How convenient working downtown can be. Living and working in the capital city of my state is really quite lovely. Although my office is no great shakes in terms of lovely views, privacy, or cushy furniture, it is within walking distance of the post office, DHHR, Taylor Books, the New Yorkiest slice of pie you can find in this far south, the library and The Peanut Shoppe. Just today I strolled over to the DHHR office and picked up official copies of birth certificates for B and me. How cool is it that I can hoof it through the historic district of my city on a beautiful day and get what I need. I got three copies each, just in case, and made my way back to the office in less than 30 minutes. Awesome.
I mentioned the library and The Peanut Shoppe for two reasons: 1) these are two of my favorite places in the world (granted I haven't seen a lot of the world), and 2) I finally, finally, finally finished my autobiography for our home study. At last! In my "Happy Memories" section I talked about how much I love the library. When I was a little girl, my mom, brother, and I would hop on the bus every Saturday and make our way into the city. We would go to the library and check out as many books as we could - 20 apiece. It was a haven for us from being stuck in a rural area with no cable, no video games, and no computers. It was the 70's folks! Once we got the goods, we would cross the street and eat at McDonalds. This McDonalds was extra cool because it had a downstairs section. Mom would rarely take us down there except to go to the bathroom, because the transients would hang out down there and try to bum money or food. The McDonalds is long gone, currently replaced by a parking garage/coffee shop and a swanky French restaurant - with no cool downstairs. After a plain filet-o-fish and fries, we would cross the street again and head into The Peanut Shoppe. 30 years later the place still looks and smells the same. Also 30 years later I still buy the same thing, French-burnt peanuts. Little red, candy-coated peanuts in waxy, white paper bags, each one a burst of salty sweet goodness in my mouth.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Good News All Wrapped Up in Bad
Why is it that good news is usually cushioned with so much bad? Like lambswool in a too big slipper, my narrow happiness is cushioned all around with itchy, hateful, I-just-can't-make-it-fit frustration and sadness. Things haven't been so great lately. I am still struggling with finding my nitch at work and in my doc program, found out my best friend is divorcing, and learned that my brother may possibly have Meniere's disease. In the midst of what could possibly be one of the worst days of my life, we get the call. Our agency has accepted us - they actually said they were looking forward to working with B and me. Gee, I wonder how long this will last - probably until the 5, 000th phone call or email...
Good news I can't really dwell on. I am sad for my friends, terrified for my brother, and really need to just get over myself. B has gone through a divorce, and we have gone through another one with his ex-wife; however, this is different. We love both these people. We often hang out together, and many times Brian will go with my girlfriend to see scary movies or smoke outside, while her husband and I will see the funny ones and chat about comic books, movies and celebrity gossip. We always switch partners when playing games, and ususally sit across from the opposite at dinner. That's the only swapping we do, so shut up! Nevertheless, I am sad to see it disintegrate and feel very helpless. This marriage is cancer, all good things are being eaten slowly by hard feelings, resentment, and loss of love and respect. And just like cancer, remission may happen, but the threat of the disease will always be there, lingering and waiting; a silent, deadly fog of poison anticipating one sharp inhale.
My brother is going deaf. He is in a lot of pain and is very sick with constant vertigo. Again, the feelings of helplessness are overwhelming me. Meniere's disease is scary and can make life incredibly difficult to maintain. He has three small children; a family to support. I wish I could do more, but all we can do is wait. All of his childhood and youth, my brother was teased about the size of his ears. In elementary school I opened up many, many cans of "Whoop Ass" because of taunts like, "big ears" or "Dumbo." In adulthood, my brother's head and body finally caught up with his ears, and he is a proportionate, beautiful man (way prettier than me). His ears no longer look large or unusual, they look normal. I just hate it that the one feature that caused him so much torment as a child is continuing to make him miserable.
As I type this I cry. I am crying for my baby brother whom I can no longer protect. I can't beat up anyone or make this go away. I am crying for my friends who are struggling so hard to find happiness. I am crying for myself, because no matter how great our news may be, the stress of these two incredibly important people supersedes any bliss I may have.
Good news I can't really dwell on. I am sad for my friends, terrified for my brother, and really need to just get over myself. B has gone through a divorce, and we have gone through another one with his ex-wife; however, this is different. We love both these people. We often hang out together, and many times Brian will go with my girlfriend to see scary movies or smoke outside, while her husband and I will see the funny ones and chat about comic books, movies and celebrity gossip. We always switch partners when playing games, and ususally sit across from the opposite at dinner. That's the only swapping we do, so shut up! Nevertheless, I am sad to see it disintegrate and feel very helpless. This marriage is cancer, all good things are being eaten slowly by hard feelings, resentment, and loss of love and respect. And just like cancer, remission may happen, but the threat of the disease will always be there, lingering and waiting; a silent, deadly fog of poison anticipating one sharp inhale.
My brother is going deaf. He is in a lot of pain and is very sick with constant vertigo. Again, the feelings of helplessness are overwhelming me. Meniere's disease is scary and can make life incredibly difficult to maintain. He has three small children; a family to support. I wish I could do more, but all we can do is wait. All of his childhood and youth, my brother was teased about the size of his ears. In elementary school I opened up many, many cans of "Whoop Ass" because of taunts like, "big ears" or "Dumbo." In adulthood, my brother's head and body finally caught up with his ears, and he is a proportionate, beautiful man (way prettier than me). His ears no longer look large or unusual, they look normal. I just hate it that the one feature that caused him so much torment as a child is continuing to make him miserable.
As I type this I cry. I am crying for my baby brother whom I can no longer protect. I can't beat up anyone or make this go away. I am crying for my friends who are struggling so hard to find happiness. I am crying for myself, because no matter how great our news may be, the stress of these two incredibly important people supersedes any bliss I may have.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
The Beginning
Well today started the process - we mailed our application to our agency. After I covertly made copies of everything, my friend Caroline and I hoofed it a block over to the post office. My hands were shaking as I handed it over to Jason, a very friendly postal worker. As Caroline and I walked out of the building and into the sunshine dappled city of Charleston, I imagined the envelope winging it's way to Colorado fueled by the anxious beating of my heart. Anxiety over acceptance, anxiety over beginning a process that is going to change our lives forever. We can't wait - the journey to Ruby has finally begun.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
The Best Part of Wakin' Up
Let me tell you about my lovely morning. Not only did my internal alarm clock start to sing "Good Morning to You" at 7:30 this morning, my full bladder began to sing melody along with the harmony of my sinuses begging for Benedryl. Making for a nice holiday, I-haven't-been-in-bed-later-than-6:30 am-for-a-week, weekend wake up call. Just to exacerbate the great, good morning vibes, I realized I was having "one of those dreams" about Gene Simmons of all people so I hauled my ass out of bed PDQ. Since it's Saturday and I don't have to rush around getting ready for the JOB, I decided to languish in my recliner that massages, drink some of my tasty mail-order coffee, and read a trashy book. I sleepily programmed my coffee maker for six man-sized cups (actually, it's a perfect amount to fill 2 Fiesta cappuccino mugs) and settled in with my book and blanket. After about 5 minutes I realize I don't hear the whirs and glurgs of my coffeemaker. I jump out of my cozy nest and lo and behold my coffeemaker is broken. NOOOOOOO! In memory I can see it all in Super Slow-Mo, it was so horrific.
Now I have been a coffee drinker since I was a wee one and if I do not have coffee within approximately one and one-half hours of waking I am intolerable, physically sick, and just damn evil. The last time I went without my requisite 2-3 cups in the A.M. was the day I had my breast reduction surgery which was October 29, 2003 (yes, I remember the date - big surgery, no coffee). Keep in mind I was having major surgery and received many, many drugs for the following week so lack of caffeine didn't really register. Actually, I think the only times in the last 20 years I didn't have my morning cuppa was prior to surgery. Basically 3 times in the last 20 years or so. So, you think I'm addicted?
Anyways, I very angrily stomp back upstairs to put clothes on to go buy take-out coffee. While dressing I look in the bathroom mirror and have the realization that I fell asleep in my makeup and I look sort of like this chick. Maybe it was subconscious because B & I went to see this flick last night and I loved it, but only because I love Jason Statham and he is now forever in my top five. But, I digress...
I wipe the goo off and make my way to the local Hardees, which surprisingly has some rockin' coffee, and proceed to get behind this very large man who has 5, count them, 5 separate orders. I swear to God if that man hadn't outweighed me by at least 100 pounds I would have probably physically hurt him. That and the fact that I probably wouldn't have gotten any coffee in jail are the two reasons I didn't go on a rampage and ram this guy's red Bronco right in the ass. I finally get my 20 ounces of hot, Hardees brew and make my way home. All plans weren't in jest, however, I promptly put my pjs on, grabbed my book, and hit the "high" button on the recliner massager and killed 2 hours like it was nothin.
Trashy Book:
Awaken Me Darkly by Gena Showalter - aliens, guns, and a badass chick, all wrapped up in cheesy goodness.
Now I have been a coffee drinker since I was a wee one and if I do not have coffee within approximately one and one-half hours of waking I am intolerable, physically sick, and just damn evil. The last time I went without my requisite 2-3 cups in the A.M. was the day I had my breast reduction surgery which was October 29, 2003 (yes, I remember the date - big surgery, no coffee). Keep in mind I was having major surgery and received many, many drugs for the following week so lack of caffeine didn't really register. Actually, I think the only times in the last 20 years I didn't have my morning cuppa was prior to surgery. Basically 3 times in the last 20 years or so. So, you think I'm addicted?
Anyways, I very angrily stomp back upstairs to put clothes on to go buy take-out coffee. While dressing I look in the bathroom mirror and have the realization that I fell asleep in my makeup and I look sort of like this chick. Maybe it was subconscious because B & I went to see this flick last night and I loved it, but only because I love Jason Statham and he is now forever in my top five. But, I digress...
I wipe the goo off and make my way to the local Hardees, which surprisingly has some rockin' coffee, and proceed to get behind this very large man who has 5, count them, 5 separate orders. I swear to God if that man hadn't outweighed me by at least 100 pounds I would have probably physically hurt him. That and the fact that I probably wouldn't have gotten any coffee in jail are the two reasons I didn't go on a rampage and ram this guy's red Bronco right in the ass. I finally get my 20 ounces of hot, Hardees brew and make my way home. All plans weren't in jest, however, I promptly put my pjs on, grabbed my book, and hit the "high" button on the recliner massager and killed 2 hours like it was nothin.
Trashy Book:
Awaken Me Darkly by Gena Showalter - aliens, guns, and a badass chick, all wrapped up in cheesy goodness.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
My Blood Pressure's Supposed to Go Down - Not Up!
In all of my other busy business, right in the middle of my day yesterday I had to go to the doctor. Being overweight and having a PPP (Piss Poor Predisposition), I have hypertension. I have been trying to regulate it with medication and dieting for the last year. If you read my previous post, you may remember that this time last year I was trying to get pregnant. Well, I discussed this with my GP and we tried a safe med. Once B & I stopped all that fertility hoo-hah and made the decision to adopt, I decided that 3 pills a day was a little irritating. So I made an appointment with my GP and asked if I could have just one pill a day. I informed my GP about the "no more fertility treatment ever" plans and she prescribed a new med that I take once a day. As of yesterday I had been taking this med for 5 months. Within that 5 months I have been so tired and fatigued on a daily basis that going to work is a struggle, my house has accumulated enough cat hair to crochet a blanket for Ruby, have enough stacks of unsorted junk mail to make a really cool maze for Darwin and Eliza (the cats), and could probably write my memoirs in the dust on my mantle. I looked up the medication I was taking along with the side effects (fatigue and low libido) and I decided that we needed to re-evaluate my medication. After re-giving the front desk all of my information for the second time and getting my picture taken (What the Hell is that?), I finally made it to the exam room, list of issues and needs in hand. When I complained about this lack of energy to my GP this is how the conversation went:
Me: " I would really like to change my blood pressure medication. I have no energy, no libido, I am tired all of the time and it's really bothering me. I also think I need a stronger diuretic because I am retaining water like a sponge" I then began pressing on my arms which produced yellow rings of loveliness.
Dr: "Well, you're on a beta-blocker and that's a common side effect. I prescribed it because you're trying to get pregnant. Are you still trying to get pregnant?"
HELLO!
Me (very nastily): "No, we are adopting, and I distinctly remember telling you this at my last appointment. It's not something I would forget." Smug, small smile.
Dr: "Oh. Really. Well then let's prescribe you some of the good stuff, so you won't feel so bad. Let's try Diovan."
Me: "Does it include a diuretic?"
Dr: "No, do you want one?
At this point I could only nod my head up and down - my words would have been too ugly.
She then explains how the Diovan (with diuretic) works.
Me: "I also need a letter from you for our adoption application. Because I take this medicine, I need you to tell them that it is controlled by medication and I am healthy enough to raise a child."
Dr: "Can I hand-write it?"
Me (nastily again): "No. It needs to be typed, on letterhead and signed with your credentials." It was sooooo hard not to add "DUH!" to the end of this statement.
Dr.: "You can pick it up Tuesday."
After that I basically grabbed my little bag of samples and got the hell out of Dodge. I believe I will be finding another doctor ASAP.
And I took off work for this?
Books:
Only one cause I'm a student - dammit!
4th of July - James Patterson
Me: " I would really like to change my blood pressure medication. I have no energy, no libido, I am tired all of the time and it's really bothering me. I also think I need a stronger diuretic because I am retaining water like a sponge" I then began pressing on my arms which produced yellow rings of loveliness.
Dr: "Well, you're on a beta-blocker and that's a common side effect. I prescribed it because you're trying to get pregnant. Are you still trying to get pregnant?"
HELLO!
Me (very nastily): "No, we are adopting, and I distinctly remember telling you this at my last appointment. It's not something I would forget." Smug, small smile.
Dr: "Oh. Really. Well then let's prescribe you some of the good stuff, so you won't feel so bad. Let's try Diovan."
Me: "Does it include a diuretic?"
Dr: "No, do you want one?
At this point I could only nod my head up and down - my words would have been too ugly.
She then explains how the Diovan (with diuretic) works.
Me: "I also need a letter from you for our adoption application. Because I take this medicine, I need you to tell them that it is controlled by medication and I am healthy enough to raise a child."
Dr: "Can I hand-write it?"
Me (nastily again): "No. It needs to be typed, on letterhead and signed with your credentials." It was sooooo hard not to add "DUH!" to the end of this statement.
Dr.: "You can pick it up Tuesday."
After that I basically grabbed my little bag of samples and got the hell out of Dodge. I believe I will be finding another doctor ASAP.
And I took off work for this?
Books:
Only one cause I'm a student - dammit!
4th of July - James Patterson
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