... or Naughty Monkily ... something.

I love my new job.  I REALLY love my new job.  I like the company.  I like the people.  I like the work.  It's really nice. 

The new schedule is eating into my online time like you wouldn't believe.  Or maybe you would because you can see how much I haven't been around lately. 

The kids only have a couple more weeks until they head back to school.  So I'm hoping that things will settle down, but past experience being the best predictor of future behavior suggests that my hope is misplaced. 

Anyway, I'm showing up tonight blatantly in hope of getting something from you.  A donation.  Not a big one.  Really.  Just $5 to fight breast cancer.  Our workplace cheerleader announced this afternoon that we will be forming a team for "DenimDay" which is October 3.  Our team is encouraging people to donate $5.  We want to get 100 people signed up and donating to fight breast cancer with a team goal of $500 raised.  Now, if you check out the link I'll be posting here in a few more lines, you'll notice that SOME of the people on the list have obviously donated more than $5 because the fundraiser was announced this afternoon and by the time I left work we already had $300 in our team account.  (And if we meet our goal, the CEO has given permission for the cast of thousands to all wear denim to work that day - ordinarily a BIG no no.  I don't care about the jeans, I just want to see us raising money to fight breast cancer.)

Please think about it, click the link and donate at least $5. 

 http://www.denimday.com/team_page.aspx?tid=221751 

Remember the scene from Ghostbusters when the demon-god from outer space thing told them to "choose the form of the destroyer?"  And everyone was carefully keeping a blank mind and then Dan Akroyd had a thought? 

He couldn't help it and he couldn't get it out of his mind. 

Wellllllll - Many thanks Rainbow - I can't stop singing,

"Her name is Lola,
she was a show girl,
yellow feathers in her hair,
and a dress cut down to there. 
She would merengue
and do the cha-cha
and while she tried to be a star
Tony always tended bar
across the crowded floor
they were young and they had each other
who could ask for more ..."

I was humming it this morning on the way to church so the boys asked what I was singing.  I explained it to them.  On the way home from church ... it came on the radio.  Now its starting to feel like the Stay Puft Marshmallow man.  Regardless of what we tried to think, we can only think ... Lola ...

I mentioned that if we are going to call her Lola we should download the tune.  Michael said, "okay, but you're putting it on YOUR iPod, not mine."

Humph, kids, who told them they were entitled to opinions.

*****
I got the bills from my visit to the ER.  Altogether?  $2,030 to learn that it was the medicine I'd paid $100 for the week before that caused the problem.

*****
So what did I do?  Here I am with my new Lola Victoria Baby.  And my savings account more than decimated (you know that to decimate means to thin by 10% right?).  So what did I do last night?  I bought shoes.  I admit, I love the shoes, they are JUST TOO CUTE, but I also love the brand name. 

Naughty Monkey. 

Don't that just make you smile?  And on the sole they have a Naughty Monkey logo so if you walk on soft sand, or wet cement, someone's behind, or something you'll leave behind a Naughty Monkey imprint. 

My new baby is a Ford Escape.  Although it's an SUV the mileage is better than I was getting in my Sunfire and there's leg and headroom for my boys.  Michael is 5'11" already with more growth spurts coming and Tucker looks like he'll be almost that tall. 

I'm still taking naming suggestions in the blog below. 

She's got to have a name!

(Oh, and I was asked how I know she's a SHE - I looked.)

I love my new job. 

I love the work.  I love the people I'm working with.  I love my boss so much I can't WAIT to give her a Christmas Present. 

I love my new car. 

Yes, I bought a new car.  I know, I know, no one with any financial sense buys a NEW car, but they were offering so many rebates and incentives on this one that I could get a new one for the same price Carmax was asking for one two years old with 24,000 miles on it. 

She doesn't have a name yet ... but she will.  Any suggestions?  I'm kind of leaning toward Agnes ... or Abigail ... or maybe Suzette.  What do you think?

 I've talked about the quilting project I'm a part of that provides a child sized quilt with a matching bag for foster children and other children in need.  (I've recently learned that the agency also servis children who's parent's are in prison and families who are in crisis for other reasons).  Sunday was the presentation day for our quilts at church and as soon as I can arrange it, we'll deliver another "shipment" to "our" kids. 

I thought you'd like to see some photos of the ones I completed this time. 

Our goal was to have 48 sets ready for delivery.  We have 64. 

It feels really good to be a part of something like this. 

* * * * * * * * * *

And speaking of being a part of something to help someone else.  I now have 81,000 credits.  I'm 4/5 of the way to free lifetime.   I am doing surveys as often as they will let me, but many thousands of those credits have been donated by you.  Thank you for helping. 

* * * * * * * * * *

I have a dilemma with my car.  It died yesterday.  Now, there's a chance that it's a dead battery problem.  Or maybe a dead alternator problem.  Or maybe a dead computer problem.  The car is a 2002 model and has almost 100,000 miles on it.  I paid cash for it ($4200) four years ago and haven't had to put in much beyond routine maintenance since.  It was a rebuilt wreck to start with, so it doesn't have any monetary value.  My resources are getting really thin with this business of spending 6 weeks without employment.  Should I put money into diagnosig and fixing this car?  Or use my money as a downpayment on a new (to me) car?

Upside of fixing it - it may last another four years without a major problem thus saving me the cost of monthly car payments.

Upside of buying a car - lower miles, more reliable, and having an installment loan will give me a mix of credit that will raise my credit score so I may be able to get better terms on a house loan in a year or two. 

* * * * * * **  * * * *

Started my new job today.  All I've done so far is orientation but it's made me even more enthusiastic about this company.  They have the best, most family friendly benefits I've ever seen.  AND they have the BEST checking account product in the entire country right now.  www.turbochecking.com  People from all 50 states have these accounts, they are administered online so they are easy, and they PAY you INTEREST.  6.01%.  That's not a typo.  On balances from $100 to $25,000 they pay 6.01%.  Of course there are rules, but they aren't the kind of rules that I can't live with. 

1. Have a direct deposit into the account OR one automatic debit per month.
2. Make at least 10 debit card transactions monthly (excluding ATM withdrawals)
3. Receive your monthly statement electronically.
4. Access online banking at least once a month.

In addition to the 6.01% interest, you get FREE ATM use nationwide (any fees deducted at the time of the transation are refunded at the end of the month.)  1.01% APY on any balance over $25,000.  Overdraft Privilege.  Free Online Bill Pay.

Wells Fargo, it's been nice knowin' ya ... but I've met somebody new. 

Photo taken from the walking path along the Oauchita River, Malvern, Arkansas, July 1, 2008.

It's the season for family reunions.  I hope you are enjoying yours as much as we enjoyed ours!  In the first place, my family is pretty cool.  We have the usual assortment of fruits and nuts that you'd think would just irritate each other, but we all have fun together.  Now it's occuring to me that maybe the ones we wouldn't have fun with just choose not to come, but we also had a pretty good attendance. 

My parents have a 6 acre place just on the edge of town.  They've erected a pavilion in the backyard that covers enough tables to seat at least 150 people.  There are celing fans, a restroom attached to it, and a summer kitchen.  (Although mostly we just use the refrigerator.)  My sister decorated the pavilion with red, white and blue and hung strings of lights around for night-time. 

The permanent features of the backyard include swings, a trampoline, benches in the shade, flowers, and rocking chairs on the back porch.  For the reunion, Mom also rented a giant Slip-n-Slide inflatable for the kids (some of whom were in their 40's) to play on. 

We had game night, at one point there were eight people gathered around playing bananagrams - from 7 to 61 and all were having a blast.  I was kicked out after I won two hands in a row.  We had tables set up indoors with jigsaw puzzles, two or three people would gravitate in, work a few pieces, talk a bit then wander out.  During the reunion we completed three Thomas Kinkade puzzles that way.

We had dinner entertainment, my sisters, cousin Julie, cousin Zoe (Laurie's daughter) and I all sang patriotic songs and favorite family hymns.  We took hikes along the River just down from where my parents live.  And the last afternoon everyone was encouraged to head out to area attractions so they could enjoy some of the other things that Arkansas offers.

A few images from the shindig:

Laurie posing in front of the decorated pavilion.

Julie jumping on the trampoline.

Julie laughing with disbelief that she's been jumping on the trampoline.

The crowd gathers

 
Redneck fireworks.  (I promised I wouldn't put this on YouTube, but I said nothing about a Blog-a-torium )

The youngest attendee - clutching her hotdog in one hand and powdered drink mix-in in the other.  I don't think the mix-in was ever opened, and I don't think she ever actually ate the dog, but she got to have the trampoline all to herself for a while and she was happy with that.

I was reading an article in O magazine this afternoon about writing memoir.  There were eight examples of short memoir-type stories in the magazine and I immediately realized that they were all themed.  My life with dogs, my life with the Black Experience, my life with embarrassment, my life with my inability to sort out memory from imagination ...

I think I could write a memoir of death.  The times I've dreamt of dying.  The times I've dreamt of my funeral.  The times I've dreamt of other people dying.  Real people who did die and the funerals I attended. 

The list would be incomplete without the story of my son, Michael, officiating at a funeral for a hamster.  The hamster was carefully wrapped in tissues and placed in an empty checks box.  Tucker picked several dandelions which lay wilting on the little coffin.  The three of us stood there in a semi-circle.

Michael opened the service with the Pledge of Allegiance.  He then segued smoothly into what he could remember of the Our Father, and he ended with "And for this food which we are about to eat, we offer our thanks..."  The box was then scraped off the island of the kitchen into the garbage.  That appeared to be the end of it all, the kids went on about their business.

Tucker used to conduct funerals for the people who tried to ride his bus.  I'd bought him a Little People school bus with blobby little people who all looked alike except for the color of their clothes and the occasional addition of a ball cap.  He would load the bus, careen it wildly through the kitchen until it tipped up on two wheels and then it would slowly roll over.  And over.  In the end, all the Little People who were thrown clear were pronounced dead at the scene. 

Sometimes there wouldn't be anyone thrown out and that called for the use of the toy ambulance to transport the unluckiest ones who would then be pronounced dead at the hospital.  Tucker liked the part of informing the family ... "There might have been more we could have done, but the Dr. was really busy today and couldn't come in."

And then he would conduct the final services for the dearly departed.  He was about 5 years old when this was his favorite way to play.  I was never so glad when he grew out of it. 

There are few things in our culture which fascinate us and from which we are any more removed than death.  Most people have the good manners to die in hospitals and/or on someone else's watch so by the time we get involved they've been all cleaned up and made to look "natural."  And ain't that the weirdest thing.  Dead people should not look as though they are dressed up and waiting on their date but just happened to fall asleep in a box.  They should look dead. 

I know that not everyone will agree with me, but I'm convinced that I'd have fewer nightmares about "dead" people waking in their coffins wondering why they overslept the alarm if we'd just let them look like what they are.  Gone.

I'm also in favor of more "do it yourself" funeral programmes.  How many of us have been to a funeral where the officiating minister called the dearly departed by the wrong name?  The first time I remember being aware of that happening was when I was 25 and attended the funeral of my high school friend, Belinda.  The minister called her "Melissa" through the whole thing.  Which alternately horrified me and gave me the surreal sensation of having wandered into the wrong nightmare. 

Or maybe the minister says something which reveals an utter lack of knowledge of the person's life and character.  As at my Granny's funeral when the guy actually said, "Dear Mary (okay, yeah, her name WAS Mary, but NO ONE called her that.  Even those of us who didn't call her Granny, referred to her by her preferred name of Annie) was a sweet quiet woman who never spoke an ill word of her neighbors." 

My Granny was the hub of all gossip in her little community for at least the last 78 years of her 87 year long life.  She started her career when she was a child on the school bus and took it to hitherto unscaled heights based on her powers of observation, eavesdropping, and innuendo..  I'm pretty sure that her match will never be again and she would have been appalled that at her funeral she received no credit for her work. 

An appropriate funeral programme might have been better conducted by the friends and family who loved her dearly, were entertained by her antics, and who would miss her the most.  We'd have gotten her name right and given credit where it was due.  Let the minister stand at the door and hand out tissues. 

I've been looking around at the memoirs on the shelves this summer.  Between Augusten Burroughs' "Wolf at the Table" and David Sedaris', "When you are engulfed in flames".  I'm noticing a trend toward the macabre.  There's one entitled, "The Thing about Life is that One Day You'll Be Dead" which contains the cheery lines "After you turn 7, your risk of dying doubles every eight years... By your 80s, you "no longer even have a distinctive odor ... You're vanishing."

I think I'm on to something here.  People aren't just weird, they have a sick fascination with death and true death stories.  I'll bet I could tell a few.

Because we were apart for our birthday, Michael and I chose to celebrate the milestones today.  He's now 14, I'm now 45.  Amazing.  We took a vote and decided to go to a movie.  Then we took another vote and decided to see Hellboy II.  Aunt Cheryl played the dvd of Hellboy the First when we were there last week and we decided that we could probably handle it. 

Tucker is the biggest movie wuss ever - next to me.  The way he dealt with the movie was to think of it in terms of being a video game with successive bosses for Hellboy to defeat.  He made it fine through all the battle scenes but when Ron Perlman started singing Barry Manilow songs it was too much for him.  He couldn't take the horror of it anymore and excused himself to the bathroom. 

...

Lambchops.

...

I've been making use of my time at home this week teaching the boys and reinforcing skills they haven't used in a year or more to prepare them to take care of themselves while I'm at work.  Tucker has been cooking bacon in the microwave, and they have both been doing daily chores. 

In addition, I've been making sure I have everything in place that I need, including a new lunch box so I can "brown bag" it.  Only when I went to the store it's apparently not the season for lunch boxes.  I found a small black one that I could imagine some poor spouse packing for a partner who was embarrassed to be carrying lunch from home and trying to pretend that maybe it was just an exotic day planner.  And I found a pink Dora the Explorer and a purple Tinker Bell box.  That wasn't a hard decision. 

Tucker looked at it and with his usual tact said, "mom, that really sucks."  I told him that it was either that or Dora and he said, "Well, obviously you had to have Tinker Bell, but it would have been better if it was plain purple.  Or maybe purple with some of that beadazzler stuff."  I'm so proud. 

...

Since vacation I've been inspired to try cooling new recipes.  Or at least serve my old ones with fancy presentations.  I've discovered that I can make pretty decent (RotKohl) Red Cabbage.  And my paprikish stood up well too.  Tucker and Michael both had seconds.  There are a couple other recipes I tried that I'll have to adjust for altitude.  And I'm looking forward to learning new things and trying out more challenging recipes over the coming weeks and months.

...

I'm convinced I know which medication provoked the allergic reaction.  The Dr in Arkansas prescribed an antihistamine I'd never taken before.  And though I stopped taking everything else, I took ONE more dose of it even after the whole day spent in the ER because the rash itched so that it was maddening.  THEN it occurred to me that I should look it up and see what the possible side effects of it are and guess what was at the top of the list?  "If patient develops a rash, discontinue use IMMEDIATELY."  And I'd taken it for a WEEK at that point. 

I'm lucky my whole skin didn't melt away like the wicked witch of the west in a rain shower.  I discontinued the use of the antihistamine and the rash is clearing up although my back still itches in that one spot that you can never reach no matter how you contort your body. 

...

Red Bicycle Rose is better than birthday cake.

...

The boys and I sat around our table tonight and told stories of each other.  Things I remembered from their baby years.  Things they remembered.  Things we love about each other.  It was good.  Once or twice we were doing that 'laughter through your tears' thing. 

...

Important thing that it's taken me 45 years to learn:  Just because I'm tired of suffering and want it to end, doesn't mean I'm willing to give up the behaviors that lead to suffering.

I've had a love/hate relationship with my food for years.  I like food, I enjoy excellent preparation and fresh ingredients, and I appreciate the artistry of fine dining.  I really only discovered that last bit when I was in Chicago.  In my entire life, I'd never eaten at a truly FINE restaurant until then.  (Although there was this one Steakhouse in Denver that came pretty close.) 

My dinner consisted of four courses and took over two hours to be served, savored, and consumed.  The portions weren't large by any means but neither were they so small that I felt unsatisfied at the end.  And it was just so beautiful.  Dinner was a production not unlike a clever theater show.

I've had two weeks to contemplate the experience and I have a new resolution.  I will NOT buy a gallon of bland ice cream when what I really want is one of those little tiny cups of Ben and Jerry's.  I will NOT consume a pound of potato chips when what I really want is an ounce of excellently prepared soup with my sandwich.  I will not settle for what is cheap and plentiful at the sacrifice of that which costs a little more in expense and effort. 

I drank in Chicago with big gulps.  I walked, I looked, (okay, I gawked like the tourist I was) and I enjoyed myself immensely.  I was so busy drinking in the sights, sounds, and experiences that than once I realized at the end of the day I'd only stopped for one meal all day long.  And I wasn't hungry. 

Okay, maybe a little hungry, but not starved. 

So I learned something about myself that I've read and heard in all kinds of weight loss programs and never really grasped this way before.  I have been eating for reasons other than physical hunger.  I've been eating to try to satisfy my spirit.  My spirit doesn't need food.  My spirit needs art, literature, beautiful things to look at and to engage my imagination.  My spirit needs companionship, laughter, and hugs.  My spirit doesn't need a cheeseburger!  Not even one. 

My rash continues to thrive.  After lunch today, I asked Michael to please nurse me by applying a soothing lotion to my back.  The relief was so immediate and intense that I fell asleep and dreamt for two hours. 

It was a strange and wonderful dream of an angel trapped in a cave.  The poor angel had taken refuge there after being injured and during the long sleep required for healing some people had unknowingly sealed the creature in by building a barn on top of the cave.  So at long last the angel wakes and begins to reach out for help communicating telepathically with a child who lives nearby.  The child is understandably disturbed by the "thing beneath the barn".  And through many trials and errors an understanding is achieved and the angel is released in all it's terrible glory. 

Isn't that a cool dream?  Way better than the one last night that involved racially motivated murder. 

I hope your day was good. 

"Come, whoever you are! Wanderer,
Worshipper, Lover of Leaving. Come, this
is not a caravan of despair.  It doesn't
matter if you've broken your vow a
thousand times.  Still, and yet again,
come, come."

Rumi

I have been a wanderer, but not lost.  I have done so much over the past two weeks (plus a couple of days) that I hardly know how to avoid turning this into one of those really boring sessions where you look at other people's vacation pictures.  So I'll skip over some of the details and tell you the pertinent end results

1. shoes - YES!
2. fancy food - YES!
3. sex with strangers - NO! but thank you for asking ...
4. resolution - Retire as soon as possible so I can vacation more often!
5. thunder storms - YES! one popped in to say hi every time our scheduled flight attempted to depart or arrive.
6. Frank Lloyd Wright - YES! I saw many houses, some churches and a school.  Oh, and a windmill. 
7. art - Museum of Contemporary and Art, Institute of - YES! amazing.  I could have spent a week just at the Institute.
8. Wrigley Field - YES! stinking cool even thought the Cubs lost
9. Hancock Observatory - SUNSET!  perfect
10. the "L" - YES! in Chicago its the only way to fly (around traffic)
11. Wisconsin - Chocolate Cheese, Ya'll!

Sometime after I left home and before the end of my Chicago experience (and Chicago is now tied for my favorite place to vacation along with anyplace with an oceanfront beach) I developed a rash.  No problem, I'm savvy I know about hydrocortisone cream ... only the cream didn't stop it, or even slow it down, or get it's attention.  SO, last week when I landed in Arkansas for the family reunion/pick up the boys thing I went to see a doctor. 

That should be a major clue about this rash because I'm WAY too cheap for anything that might even possibly be medically unnecessary up to and including replacing a kidney if I still have one working even a little bit. 

So $100 later, I have prescriptions.  Among them - prednisone.  Which had no more impact on the aforementioned rash than my wishing it would go away.

Fast forward to yesterday.  I'm in the Urgent Care office.  Now I have a rash over significant portions of my body.  And yes, I mean significant in almost every way you might want to take that word.  (My nipples itch, okay?) AND, thanks mostly to the prednisone, I have gained 23 pounds - in less than two weeks.  I feel like a balloon blown just a little past the manufacturer's recommended pressure setting.

The UC people are pretty sure that whatever is wrong with me is no little thing, so they send me to the ER.  Where not one or two but four different doctors find me "interesting".  (And by "me" I mean my symptoms).   One goes so far as to say, "I can't tell what's causing your rash other than a rather severe case of BAD LUCK."

Unfortunately, there's no pill, spray, cream, or incantation that works on BAD LUCK.  Rash = 3, Terri = 0

Eight hours later I'm sent home with strict instructions to be back this morning at 7.  The only problem with that was that they 1) gave me the WRONG address for the Dr who would be doing the follow-up and giving me the results of the tests and 2) don't start answering their phone until 8 so by the time I can get through to them to find out where they are, I've missed my appointment. 

No problem, they worked me in with a Dr who had a really good thorough no-nonsense approach to things and I felt like I got my money's worth, which is good because it was about $150 for that 15 minutes (I'm wondering now WHY I didn't grow up to be a Dr.)

I have no idea what the bill from the Urgent Care and Emergency Room visits will come to, but I'm expecting that before this is over I will have paid about $1500 to learn that I have BAD LUCK.  Figures.

Oh, and I got the job.  But due to the drama with my itching bloating BAD LUCK problem, I wasn't able to start today like I had planned.  My new boss was very understanding.  (In fact, I called her yesterday with a "heads up" and she came to the ER to be with me and advocate for me.  She's now seen more of me than I ever imagined I'd show to a boss, but in the spirit of full disclosure, I've got to be holding some kind of record.)

Over-the-counter anti-histamines help.  So does setting my air conditioning to "meat locker".  The boys are huddled under a blanket, but that's good for them.  It's building character.

Did I mention that it's good to be back?