A Treasure Found at Home

last night i went to the fire arts festival at the crucible. several people asked me if i would be there, and i repeatedly said no. i had other plans friday and was heading out of town sunday so i needed to clean my house and pack.

then when i was shopping for some last minute business trip stuff, i noticed a voice mail from the person i was supposed to meet that night. he was having a hard time making it happen… the bay was too pretty and he would rather be sailing. plus, half an hour between our neighbourhoods was a significant distance. huh. well. that’s fine, i was more interested in the fire anyhow, but it again pointed out this strange sort of feeling of ‘otherness’ i have here in the bay area.

the psychological barrier of the bay is amazing to me. people do not like to cross bridges to see each other. then there’s the strange relationship with honesty. moments where i would choose to be vauge, others are frighteningly honest, and where i believe honesty is critical and necissary others are vauge or won’t discuss at all.

strange communications aside, i had a great time at the fire arts festival. again, i forgot my camera (something that’s been happening more and more lately). you’ll have to check out flickr for illustrations. i ran into my neighbours and a dude i used to work with. a couple times during the evening i was struck with how much fun and spectical we were having using fire when so much of the rest of the state is on fire in a dangerous, frightening way right now.

i’m reminded of how, as humans, our emotions can sometimes not be identified without external circumstances — how love and broken heartedness feel the same, how fear and attraction sometimes feel the same, too.

it gives a girl some insight into what she’s not blogging about, even if she’s thinking about it.

i woke up this morning thinking of things i didn’t do for work. ugh. and then i thought about things i didn’t do at home. meh.

and then i started to consider, again, the things i’m not doing for me.

i can’t say i’m especially fond of these types of mornings.

my car is in the shop so i’m putting of going to work because i have to ride my bike. since the air has been smokey from the fires i’ve been driving again, plus with the early morning panic wake up i’m not feeling very sprightly.

ok, to work and breakfast!

it’s been quite a while since i wrote one of these. i’m slacking.

1. guy at desk knows i’m legit and doesn’t make me wait for someone to sign me in
2. oatmeal
3. bacon
4. free breakfast
5. m&m’s
6. galahad is healthy
7. close call, almost an accident on the way home, but everyone was ok and the driver didn’t hit anything
8. ring fixed and returned
9. avacado

really?

really.

it changed your life? how?

i hear people say this about things all the time. “such and such book changed my life!” even “i never ate ____ until _____ and it changed my life!”

i’m starting to think maybe i use this “changed my life” phrase differently than others. i expect more out of it. a recent post on lifehacker asked readers to reply listing books which changed their lives. today i saw the results.

and, really, i’m stunned. ok, the bible was on the list as was some richard dawkins. i understand why those might be on there. i can see a fundamental shift in one’s belief system as an even worthy of the phrase “changed my life”.

but, “the lord of the rings” trilogy? “the hitchiker’s guide to the galaxy”? i’ve read both series. i’ve greatly enjoyed both series. i sometimes wonder if i should always have a towel with me, and i used to wish for hairier feet.

but unless you actually HAVE started carrying a towel with you everywhere, i’m not clear how this book, or series of books, could actually change your life. the only possible theories i can come up with are far-fetched and possible for only a small percentage of readers, statistically speaking. (you know, someone decided to change his legal name to that of a car and  was sued into poverty by the manufacturer of said car - that sort of thing.)

yes, “the lord of the rings” is a fantastic comentary on europe and the time leading up to and including england’s engagement in WWII. if you follow that metaphor for the series, you’re probably already aware of the political climate in which it was written.

i suppose i reserve “it changed my life” for events wich change the course of my life more than an average day already does. every choice changes my life. tasting spinach in high school lead me to realize i like spinach and to start eating it in scrambles and salads and crepes. but i wouldn’t consider it a life-changing event. i don’t believe my life would be significantly different now had i continued without spinach as part of my diet.

i did read a book recently that *may* change my life. it is part of a series of events (conversations, books, realizations) which has gotten me to really think about some things in a different way. but, if i stay on this course, i’ll only consider it a good book full of food for though. i won’t list it among books that changed my life.

what about you? how significant does something have to be for you to say it changed your life. am i expecting too much from this phrase?

oh my goodness. i can not tell you how excited i am about this.

WB is making a remake of ‘clash of the titans’! details, here.

i kid you not, this is one of my favourite movies.

i flew in from florida last night. i won’t talk too much about the wad of 12 year olds sitting around us, and their three adult “advisers” who didn’t manage to advise them to settle down and be quiet and stop kicking and waking other passengers until we were landing in sfo.

i saw grandma almost daily in florida. she made a remarkable improvement while i was there. one of my aunts said, “we’re thinking the m-word,” right after i arrived (that’s m-iracle). no one could believe she would last the week yet when i saw her sunday morning on my way to the airport, she was sitting up in her chair. or, rather, she was in her chair leaned back and would sometimes sit up to ask a question.

her eyesight is almost completely gone and she keeps her left eye closed in hopes that doing so will mean she’ll be able to see more when she does open it. she doesn’t want pain meds because she says they make her hallucinate, but she’s in a LOT of pain. we’ve found oxycontin (is that how it’s spelled? the one everyone gets addicted to.)… we’ve found that works well for her, but the hospice won’t let US ask for it, it has to come from grandma, who forgets that it doesn’t have the unpleasant side effects. so we talk her into it every couple days, she says she feels better, then we tell her it’s because of the pain meds, she expresses surprise, then only remembers the bad experiences by the time the pain comes back. or thinks she shouldn’t ask for some other reason (she doesn’t want to be a bother, etc.).

she’s supposed to go home today! not because she’s well enough to live at home, really, but because of some missteps at the hospital before she was released to hospice. apparently, she was released 6 hours short of the time required for medicare to pay the first 100 days of her nursing home. now, six hours in a hospital is not  a lot of time. we’re not talking a whole day, even. i’ve been “lost” in a hospital for a couple hours before. (i was where i was supposed to be, but they didn’t look all the way in the room and claimed i was gone.) so, the big question is why didn’t anyone in-the-know notice? we didn’t even know, at the time, about the requirement.

so, dad and unc spent a couple days negotiating with someone who wants very much to be important and influential, but is instead the social worker assigned to families at a small florida hospice. and while i can say with certainty that he will be remembered and talked about by this family, it’s not going to be in the way most people would like that for themselves. my aunt very directly and very plainly gave him what-for when she thought she was leaving the hospice for the last time. (she told him the meeting with him was worse than any meeting with an inept school psychologist she’d ever had in her 32 years of teaching.) this dude had us convinced our only option was to take grandma home immediately because the hospice was all out of pocket, in a car because the ambulance ride would be so expensive, and try to care for her with what we had there. OR pay out of pocket for a nursing home which we couldn’t even really pick ourselves. at one point he told the family HE would decide what would happen and then actually had the gall to ask how much money the rest of the family has. (not, will you be able to help your mother pay for this and how much support are you able to give, but - how much do you have in the bank?) and said, “blah blah blah, rich families like you, blah blah blah” !!!

after talking to his supervisor we found that all hospice care is covered, that includes the rental of home health equipment. in fact, they wouldn’t let us take her home without first having a hospital bed, table, and bedside toilet (at least) delivered to her house. a home care nurse called and will meet with everyone still there about how to empty the catheter bag, change sheets, wash grandma… etc. also, the ambulance ride from the hospice to home is covered. the supervisor stopped at one point in the conversation with dad and unc and said, “i take it this is all a surprise to you?”

so, huge improvement from friday’s belief that we were taking her home, completely unprepared, by car.

dad, however, already returned her wheelchair so he’s going to have to go re-rent that.

it’s morning and i’m pouring my yogurt and granola while mom gets herself ready to go on her 4 mile round trip walk to starbucks where she has a latte and does sudoku. she puts on her sunglasses, flips the switch on her sansa mp3 player, and gives me the thumbs up. i notice something a little strange about the picture, though.

me: mom, is that soda in your water bottle?

mom, playfully defensive: it’s my diet pop!

pointing at me: YOU!*

she grabbed it with both hands and protected it with her body as she walked past me out the door.

* this is the family shortcut for “Abasta!” or “you, stop saying what you’re saying even if it is true.”

grandma is on her way out. there’s no way to really ease into that fact, so i’ll just go ahead and say it. i found out sunday at the end of the Open Sky level meditation class. everyone else was celebrating and i was sitting in the corner, crying. you could say i like to really use what i learn as quickly as possible.

i booked a flight as soon as i got to work the next day. it took me some time to decide what to do. i knew my parents would tell me i didn’t have to come, that after she dies will be more important, but i really wanted to be with the family and help them with this transition.

a friend of mine, m, offered to both take galahad for the week and drive me to the airport. what luck! i got there early, had dinner, then noticed my flight had been delayed until something like 4:19AM! which of course meant i’d miss my connection and have to be stuck in kennedy till the next day as there was only one flight to sqr a day — at least i think that’s what they were telling me.

i was crushed. i called mom, i called m, i called hamster_grrl. remarkably, it took us all to get the thing all sorted out. m offered to come get me, mom told me to get a refund and she’d book a new flight with miles, and hamster_grrl mentioned that all the delayed people were going to be trying for the same flights i wanted.

i got my refund with no problem (really, i can’t say enough about how well Jet Blue treated me. big props to them.) and called mom again to ask her to start looking into flights. i thought for sure i wouldn’t make it out in time, and i sat in front of the airport and cried. it was so interesting to feel the waves of grief come over me, and almost more interesting that they weren’t uncontrolable and yet i could still feel the rising of each wave.

mom found a flight, but it left in just over one hour (70 min) from sfo… i was at oakland. m agreed by phone to try for it, he was just over a mile away. by the time he got to me, though, mom had nixed that plan (the woman she was talking to couldn’t confirm a seat for me.) and we sat in the car waiting to find out if i was flying that night or the next morning and from which airport. i got confirmed on a 12:4something flight out of sfo. m willingly drove me over the bridge and dropped me off more than two hours early.

which was lucky.

i couldn’t check in with the self serve machines so i talked to a counter agent. he told me the certificat hadn’t gone through. no miles had been used to pay for the flight! the ticket had not been bought!

he was going on break but told me he’d check again when i got back. mom should call the airline again and get them to re-issue the certificate and to make sure i had confirmation from him before she hung up. if he wasn’t back before she did her part, his co-worker with the brown ponytail would help me. just wave and even if she was with someone else she’d just look up the confirmation number and tell me if it was through or not.

well… let’s just say ponytail woman wasn’t making any friends that night. i know when flights are canceled and delayed that the agents have a really hard time, but one girl my age was reduced to tears by this woman. to the point where strangers were asking her if she was ok and the other agent had to take over. and ponytail didn’t even blink an eye. she didn’t acknowledge me at all when i asked her to look up my confirmation number, to fulfill her promise to the dude. she hardly looked at the people she was supposed to be helping.

i told mom i’d just call her back, my friendly guy came back from break, confirmed it had gone through, and printed a boarding pass for me. i waited until i was through security to send mom a text.

i hardly slept on the plane, though, as the dude behind me must have been six foot three, at the very least, and didn’t have room for his knees. every time he would move he’d get me in the back. it couldn’t have been comfortable for him, either.

i landed in dallas in time to see a beautiful texas sunrise! man, i had no idea how much i missed those.

i had breakfast at a chain restaurant in the terminal and wandered a bit. i ended up at the gate that had been mine, and the agents noticed me sitting there alone and told me my gate had been changed. i wandered down to the new gate, nearly passed out before boarding, slept for probably a good two of the two and a half hours from dfw to tampa, and got picked up by mom.

we went to chick-fil-a for lunch. i drank dr. pepper. i was not in california.

grandma was so glad to see me that she kissed my hand over and over and told me several times how much she loves me and how wonderful i am and how happy she is about me. then she said, “Tell [my brother].” so i did.

i sent him an email saying that grandma had told me i’m her favourite.*

i’m so glad i’m here. it’s not easy to see her this way and my heart breaks to see my aunts and uncles and parents (and her neighbours) get choked up. and it breaks my heart to see her be scared and confused, she’s blind and the hospice is unfamiar to her. but i try to stay grounded and to bring peace to the situation. and i remind her that, just like a mother does for her babies, we will always come back.

*ok, yes, she could have meant to tell him she feels the same about him… it’s open to interpretation.

seems like most of the women/couples i know are either pregnant or had a baby within the past year or so. i’m so happy for all of them (one is having twins - a boy and a girl!) it’s a celebration of life everywhere i turn.

Princess_Jennifred started her personal army family nine years ago, and has written one of the best happy birthday posts i’ve seen. congratulations, zach, happy birthday! nine years, way to go.

yesterday i took lunch to my friends and their new beautiful baby girl. i can’t believe i forgot my camera in the car. but, really, my hands were full and i don’t think i would have wanted to set her down to get a photo.

she is, as most just born babies are, very wee. c is an expert swadler but rr is an expert escape artist. br tells me she just discovered her hands the other day. she seems to like them very much and was self comforting by sucking on the side of her left hand. none of the fingers actually stayed in her mouth on the few occasions that they made it in to begin with.

we talked about babies and relationships and love and what comforting movement and noises their little jewel prefers. her daddy even sang her a little song — i nearly melted right then and there.

after br and rr left for their meeting, i helped c measure for the handrails in the house (which is almost finished). then i drove down to the maker faire where i hung out with tut and dr. beth (and nomad and his date briefly). afterwards, we had dinner at this bizzare sushi restaurant in st. matt then i drove home and fell asleep on the couch watching tv i recorded earlier in the week. oops

being called “girly-head” by a curly haired four year old in a dress and pink shoes while giving her a piggy-back ride up a tall, steep hill on a dirt road

this song: http://rurl.org/pml

my cat looking at the drain when i reach to turn on the water in the tub (that’s where the water pools, it must come from that direction, too, no?)

big ‘ol trout swimming up against my ankles

watching momma mouse run with babies still attached (only because i knew they were actually safe)

watching previously mentioned four year old try to slide on nearly horizontal slide, set so low the end actually pointed up

availability of other work
office supplied bagels
garma’s back
good parking spot
noise in car not cause for huge concern
priase you video (fatboy slim)
youtube
videos on flickr
time to read
caramels !
new clothes
cuddly nighttime kitty
healthy babies all around

there’s an idea out there that men’s public bathrooms are messier and more gross than women’s. i’m not sure i buy it. i’ve seen women’s bathrooms at well-run venues which i’ve been afraid to step into.

anyhow, this isn’t about that bathroom, this is about our work bathroom. a couple weeks ago there was a furiously whispered conference in the hall upstairs between a couple women and our office manager (also a woman). moments later office manager sent an email to all the women in the office, marked private, reminding us to please clean up after ourselves after using the toilet — make sure the protective tissue paper and whatever else is in the bowl flushes.

i almost replied to all asking them to please try to dry up some of the lake of water they leave on the counter top, too, but then thought better of it. that sort of behaviour gets me labeled as “passive aggressive” although WHY anyone thinks directly asking for what you want is passive is beyond me. but, that’s another post.

anyhow, today when i went in there was already someone else in one of the stalls. i went into another and started attending to business when the other person shuffled her clothes, walked out of the stall and then out of the bathroom. and that was all. she didn’t FLUSH! she didn’t wash her hands. she just. walked. out.

now, having known someone who was paranoid of public places (who actively worried about how to get OUT of the bathroom without touching anything and thereby catching a fatal illness) i think i can imagine her thought process. you see, bathrooms are dirty. they have germs all over as evidenced by unflushed toilets and pools of water all over the counter around the sink. what those minds fail to grasp is that if everyone would just sit down and make sure the paper goes in the toilet and flush (with follow up flushes if necessary) and wash their hands and mop up their drips - then the bathroom wouldn’t be a filthy mess!

unrelatedly (or maybe not since it’s frequently left behind - used), i’d like to see the data on how many germs that tissue paper actually blocks.

breath held
in
an.tic.ipation
(any second now)
wait

then
engines fire
bolts explode
rockets (bodies) shake and

breathe
quiet
peace
stillness

i’m in a bad mood today. i got my tax stuff from my tax dude, and boy, do i owe some taxes! the real problem is that i mis-estimated the amount i should be setting aside from each check. which means, i’ll have to get a loan. plus, my property tax is higher than estimated, too. soooo. i’ll have to be paying on the “surprise tax” loan, setting aside more money from each check to prevent future surprises of the same ilk, and raise my mortgage payment each month to be sure i’m not surprised by property taxes either.

all of which is to say, if you don’t see much of me in the coming… oh, year or so… it’s cause i can’t afford to leave the house.

i had a bad dream last night, too. unrelated to taxes, but very much related to dating. so i woke up frustrated with myself for making poor dream choices, and then remembered i made some poor financial choices irl. as a result, i’m feeling rather barfy and unhappy today. fair warning.

a flame moves through
my city

everybody notices a fire

fire warms you
fire destroys
fire creates space for something new

after the quake the city burned
a different flame passed through the streets today
a flame of hope, brotherhood, and perseverance

maybe it was not so different after all

dropped the ball
on the writing
because i’m grumpy
i want that look again
i want it to stay
but i’m linus laraby
i’m captain reynolds
i’m temperance
and that’s a one third chance at best

my community is having a conversation about spending time alone, which was suggested as a conversation about not being in a relationship but has quickly moved to something much easier to talk about.

one woman wrote the following as part of her response:

Americans are “low” context, we say what we mean explicitly, we avoid subtley, and am uncomfortable with silence in group settings. “high” context cultures, for example the Japanese, it is not so much *what* is said but *how* it is said, things do not have to be said outloud to be understood, and maintaining a good relationship is valued above speaking what is meant.

this is exactly how i feel here in california, except replace ‘American’ with ‘Texan’ and ‘Japanese’ with ‘Californian’. and skip that part about any of it being understood. i hear people complain about someone in particular, how frustrated and upset they are, but if that person walks in the room they’re full of hugs and “so good to see you”s.

i’m still trying to get my head around it.