do look funny when they run. Later on I let Tess out and she flushed him out by the bird feeder, put him up into the woods. They look most impressive when they fly, they're really huge birds. When I told Ken about it he asked why I didn't shoot it. Well, I have no gun, that's really why.
Sunday dinner was quite the event. Visitors before dinner, visitors after dinner, then Bill's brother Carl arrived from Penn., a surprise visit. Bill and I don't really like Carl but Ken adores him so it was a really nice thing. Carl was surprisingly charming to me (he usually pretty much ignores me). He'll stay today and leave this afternoon. Ken is thrilled to have him there so it's very nice. Ken's foot is completely healed, as of Friday night. Ken asked if I would come tonight, though, to take another look at it. We showed it to Carl yesterday so I suspect this is really a social call, which is fine with me. Ken and I are so used to our daily visit that I'll continue to stop by a few times a week for a while, until he gets busier with his spring time chores and is out until dark.
Late to work this morning. These are hard days for me to get up at 6. I have no real excuse, just that my brother is dead. I told my boss this morning that this was a really hard time for my family. Her face actually expressed compassion for a moment, and she was very kind. She said it was a good time to put my head under the pillow and not come out. That's her way of saying she's sorry for my pain. She's an only child so has no idea of a sibling relationship, and is excused for this. She was kind, that's what counts. Tomorrow, I vow to be on time. It's embarrassing to be late so often. At least spring is here, slow, early, but here nevertheless. Ken had red-winged blackbirds at his feeder. I'm jealous, that's one of my favorite spring sounds, their trill.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Oh that silly old pope. He just won't let go, will he. Even in death there is life, huh.
The sun is shining, after a night of rain. The rain helped me get rid of a lot of snow in my yard. A LOT of snow. There are patches of bare ground now, actual bare ground. Still plenty of snow, but bare ground in spots. And the pussy willows outside my kitchen window are starting to appear. If that's not spring...
I saw a goose on the Saranac River where I get my coffee (OK, I don't get my coffee IN the river) this morning. My hairdresser, who lives on a lake that's at least as frigid as mine is, said the geese have returned to her lake and they're walking around on the ice as if to say "Where's the water?" They're really back too early but it seems to be an early spring this year. This could mean anything: that it will snow a lot in April, that it will rain for the entire month of May, as it did last year, or that we'll just get lucky and have a nice, luxurious spring. Ken believes that the weather for the month is determined by the last three days of the preceding month. If that's the case, April will be 50 degrees and sunny. I can stand on my deck naked and bang the dog bowls a lot.
Awakened this morning to discover that one dog had chewed a hole in a grade-A pair of pants, that actually fit me. Dog #2 scraped the diamond stud out of my ear with her giant paw. At least this time I found the earring. Dog #3 pooped a big runny mess, with a solid turd decorating the whole thing, standing upright in the middle of it like a sculpture, in the middle of one of the rugs. Why always on the rug? What's wrong with vinyl tile? My house reeks of dog poop. I cleaned up the mess but of course can't get the runny part out so I put the rug on the deck railing--my solution to everything I can't deal with. I was sort of hoping it would rain today and rinse my troubles away.
Retirement parties being planned for my director. A woman who has really caused me grief, interfered with my ability to do my job, insulted me, complimented me, told me how much she likes me, told me I'm brilliant, the most intelligent person in the building, on and on the list goes. Now I have to pay $30 to have dinner and "honor" her, contribute to a gift for her, spend an evening listening to other people pretend to pay tribute to her as well. She's spent the library system into a deficit for the first time, alienated a loyal staff, dragged out contract negotiations for the second contract term, and more. But I digress. The staff has decided to have an in-house luncheon party for her. Spaghetti. She'll do her usual tuck-the-napkin-in-her-blouse so she can eat like a pig. I've been asked to make cheesecake. Then I have to watch her eat spaghetti. She has the manners of a cavewoman. Smacks her lips like a trucker. No offense to truckers of the world. But then, on May 2nd I'll come to work and she won't be my boss anymore. I'm not sure how I'll react.
And this weekend it's supposed to rain. 50 degrees and rainy. I'll have a fire in the stove to take the dampness out, take naps, watch videos, do crossword puzzles and clean my house. Too ambitious? except for the napping. I may take the dogs for a walk. I like the effect of rain on snow, it gets foggy in the woods and is really beautiful. Last night Jackson disappeared in the pouring rain for 2.5 hours. Where he goes on these forays no one knows. He could be standing in the woods behind the house for all I know. As soon as I tuck myself into bed he hops on the back deck and barks at the back door, though, never fails. Funny boy.
The sun is shining, after a night of rain. The rain helped me get rid of a lot of snow in my yard. A LOT of snow. There are patches of bare ground now, actual bare ground. Still plenty of snow, but bare ground in spots. And the pussy willows outside my kitchen window are starting to appear. If that's not spring...
I saw a goose on the Saranac River where I get my coffee (OK, I don't get my coffee IN the river) this morning. My hairdresser, who lives on a lake that's at least as frigid as mine is, said the geese have returned to her lake and they're walking around on the ice as if to say "Where's the water?" They're really back too early but it seems to be an early spring this year. This could mean anything: that it will snow a lot in April, that it will rain for the entire month of May, as it did last year, or that we'll just get lucky and have a nice, luxurious spring. Ken believes that the weather for the month is determined by the last three days of the preceding month. If that's the case, April will be 50 degrees and sunny. I can stand on my deck naked and bang the dog bowls a lot.
Awakened this morning to discover that one dog had chewed a hole in a grade-A pair of pants, that actually fit me. Dog #2 scraped the diamond stud out of my ear with her giant paw. At least this time I found the earring. Dog #3 pooped a big runny mess, with a solid turd decorating the whole thing, standing upright in the middle of it like a sculpture, in the middle of one of the rugs. Why always on the rug? What's wrong with vinyl tile? My house reeks of dog poop. I cleaned up the mess but of course can't get the runny part out so I put the rug on the deck railing--my solution to everything I can't deal with. I was sort of hoping it would rain today and rinse my troubles away.
Retirement parties being planned for my director. A woman who has really caused me grief, interfered with my ability to do my job, insulted me, complimented me, told me how much she likes me, told me I'm brilliant, the most intelligent person in the building, on and on the list goes. Now I have to pay $30 to have dinner and "honor" her, contribute to a gift for her, spend an evening listening to other people pretend to pay tribute to her as well. She's spent the library system into a deficit for the first time, alienated a loyal staff, dragged out contract negotiations for the second contract term, and more. But I digress. The staff has decided to have an in-house luncheon party for her. Spaghetti. She'll do her usual tuck-the-napkin-in-her-blouse so she can eat like a pig. I've been asked to make cheesecake. Then I have to watch her eat spaghetti. She has the manners of a cavewoman. Smacks her lips like a trucker. No offense to truckers of the world. But then, on May 2nd I'll come to work and she won't be my boss anymore. I'm not sure how I'll react.
And this weekend it's supposed to rain. 50 degrees and rainy. I'll have a fire in the stove to take the dampness out, take naps, watch videos, do crossword puzzles and clean my house. Too ambitious? except for the napping. I may take the dogs for a walk. I like the effect of rain on snow, it gets foggy in the woods and is really beautiful. Last night Jackson disappeared in the pouring rain for 2.5 hours. Where he goes on these forays no one knows. He could be standing in the woods behind the house for all I know. As soon as I tuck myself into bed he hops on the back deck and barks at the back door, though, never fails. Funny boy.
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