Resigned with Resignation

My contract job has been requesting that I work a five-day work week for them.

The reason is two fold:

• One, there is a pant load and a shit ton of work to be completed. My extra day helps. 
• Two, it looks good. My boss is trying to create a full time position for me, and me being here full time makes it appear that I want to be here full time so the powers that be may consider me for a full time position. 

Which meant one thing. I would have to resign my job at the Cooking School. So Doug and I talked about it, and I talked to Jo, and resigned.  I felt horrible and conflicted about it. I love working there. I love everyone who works there. But I've been praying for a full time job opportunity, and this could very well be the one.

So, hithertoforth, I no longer work at "awesome" as I called it. Here's to hoping this contract turns into "awesome too." or ... "awesome 2." Or something.

One year and 3 weeks...

Earn a total of 21 merit badges (10 more than you already have), including the following:

a. First Aid

b. Citizenship in the Community

c. Citizenship in the Nation

d. Citizenship in the World

e. Communication

f. Personal Fitness

g. Emergency Preparedness OR Lifesaving*

h. Environmental Science

i. Personal Management

j. Swimming OR Hiking OR Cycling*

k. Camping, and

l. Family Life

This is the list of Merit Badges that Geoff has finished. He just got Personal Fitness done today. I'm wondering if he can do it, if he can turn on the turbo and get the jets going.

He has one year and three weeks until he turns 18. 

Add to the middle of this that he needs to design and execute an Eagle Service Project. I'm a little nervous. 

Hmmm. 

"It is a good day to be under 5."

The other day at the doctor's office, we were sitting in the waiting room where a dad and his two children were waiting their turn to go in and get flu shots. The little boy, Thomas, was 5 and a half. Caroline was 3. Dad was entertaining them and everyone was having a lovely time. The nurse came out to get them to do their shots, and said that she didn't have any in stock for the 3 year old, but that anyone "aged 5 and over" can come on in.

Doug turns to me and says "It is a good day to be under 5, I guess."

We heard the dad say that he wanted to go first. The nurse, who has been our doctor's nurse for as long as we've known him (mark this - he was our doctor in college, so since 1987 at least) stammered a little and said "we don't usually do it that way."

Dad wanted to show the little boy it was no big deal to get the shot, and insisted.

Big mistake.

Thing is, with 20 something years of experience the nurses know that if you do the kids first they don't know what's coming and boom it is done. Seeing a needle go into your dad's arm, even if he doesn't freak out or panic or say "ouchies," is still something that a little kid may find disturbing.

And Thomas did.

He lost his mind. SCREAMING and crying and "I'm not ready!" and "I really don't want or need this shot after all!" Dad and the nurse were both trying to calm him and get him focused, but there was no joy in Mudville at that moment. Poor Thomas.

 Doug and I both sat there chuckling uncomfortably, because you have this instinct to go in and try and help but you also know that really it is no big deal.

We talked about whether or not we remembered Geoff freaking out for shots and we didn't. He usually did incredibly well. Mostly because our doctor gave the shot, and would do something distracting to the kid like "hey, look at that thing on the wall, can you see that picture of the dog?" and the kid turns and looks at the picture and boom - done. "ouch!" a little surprise but usually no panic or upset as the lollipop appears or mommy gives the hug.

Thomas' meltdown went on and on for quite some time, and then we heard deep and most horrible sobbing as he got his flu shot.

The adult "that wasn't so bad!" response from the nurse and the dad did nothing to help. He was devastated. I'm wondering how much it really hurt or if he had knowledge that he freaked out over something so small that he was now ashamed and embarrassed, thus the tears.

I was in my appointment room getting my blood pressure taken (112/77 baby) and Doug reported that a flushed-red little blonde Thomas came out of the room, his sister leading the way. She tip toed up to the lollipops and got each of them one.

He said she didn't seem phased at all by witnessing the near mutilation and murduration of her older brother.

Truly, a good day to be under 5.

Hi, Knee

On Thursday at work, I found myself limping. My right knee just hurt like a bastard whenever I stood up after sitting for a long stretch of time. I had driven in that day, so I was very excited about not having a .6 mile walk to the car... throughout the day I stood up, stretched my leg, got tea, walked around the floor. Usually if my knee is sore, which it has been lately, use makes it feel better.

Later this month I have a physical scheduled where I was going to ask my doctor about arthritis, RA or osteo, because both run in my family.

Upon arrival home Thursday night, after an exceptionally stressful (and knee pain filled) commute home, I had to run out to deliver wreaths to some folks who had ordered them from Geoff's BSA  Troop.

I got to one house, stepped up on the first porch step and heard the pop, felt the pop, and crumbled to the next step on my left knee.

My knee basically exploded in pain - I thought for a second as I pulled myself up to a standing position "well, I hope that was just something out of place and now it has corrected itself."

But no. It wasn't. I stood on the porch having a conversation with the person who had ordered the wreath, smiled and said I had to go pick Geoff up at Scouts and limped down the steps back to the truck.

I couldn't put any pressure on my leg, I kind of skip/hopped to the car door and was panting in pain as I lifted my leg into the vehicle. I couldn't pull myself up in, so I took my leg out, rotated and hopped butt-first into the seat to then swing my legs in.

Holy crap, pain.

Driving wasn't hard -- I could use my foot ok and shifting my leg to the brakes was no problem... I made it to Scouts, got Geoff, and we headed home.

Doug and I discussed whether or not I should go to the emergency room or just RICE (or, ECRI as the order was that we approached the first aid) the knee and I'd sleep on the couch. We opted for the latter, because spending 4 hours in the emergency room with a 100 dollar copay to maybe be told to go home and RICE it sounded stupid.

We got in first thing to see our PCP, and she thinks I have an enclosed dislocation of the patella.  Meaning somehow that my patella has moved... she thinks possibly from a build up of fluids behind it that burst (hence the popping). She doesn't think I have a strained or torn ACL, MCL, PCL or any other L, or torn tendons or anything. I have good range of motion, it's all in the standing and walking.

She referred me to an orthopaedist. And they can't see me until Monday. Had we gone to the emergency room, we would have at least had X-rays done so she could see them, and maybe be able to tell more because I don't know if I have an enclosed dislocation of my patella. But I'm not a doctor. What do I know?

So, short term means I am in Knee Jail. My doctor told me I am not to leave the house, and am to stay off the foot, the leg, the knee, the walking until I leave for the orthopaedist on Monday morning.

I'm on the couch, sleeping with my knee elevated, and feeling the pain when I walk around. Doug bought me a cane, which was nice of him but I feel like a big huge fat old crippled lady. I'm really pissed off because I had gotten into a great nice routine of walking (unless it was pouring/icy rain) every day to and from the subway and train. I was going to the gym at least once a week, usually with Geoff on Sundays if the 4pm football games did not include Patriots or Steelers. I'd gotten back on track with losing some weight.

Isn't it always right when you join a gym that you go and injure the hell out of yourself? jeesh.

I'm sure that this will all be okay, a temporary set back. I'm just kind of frustrated because I missed work Friday, will miss work Monday, and who knows what the ortho is going to say.

My big fear is that maybe I will need to have PT three times a week and God only knows when that is going to fit into a life schedule. I should research if there is a PT place close to my office. I know there is one across the street from North Station.

And an even bigger fear is the possibility of surgery. Good grief. I've put off having surgery on my abdomen until maybe this summer (based on trying to save money, pay bills, get ahead now that I have this contract job) so I don't know if they will keep me if I have to have outpatient surgery and 2 weeks recovery or some shit.

Ugh.

Anyway. They used to say "Calgon, take me away," but today I'll say "Vicodin, take me away" and take a big assed nap. 

And like that, Thanksgiving happened

So here we are, Tuesday after Thanksgiving. December already. Having a hard time wrapping my head around this. I'm out of sorts a little, because Thanksgiving and Hanukkah happened at the same time instead of Hanukkah happening closer to Christmas. I feel my Away in a Manger has been robbed of its Baruch ata Adonai, eloheinu melech a o'lam as it were.

It is so weird.

We spent Thanksgiving with my parents, and it was a really nice time. Mom ordered everything out from Stop n Shop, which was very unlike her, but I guess I should get used to her wanting to scale back the hosting and entertaining portion of things since they are getting on. My dad's health issues this past year have put a toll on them, and it was great to be hosted. My dad didn't feel like coming up here, and they had an offer to go to my great uncle's down the Cape, but they passed on it because even though it is just 10 miles from their house, my dad just felt it was too much.

We had a lovely visit. Some great laughs. I microwaved all the side dishes. I incorrectly loaded the dishwasher and my mom reloaded it when she thought I was not looking.

I wonder where we will be this time next year and I shudder to think.

So, rather than think about that, we went to the New England Aquarium on Saturday. You may remember I gave a woman 13 bucks for her groceries, and she gave me four passes to the Aquarium. I had wanted to go the weekend before my birthday, but it didn't work out. Mostly because I slept that Saturday until 10:30am.

But beside that.

The passes expired on the 30th, which was this Saturday and damnit, the hell I was gonna lose out on that 13 dollars worth of nice that I gave out! That lady gave me passes to the Aquarium and even if I had to take three strangers I was gonna go to the freaking Aquarium.

On Thanksgiving when I told Geoff that's what we were gonna do he said "The Aquarium is for little kids and slow adults." It took me a minute or five to realize he was insulting my enthusiasm for the institution, and we all had one of those good laughs but I told myself that he'd enjoy himself. Oh yes. He would.

Shakes fist softly at The Boy.

We all were up and out the door, ready to go at like 11 am which is pretty damn good for the four of us. I made bacon and omelets for everyone. It was a great way to start the day!

The passes were accepted (to be honest, in the back of my mind I was scared that they wouldn't be, but all went well) and we made our way in. The seals outside were adorable as always. And the trek up around the giant central tank was lovely. It was nice to watch all the people silhouetted against the gorgeous blue of the tank.

And most notably, my son.

Who is the little kid or slow adult now, eh?

Before I left I mentioned on FB that we were headed that way and our "son" Byron's girlfriend squeed with delight that they were also headed there.

For those who remember, Byron was in "Hamlet" with Jess (Byron, Jess and Nick were the kids from her HS who did Hamlet that year and I think it was a wonderful experience for the three of them together... I know it was for me, and I'll never forget the time I spent with them being Mamma G to that cast).

We were there for quite a while and I was worried that we wouldn't connect with B and his girlfriend M but they found us. It was a joyous reunion next to the penguins.

Several extra visits to the Skate and Shark petting tank later and we were on our way home.

I don't think we'd been to the Aquarium since Geoff was in diapers, so this was a lot of fun.

For thankfulness, Thanksgiving time a lot of people talk about what they are thankful for. Some folks did 30 days of Thankfulness on their blogs or on their FB statuses.

I didn't participate in that. I've had a shit year. I recognize and embrace that. But even in the middle of a year that is "all a lot of oysters but no pearls," I need to pause and stop and be thankful.

So.

I'm thankful that my kids have some friends, and that we have time continued with my dad after the shenanigans of health he's perpetuated on us over the past several months. I'm thankful that I got called out of nowhere to this temporary gig at the beginning of October that is running through at least the end of January and hopefully will turn into a real job. I'm so thankful for my Girl C for her kindness to me and for someone to always talk to and walk with when I have the time. I'm thankful for my dear friend Beth who now is my across the street neighbor, and gives me free chicken eggs. I'm thankful for my church, even with the flaws of the people within. I'm thankful for Guster. No seriously, I am. I think their music gets me through so very much.

And I am thankful for Jellyfish. Because they are bad ass ...

And, just like that, I am 47

My birthday was yesterday. I turned 47. I realized that in keeping this journal over the years it has been literally a quarter of my life thus far. Kind of super crazy.

In the past I've enjoyed a stellar meteor shower for my birthday, and I've gone to see Barenaked Ladies and Ed Robertson made me cry.

This year was incredibly quiet, and some would say boring. But I am okay with that.

I've been working in Boston, and on Tuesdays Doug and I drive in together. He gets me to the Wellington T station in the morning, and I schlep in on the T. I then await a call from him that says he is done for the day and headed my direction if I want a ride home.

I have the option to tell him to head north, or to tell him to come get me.

He came to me and got to my office before 5pm, which is typically unheard of, but traffic was kind. He scored a spot in front of my office, again... unheard of. I came down to meet him and we talked about our food options.

Directly at the end of the block is a place called Tavern Road Restaurant, so we opted to go there.

Dinner was delicious. I have never had marrow butter and now want it all day (it's like gravy, for those who don't know what it is, so don't be thinking I am making butter out of animal bone marrow... gravy. think gravy. you like gravy... and you'd love marrow butter).

We were home by 7:30.

I was asleep by 9:30.

Welcome to 47.

Overheard on the corner of Dorchester Avenue and Congress Street

Gentleman in a very very nice business suit, outside the back entrance of the Federal Reserve Bank, leaning on the railing overlooking the channel. Cellphone to his ear, begins pacing back and forth as I approach.

And then he says loudly:

"Really, Really. Did that motherfucker tell the Feds that I was the one that took the money? He's a piece of work, I tell you. A fucking piece of work." 

He tells the guy on the other end to hang on as I pass. I get about 20 feet down Congress and he turns his back and begins ranting. I can't hear him over the traffic. I have no idea what is now being said.

Intriguing.

Near Dewey Square, or ... the smelliest day ever.

Today, I was yelled at by a man because I had on a sourpuss face.

I was walking behind someone who was smoking. It was a particularly smelly and disgusting cigarette. Most of the time outdoors smoking doesn't bother me but I have no idea what kind of carpet fibers and cat litter this guy was smoking, it was NASTY. I was trying to get around him, trying to figure out a way to stop breathing. I knew I had on a great horrible "feh" facial expression. I could feel it all over me. My disdain was creeping down into my chest, my throat, and I felt like I might just lean over and puke into the parking lane (it wouldn't be the first time the parking lane outside South Station was puked upon...)

A man walking in the opposite direction, towards me, slowed down enough to make eye contact. He had this distinct look of incredulity on his face, and as I got closer, he said "What the FUCK is your problem? SMILE FOR GOD'S SAKE ALREADY! IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" With the last line he threw his arms up in the air, and continued on his way.

Not exactly my idea of spreading kindness and good cheer in the streets of Boston but ... I guess my face called for something. And in spite of the stench, I couldn't help but start laughing.

Crossed the street immediately and got whiffs of diesel, coffee, the Channel and sunshine. Which all smelled much better and subdued my desire to vomit.

Edit:
Yesterday's smell fest only got worse. Somehow a sewer stench was coming up our elevator shaft. The receptionist on the main level truly had it bad having to spend the day there sniffing it, and dealing with the people coming in asking what the smell was. Someone microwaved something awful. That was great. Then, there was the burned popcorn.

Something I did not miss about working in an office building was other people's food choices and burned popcorn.

The Subway had a special dose of fresh hell for me in the form of a particularly gorgeous woman standing beside me with the worst breath I've ever smelled in my life. I thought it was me so I had a piece of gum. I should have offered her one, because it was not me.

On the way home, I told Doug about all of my olfactory insults. We were on I-95 just north of our former exit, headed towards Newburyport. My guess is we were still in Georgetown, possibly Byfield, maybe even in Newbury.

The smell entered the car - we weren't sure if we'd passed very ripe roadkill, an overturned trash truck, an kicked over porta pottie from the construction going on or what. The gaseous cloud invaded the vehicle. We started screaming. Doug rolled the windows down to get air circulating through the car. The freezing cold air was rank. We ran for miles up the highway yelling at the top of our lungs about the stink.

"This truly is the smelliest day ever!" my husband yelled at the top of his lungs.

Eventually, the stench faded. We put the windows back up. I thought maybe the smell had sunk into my clothing, my pores. It was horrifying.

Indeed. Yesterday was the smelliest day ever.

Commuting Observation

So, one of the things that I've been neglecting to share is something I have noticed while commuting: People bring a lot of luggage with them.

I'm often surprised by the lady with a pocket book/shoulder bag, a laptop case and a little suitcase on wheels that they're dragging around behind them, or the guy with the rolly suitcase, the gym bag and the laptop case. I watch them navigate down the train aisle... bumping into everyone and trying not to, or just bull in china shop motoring through the train station to get where they're going fast.

People travel to work on a daily basis with more stuff than I take away on a week's vacation. 

And I have to ask... do we really need that much crap? I mean, maybe they're lawyers and they have a ton of stuff in the rolly case paperwork wise that they HAVE to bring with them places. But I get the feeling sometimes that it is gym clothes (the dead give away is the yoga mat strapped to the side of the suitcase).

When they get to their destination, do they really use all that stuff or is it a just in case situation. Maybe there is a change of clothes to go out somewhere fancy after work with the girls.

Maybe they never get a chance to get to the gym, or go out for cocktails at Nebo, because they're always just too busy.

But... they're prepared.

Home

Today I stayed home from work. Got my period on Thursday and fully believed that the 24 hour pain fest would start on Saturday afternoon and end on Sunday. Well, it started when I anticipated, and still goes on. So I called out, losing a day's pay.

But there is an upside. Our landlord had a call in to the furnace dudes on Friday and they didn't make it here over the weekend, so... I was home to meet the guy this morning and our furnace is now working. Which is good. Because it was 20 degrees outside this morning, and possibly 40 in my bedroom.

Curled up in bed with three dogs surrounding me, 40 degrees is doable. Down in the livingroom the space heater was cranking and when I got up I started the woodstove, so the place was manageable. I can imagine people living like this over the course of a winter in an old farm house like this. I can't imagine single digits or negative temps... that I couldn't do. But ... no complaints from me this morning. I'm happy it worked out this way.