Life according to...

Joy and Sorrow, revisited

2009-07-13T21:16:00.004-04:00

The conclusion of the tragic and amazing story of Tyler's friend came sooner than expected.

Keep the family in your thoughts and prayers. It sounds like they're holding up okay; a lot of mixed emotions. This is one of those things, you know - both awful and wonderful. A story of great strength, community, and love, and a life lost too soon.

Meanwhile.

I also mentioned that one of my college professors died suddenly. Here's the obit, due to be published tomorrow, posted today on Facebook.

John Steven Paul, 58, of Valparaiso, died Friday, July 10, 2009, at Porter Memorial Hospital. He was born February 22, 1951, in Fort Wayne, IN. He received a B.A. with distinction from Valparaiso University and an M.A. and Ph.D. in theatre and drama from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Joining the Valparaiso University faculty in 1979, he was Professor of Theatre and served for 15 years as department chair. He taught courses in dramatic literature, playwriting and screenwriting, drama and the church, and non-Western theatre. He directed more than 60 plays, musicals, and operas for the University Theatre, including Long Day’s Journey into Night, King Lear, The Yellow Boat, The Pirates of Penzance, Accidental Rapture, The Book of the Dun Cow, A Little Night Music, and The Magic Flute.

He was the founder (in 1987) and director of Soul Purpose, the University’s student liturgical drama troupe, which creates new plays and performs them in churches throughout the country. In 2001 he received Valparaiso University Alumni Association’s Distinguished Teaching Award. He served since 2005 as Program Director of Valparaiso’s Lilly Fellows Program in Humanities and the Arts, the largest national, ecumenical association of church-related colleges and universities.

He was an active member of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education and its religion and theatre focus group. He was a member of the Bach Choir of Valparaiso University.

He is survived by his wife of 29 years, Margaret Franson, along with his parents, Robert and Betty (Steffen) Paul of Fort Wayne, IN; two sisters, Jane (Reverend David) Boedecker of Marshall, MI, and Joanne I. Paul (Reverend Wendy Vander Hart) of Arlington, MA; two nieces, Sara Boedecker-Johnston (Kelley James Johnston) and Emily Boedecker; several beloved godchildren and many friends.

A funeral service will be held Thursday at 11:00 AM at the Valparaiso University Chapel of the Resurrection, Reverend Frederick Niedner officiating. Visitation will be held Wednesday from 4:00 to 8:00 PM at Moeller Funeral Home, 104 Roosevelt Rd., Valparaiso, and from 9:30 to 10:30 AM Thursday at the Chapel of the Resurrection. A memorial service will be held in September. Memorials may be made to the Department of Theatre or to Christ College, Valparaiso University.

He will be missed. Several of you know, this blog was named in reference to my class' Freshman Production, in which he was heavily involved. Go with God, JSP.

And I got some other news today I'm rather concerned about...

Oy.

But anyhow. I'm back on the road. Should be back in the Old No'th State tomorrow, in plenty of time to pick up Maggie. I have to remember to call them in the morning and tell them to give her a bath...

So let's end on something a little happier. And what could be sweeter than this?

Sunday Secrets

2009-07-12T01:18:00.005-04:00

So, every Sunday morning at midnight, the new crop of secret postcards go up at PostSecret. They're often poignant, typically interesting, and frequently amusing. And feed that voyeuristic thing we all have but don't like to admit to. I look forward to them all week.

I love, love, love this one, from this week's secrets:

Love.

(And no, really, I'm going to bed now.)

Joy and sorrow

2009-07-11T21:54:00.003-04:00

They so often go together, you know?

I had a lovely day, here, personally. Lots of family around, good food, good conversation, good party. My relatives are crazy. My aunt Aphrodite told a story involving the word "bj". My cousins Gina and Candy showed up later and helped me put away the table and chairs (not light lifting!) and we had a good visit with them. It was delightful.

I logged on to Facebook afterwards and discovered that one of my (everyone's) favorite Humanities professors had died. I think he was in his 50s. Apparently he had a heart attack. Rest in peace, JSP.

But while all of this was going on here...remember how I blogged earlier in the week about how Tyler's fried was dying of testicular cancer? Well, Tuesday, he asked his girlfriend of three years to marry him. She, naturally, said yes, and the whole community pulled together to get the wedding planned in a mere four days. Tyler texted me last night and said that the local Fox affiliate had done a piece on them.

It's really lovely.

There's footage of the actual ceremony online as well, here.

Tragic. Beautiful. And really hopeful.

How is it Friday??

2009-07-10T22:37:00.002-04:00

This week has been going by so fast...

Today was a little more laid back. I slept in a little, ran some errand with my mom, we made cookies, I went to the gym. And my cousins, whom I so totally adore, came over. We talked, we ate, we were loud. It was a very Greek good time.

Lots of culinary wonderfulness today. Portillo's hamburger for lunch, Giordano's stuffed cheese pizza for dinner. That's the stuff of epicurean Chicago legend.

And I worked out on this whole different cross-trainer today at the local gym. It was like some sort of stair-stepper/elliptical hybrid thingie. It was amusing and fancy and had a lot of buttons. It made my feet hurt (the elliptical always does, the past couple of weeks. I clearly need new shoes...). I had a short little workout today, only a half hour, just cardio, but, it was restorative. And something has to combat all the cheese and grease and cookies of today...

Family gathering tomorrow. Knitting Sunday. Road trip again Monday. I can't believe it's almost time to go back....

Thursday confessional

2009-07-09T23:59:00.004-04:00

I have a confession to make.

I really like the South.

I think that somewhere, at my core, I am a Southerner. I like to think of it in the same way I consider red to be my natural hair color, just not the one that grows in.

Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago. Great city. Good people. Shitty-ass weather. Freakin' traffic nightmares. Really craptastic weather (it's so grey here. I forgot about the grey).

Down south, we have sun. We have breezier days and sweet tea and Southern Hospitality. Nobody owns a snow blower. I'm equally day-trip close to the beach and to the mountains. There's way the heck more sunlight. Did I mention how significantly less grey it is down there?

Truth be told, I could be very happy staying in the South. Chicago would be a place I came to visit every year or two when I was feeling nostalgic and wanted good pizza. If it all came down to logistics, I'd sign on to be a "damn Yankee" in a heartbeat.

(Because you know the difference, right? A Yankee is someone who comes from up no'th. A damn Yankee is one who comes and never leaves.)

But here's the rub.

I have these people in Chicago. Family of both the genetic and voluntary sort. And every time I come up here, I feel so acutely the problem of being away from them.

My God daughter came over for lunch today. She's seven, and she's awesome. Smart kid (duh), just funny as heck. Kicked my butt in checkers. We went to pick up the pizza together - just us - and had a little girl talk. She's at that stage where she's just starting to figure out that the world really is bigger than her and she's trying so hard to make sense of it. She's an amazing kid. I also really like her mom, Shelly (her dad is actually the one I'm related to. When they got divorced, Shelly got custody of us). Oh, my word, I adore that kid.

And then I went over to Robin and Brad's for burgers on the grill. We assembled the usual crew, our core group of people who've been friends literally forever. And oh...my God...I can't even tell you how good that feels. I was sitting there tonight, at Robin's kitchen table, in the kitchen that Brad remodeled himself, with these people...them, and their one year old son, who just steals my little heart every single time he smiles. Bianca and Steve (Steve may have had a different pseudonym before...it's 1am and I can't quite remember...) and their almost-three-year-old, who is like my favorite little boy (is he still a "toddler?" He sure isn't toddling...) in the whole wide world. Ali and Jer, whose wedding I was in, who, Ali and I have been friends since we were four and Jer and I lived together for two years. And Claudia, who's the closest thing I have to a real sister. I'm looking around at them tonight, and thinking of us all in high school (well, not Steve and Jer, they were later additions), sitting around the cafeteria tables. Doing choir and band and voice lessons. Going to school dances and football games. Ali and I climbing trees when we were little.

It seems, somehow, in retrospect, like such a simpler time. In truth, it was not. Adolescence is never easy (one of our attendings likes to say, "Puberty isn't good for anyone."), but we had a heaping pile of other crap to deal with, you know? Abuse and death and divorce and depression and all sorts of shit that adolescence is just NOT the time to be dealing with, but, you know, that seems to be such a time when life happens. Not just for our little clan and our friends, but for everyone.

And I look at us now, and we still have a lot of shit. But somewhere along the way, we turned into real grown-ups. With kids and lives and jobs and mortgages. With spouses and doctoral degrees and sensible cars and lawn mowers and dog walkers. With indescribable joys and unspeakable heartaches.

I cannot imagine my life without these people.

And while I think about staying in the South, or doing other fellowships elsewhere after I'm done with Child, or living in places like New York or Seattle or Canada, and I think about never spending another winter in Chicago, and living in a place where there's sun and beach and things that grow, and it all seems so utterly delightful...I cannot imagine myself being, long term, away from the minutia of our daily lives. Away from this, my chosen family. Away from my genetic family. Away from my cousins and my God daughter and my other good friends in the area. Not in any sort of permanent way. My roots are so deep here.

But I love what I do, and I love where I do it. I love the idea of experiencing different places and doing different things and establishing a life that is very authentically my own.

I do not know how to reconcile these things.

Fortunately, I have at least three years before the need to figure this out becomes more immediate. But, I? Have absolutely no idea how I'm going to do that...

Florida Biker Bar

2009-07-08T14:07:00.002-04:00

(From my Dad. Who is now old, although never a biker and does not live in Florida. Happy birthday, Dad!!)

Windy

2009-07-07T22:45:00.004-04:00

So I'm in Chicago. And glad to be out of the car. But it's going to be a busy, busy week...

I had dinner with my cousins and my uncle tonight. I adore them, I do, but sometimes I wonder how I came out of this family (i.e., we were talking about a news story at dinner, and my cousin says, "Well, what do you expect, he's black?" I was like, really?? Because last time I checked white kids shot people too. And Hispanic kids, and Asian kids, and - wait for it - Greek kids).

I also set my parents up on Facebook. Apparently my mom's friends from work have been pestering her to join. Seriously, I find this weird. Not in a bad way, just...in a weird way.

I keep thinking of a news story I read a couple of years ago about how there was this big shift of teenagers over to Friendster because there were too many "old people" (my age) on Facebook. My father's going to be 77 tomorrow. I doubt this bothers the teenagers too much, though, because clearly they all came back...

Tomorrow, as I mentioned, is my dad's birthday (happy birthday, Dad!). We're going to go to breakfast. Claud and I are going to hang out in the afternoon. Thursday my God daughter and her mom are coming for lunch, and then the crew is assembling at Robin's for burgers on the grill (mmmm). Friday my cousins (different ones) are coming for dinner. Saturday the whole family descends, and on Sunday, I will knit. I'm hoping to work in a couple of other friends, too, or maybe more time with the same friends. Then back in the car on Monday, home and pick up Ms. Mags on Tuesday, back to work Friday. So at least I get a couple of days to chill out and unpack my house...

Whew. I need a vacation from this vacation!

In other, not so pleasant news, I got word tonight that my friend's boyhood friend is in hospice and has about two weeks left. Keep them in your thoughts and prayers. And remind all the men my age that you know that think they're young and healthy and invincible that they're exactly the ones testicular cancer strikes. Regular checkups, self exams - it's important stuff. To you, and the people who love you.

Oh, and did I mention...

2009-07-06T21:51:00.004-04:00

...I'm on my way to Chicago.

Jenn pointed out to me today that, what with all the wedding chaos going on, I neglected to mention (or, for that matter, think much about) the fact that I'm on VACATION for the next 10 days. And currently on my way back to the Chi for a week of that.

So my day, today, has been this:

1. Oversleep.
2. Haul my sorry ass out of bed.
3. Throw some clothes on.
4.Take dog to kennel.
5. Miss dog.
6. Realize I have no idea what pants I actually put on (but they're fine).
7. Go to new gym and get ass kicked by new trainer (on a side note? I really like the new trainer).
8. Come home. Shower. Put different random clothes on.
9. Swear a lot as try to assemble what I need to take to Chicago. "Pack" by throwing what clothes I want to take into a laundry basket, and the rest of the stuff (plus a different shirt...don't know why I apparently decided to wear the same pants and didn't think I was going to shower tomorrow, but, whatever) into an overnight bag.
10. Mess around on Facebook.
11. Realize I wanted to leave a half hour ago.
12. Swear some more.
13. Clean out the car.
14. Go to the bank.
15. Pick up new glasses.
16. Wear new glasses (I never wear glasses).
17. Obsess about new glasses every time I'm near a mirror and multiple other times (maybe I should've gotten the other frames? I hate having no peripheral vision. Ooh, the polarized sunglasses are awfully nice. I think my nose is wrong. The fact that these correct for my astigmatism makes everything all bendy, relative to my contacts. Ugh, I'm going to have to sleep without my contacts if I'm going to wear my glasses for a few days. I hate waking up and not being able to see. Maybe I should just screw this whole "glasses" idea and get Lasik).
18. Drive.
19. Drive some more.
20. Drive even more than that.
21. Subsist primarily on cheese, fruit, and occasional Doritos.
22. Hit three separate Starbucks and play Black Eyed Peas' new CD very loudly for the majority of the trip.
23. Decide I've had enough driving somewhere in the middle of Kentucky when I approach an exit that has signs boasting "Starbucks," "Steak 'n' Shake," and "Fairfield Inn." Score.
24. Check in and schlep cooler and overnight bag (both heavy) to room.
25. Call parents. Remember that I'm already overbooked for the time that I'm home, and that's just family stuff.
26. Log on to wifi. Spend a ridiculous amount of time on Facebook.
27. Realize it's suddenly gotten dark in my room and I forgot to eat dinner. Swear at Facebook. More cheese and grapes.
28. Attempt to blog.
29. Get distracted by email and Facebook.
30. Give up and go to bed.

Worn out

2009-07-05T00:11:00.004-04:00

So it's just after midnight. I got home a little while ago. That? Was a fabulous wedding.

We (as a group) started the day with lunch at this rather nice little place in town. The 'maids, and Peng, and Peng's mom all went. And then we went to some little Asian nail place that was open today and had said they could accommodate us all. The 'maids got French manicures, Peng got sparkly silver nails. It was very relaxing, a nice time, and good fun.

Then we went back to the Presidential Suite (where Peng and Chef are staying, and Peng stayed there last night) and chilled for a while, and then the 'maids got all fussed up. One of the other 'maids did my hair, and it looked great. We got our dresses on, we got our Chuck Taylors laced up, we put on the wonderful handmade freshwater pearls that Peng gave us as attendants' gifts. And then we fussed around her, and primped, and fluffed, and straightened, and swirled, and then we tied her up into her dress. It was gorgeous. And then - they got married!

Peng looked amazing. The weather was absolutely perfect (the ceremony was out doors). The ceremony was lovely, and included a reading from Babylon 5, of all things (it was actually quite well stated). The other guests watched us from their balconies. There was a guy in a robe watching the wedding. It was hysterical. We went back and took sweet pictures, cute pictures, and silly pictures, including many pics of the shoes and one of the men holding Chef up, and one of US holding Chef up. The men were amused that we didn't seem to have nearly as much trouble as they did (Gomer would be proud).

The reception was awesome. Absolutely amazing food - which, I guess you can't expect anything different when the groom and half the groomsmen are chefs. We changed mine to the vegetarian option at the last minute (yesterday), and wow, I have to tell you, that was one of the best vegetarian meals I've ever had. And the desserts - incredible. The cake was almond cake with white buttercream filling and passionfruit icing. It was awesome. And then they had assortments of little tiny desserts as well, which were delightful.

And then, of course, there was the dancing. The music was great, the dance floor was a heck of a good time. We boogied down with Benny and Sparrow and Cleo, Ruthie and Mary and my new bridesmaid buddies, and Magical Corrina the All-Knowing and Magical Elise the Learning-It-All. I finally got a dance with Matthew at the end of the night (who was even more of a hoot at the bachelorette party yesterday, ps). Mary caught the bouquet, my groomsman caught the garter (which I knitted, and which turned out awesome, by the way).

So now, I'm exhausted, and my feet hurt, and I smell (a lot). But I really just think the whole night was just wonderful. It was a good, good time.

And big congratulations to PenguinShrink and Chef. I'm so honored you asked me to be a part of this. I love you guys!!

2009-07-04T17:39:00.002-04:00

Manicures done. Dresses on. I look ike the prow of a ship...

2009-07-04T12:35:00.002-04:00

Having lunch with Mom, Peng, and the 'maids. Lovely. There were grilled peaches involved. Mmmmmm.

Saturday Fragments

2009-07-04T09:52:00.002-04:00

It's PenguinShrink's wedding day!! Since I (am already late, and) clearly don't have time to do a real blog post today, I'm going to try and do some random post-by-text entries. We'll, uh, see how it goes....

But also - yay!!! Big congrats to Peng and Chef!!

Sadness

2009-07-03T22:41:00.005-04:00

Our old buddy Kedzie, who lived with us for two years when I was in medical school, passed on today.

He was a good, good boy. Kedzie was my surrogate dog for a while. After Wolf died in my second year, I wasn't sure it was a good idea to get another dog. And then Kedz (and my roommate, his human) moved in, and he tried to be a good substitute. He was downstairs a lot, and we'd hang out, but in the end, he was always Jer's dog. And he made me want one of my own. Fortunately, he and Maggie got to be buds pretty fast.

Kedzie was a sweet dog. Crazy, and hated thunderstorms something fierce. And really, really, really loved his person. He also had a penchant for jumping out windows. Shortly after Jer and Kedzie moved out (because Mags and I were moving to NH), Jer and his fabulous bride-to-be went somewhere, and he gets this call. It was the downstairs neighbors informing him that Kedzie had jumped out the second story window.

He was fine (crazy, but fine). He broke his little leg, but he was okay. Which makes my favorite part of the story funny. Apparently, the neighbor was sitting next to the window watching TV when he saw this big brown thing go past the window. And he thought to himself, "Wow. That was a really big squirrel..."

Kedzie had one too few toe these past few years after losing one to toe cancer. Toe cancer!! Who gets toe cancer?!

He also was self-petting. You could be lying on the couch, or whatever, and stick your hand out, and Kedzie would back up until your hand was down his back about to his hip bones and then he'd wiggle his butt back and forth. Instant scratches.

He was a good roommate, and a great dog, and he will be missed. Rest in peace, my sweet, furry friend. There's lots of butt scratches for you in heaven.

3rd year redux

2009-07-02T17:04:00.002-04:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(ahem)

sleepy pup

2009-07-01T07:02:00.002-04:00

Grown up

2009-06-30T20:32:00.005-04:00

Today was loooong. And scattered. And involved too much traffic.

In other news, I bought new pants. The size I had is too big. The size down is too small. Argh. I opted for the smaller size, which won't fall off, but also only came in longer than my legs.

And I'm very disappointed in the selection of bachelorette party accoutrements at the local Adam and Eve (I never thought I'd be sentimental about the overpriced campiness at Lovers' Lane).

I did a lot of work today too.

So I'm going to bed. My goal was to be in bed by 8:30. Because I'm old. My revised goal is to be in bed by 9. Which is when I've been trying to go to bed anyway.

Dudes. I'm so tired.

And PS, my spell check just misspelled "accoutrements."

(See? Friday Fragments aren't really all that different from the norm around here...)

Stuck

2009-06-29T20:53:00.002-04:00

So, this morning, I literally had to bribe the heck out of myself to get out of bed and go to the gym. I don't actually remember what I promised myself (except buying this one song off of iTunes - it's a horrible bit of bubble gum pop that is on the gym's music channel a lot, and is disturbingly catchy - and loading it on the good iPod and taking that one to the gym), but, a half hour after I was supposed to get out of bed, I rolled into the gym. I did a half hour on the treadmill, didn't quite hit my target heart rate range, but got very sweaty and was nonetheless pleased that I actually made it.

So I come home, I shower, I walk the dog, I make it out the door on time, I get to work, all is well. I made good time. And then I get on the elevator in the basement, as per usual. I'm pulling the iPod out of my ears and fiddling with it when a very nice gentleman got on at the ground floor.

And then there was a clunk.

And we weren't moving.

The elevator seemed to think we were on the first floor. We thought we were probably a foot or two off the ground floor. We looked at each other. Nope, really not moving. I pushed the "door open" button. I tried to open the doors manually. No luck. He opened the panel marked "Fireman's Phone," but neither of us were firemen, so we lacked whatever key or device it took to make that work. I found the alarm button, and then finally saw the call button down near the floor.

The hospital police were very pleasant when we were like, "Uh, hi, we're stuck in the elevator." They were going to "try to find someone" in maintenance to come get us out.

Uh, okay, thanks. Meanwhile, we're still STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR.

Fortunately, neither of us was very freaked out by this. We had a nice chat. Turns out we have a mutual friend. He told me an interesting story about her I didn't know. At 7:55, I called the front desk (I had to hold my cell phone up near the top of the door and use the speakerphone to accomplish this) and was like, "Hey, it's Kate. I'm stuck in the employee elevator. Could you let my 8:00 know I'm going to be late?" The front desk staff was really amused...

But, after about fifteen or twenty minutes, maintenance finally showed up. The guy walked around on the top of the car for a while. That didn't work. And then eventually he got the doors open, and we were about four feet from the first floor. The officer that we'd been talking to through the doors and the maintenance guy were like, can you guys get out? The gentleman in the elevator with me was quite tall, so he was like, sure, no problem! And promptly hoisted himself out and went on his way.

I? Am not tall. I'm somewhat the opposite of tall. So I was like...can I get a step stool? But, ultimately, I stepped up on the handrail and crawled out. No problem.

It's good I've been going to the gym...

Newbies

2009-06-28T20:23:00.004-04:00

So, tonight we had the welcome party for the incoming interns.

It was a hoot.

Eva (who is pregnant with twins. This is both wonderful and terrifying) and her husband hosted it. They have a great house for these sorts of things, and two absolutely hysterical dogs.

The new interns seem like a good crew. And they seem to be bonding well, which is a good sign. There are some definite unique personalities in there, in some really positive ways and in some ways that may turn out to be troublesome, but mostly they're a diverse and personable bunch. I think they'll be a good addition. I keep thinking of them as, like, the people I'm going to be handing my clinic patients off to in a year, so it's important to me who they are as people. It's nice to be thinking of them like that and not as fresh meat who would take the crisis pager away from me (thank GOD), which is pretty much how the outgoing intern class always sees the ones coming in (i.e., I really, really like the class behind mine, but last year at this time, I was just like, oh, I don't care who you are, thank God you're here...).

The new academic year starts Thursday. I can't believe I've got two years down already. Moving on, moving up....

Where's my day of rest?

2009-06-27T22:19:00.004-04:00

It was a busy day. It's gonna be a busy day tomorrow. Oy.

The dogs woke me up at 6:30 (on a Saturday!! Need to get those girls a calendar) by dive-bombing me. So I finally agreed and got up, Mags and I went to Starbucks (Maxine got to stay home in Maggie's crate, which she just loved. It was adorable. She thought she was queen of the world), and then I came home and worked on a knitting project that's due next Saturday. I spent two hours at the gym. I picked up my bridesmaid's dress - which, blissfully, is the right length and doesn't need to be altered - and my shoes, and a new skin for my phone (the old one fell apart today). I went to work for three or four hours and moved most of my stuff to my new desk in our new office (the Pink Office is going prime time, folks. We're a little worried, given the nature of the conversations that go on in there on a daily basis). I also cleared out all my files and my big stack of papers and my drawer of, as Ruthie calls it, Nuclear Holocaust food (I had a lot of microwave-in-the-pouch rice stuff in there). The dogs are fed and walked...and I'm really, really tired.

I met my new trainer at 9. She's nice. She's a she. That's a little weird. Gomer she ain't, but, maybe the change is good. We're going to call her Kelly. She's blonde and thin (she has a very athletic build, though, she's not a twig) and younger than me, but easy to talk to and, as she says, "probably a little more gentle and sensitive that your last trainer." So far I like her, which is more than I could say for Gomer after our first session. He grew on me, though, obviously.

But one thing she definitely has on him was that she seemed to take me seriously today. We did our little assessment, which was way more involved than the one Gomer and I did (his was all weights and measures. She tested my balance, my heart rate recovery, my lifting endurance), and she was consistently just like, alright, here it is. And she seemed reasonably impressed (I maxed out on the 40lb chest press at 40 reps. Our new goal is 50 reps of 55 lbs in the next 8 months. I don't know why 8 months, but, okay). Now, she also has the benefit of getting me after six months of Gomer, which Gomer obviously did not. But he was sort of like, "Yeah, whatever" in the beginning, until I actually did what he told me to between sessions and didn't drop out and was like, "bring it on." She also did a really good job of being like, "Okay, you're a doctor, I don't need to explain things like BMI to you or why it's useless." She also was like, "great," when I said I didn't want weight to be a goal. Gomer, our first day, was like, "Let's try to get you to lose 10 lbs this month." I said, "Well, let's just do what we do and see where I end up." He didn't seem to know what to do with that answer. He got over it. Gomer really did do an awesome job of "getting over it," in a lot of different ways.

I had to pick a goal for our training work, either "lean," "healthy," or "strong." Now, as she pointed out, you head for one, the others will follow, but, they have different schemas depending on what you pick. I thought about it for a minute, and picked lean.

This was kind of huge for me (no pun intended). Because I'm never going to be skinny. Ever. My calculated lean body mass alone (so, none of the fat, just muscle and bone and organs and whatnot) rests right at the lower cusp of "obese" on the BMI range (because BMI is USELESS. Ahem). And I don't intend to stop building lean body mass just yet. But my frame is too big, and my genes too curvy, for me to ever be skinny. So I spend so much time trying to accept that fact that it feels a little like I might be setting myself up for failure by making this choice. But, the goal, really, isn't "skinny." It's "change my body" - not, primarily, my cardiovascular health or my endurance or my muscle strength - which is more reasonable, and more healthy, but also just a huge-huge-hugely-huge step out of the "safe" zone for me. "Fat" is an easy thing to blame when things go wrong. "Fat" is a useful device for internalizing my anger and self-deprecation and all those other things that go along with a history like mine. "Fat" is also protective against having to relive that history. It gives me a wall to put up when I need one ("He'd never be interested. I'm too fat. Good reason not to take the risk"). I don't know what I'd look like any other way, what I'd feel like, what it would be like to be me. This is frustrating and annoying (and, in a lot of ways - mostly influenced by my underactive thyroid and my polycystic ovaries - not as within my control as I might like to think), but it's also....safe.

So it's really interesting, this (we're going to go with "interesting"). Most of that minute I was thinking about it, I was thinking, is this something I'm ready to do? To focus on? To say, I accept this, but I want something different? To let go of all that it means, symbolizes, and provides?

I think I am.

And, you know, my real goal is still to accept who I am, whatever size, whatever else it means, no matter what. To feel better in my body and in my skin, to live here and live fully. So it fits that I'm not really working towards a weight goal (although I have a safe body fat percentage as a target) and not really working in a rigid time frame. It just is what it is, it comes as it comes, it moves forward and backward as it needs to. And we'll see where it goes.

Look, y'all, no one said it was normal inside my head...

Friday Fragments, first edition

2009-06-26T22:37:00.005-04:00

So, if you look hard enough in the blogosphere, you can find at least six themes for every day of the week. Barb recently introduced me to the idea of Friday Fragments, though, which I loved. It's basically a melange of randomness.

Much like my brain.

I can't say I plan to do every Friday like this (look at how Love Thursday goes most weeks...) but it's worth the old college try, right? So here goes....

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I had the weirdest day today. Perhaps the highlight was that one of my patients announced their engagement to another patient they met at State Hospital last month. It's a match made on Axis II...

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Little Maxine is staying with us for the weekend, which I think I mentioned yesterday. She really likes to sleep under my bed. She's just barely small enough to do it. I find this a little weird.

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Here's a funny link.

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My therapy kids (15 and 16) never cease to amaze me. I don't remember high school being so rough. I mean, I guess when I think about it hard enough, it probably was just as bad, but I don't remember having to deal with quite as much as they do on such a daily basis.

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Never, never never, never never name your child Crystal. Or Destinee. They run a exponentially higher risk of ending up in the mental health system. It's a fact.

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I often will fall asleep watching Law and Order:SVU. Somehow, it makes me feel safer... I met the Olivia Benson of our county one day at work. She was very nice, and I'm glad there are real people like that out there doing their job.

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In related news, I'm already over the Michael Jackson thing, but it's been really interesting to watch the Facebook feed about all of this. Half of them are like, "I can't believe he's gone!" and the other half are "Good riddance, pedophile!" The man made some really classic music for my generation (my cousin and I used to play the "Thriller" album over and over in his room on this ridiculous brown tape recorder with gigantic buttons that was probably from, like, Fisher-Price or something). But he was a sick man and a lost soul and I think he appeared to be severely mentally ill. Which does not excuse what he probably did do to those children (and many others), but makes it somehow less malicious.

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(Come to think of it, though, there WAS an SVU episode about him, without actually being about him....)

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Next weekend, we're having Peng's bachelorette party. In the middle of the afternoon. On a Friday. But, that's okay, I like a challenge. So in the midst of planning this, I got recruited to be a Passion Party representative. I was like, um, I'm a doctor; my day job is more than enough, thanks. But where were you when I was selling Mary Kay in college?

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I like this:

What the heck?

2009-06-25T20:19:00.005-04:00

What's with all the dead celebrities? First Ed McMahon (who's gonna bring me my Publisher's Clearinghouse Winnings now?). Then Farrah Fawcett. Then Michael Jackson.

Who knew celebrity was so bad for your health?

So, I've been on walk-ins the past two days. Blissfully, it was not awful. Yesterday I didn't see a single patient, weirdly. I directed traffic a bit, but the rest of the crisis team saw the people that showed up and I got to go to lecture. Weirdly, no one showed at all until the afternoon.

Same thing happened today - no one arrived before 2, I think. There was a woman in the ER I had to dispo to New State Hospital, but, it's not like I haven't done that a couple hundred times. Peng and I ordered lunch (to use up my extra meal card money, which is about to disappear next week) for Magical Corrina the All-Knowing, who is changing jobs (although staying in the department - whew!), and Elise, her replacement (through no likely coincidence, Elise is also her spouse. I don't think it's nepotism, actually. I think it's that they knew Elise and had already figured out that she was awesome). So we ordered subs from this Italian place in town and sat and ate lunch together, and it was delightful.

I decided, after lunch, to try and organize my office, because we're changing offices next week (the Pink Office is moving to a more central location. It's terrifying, I'm sure). Which is, of course, when all the walk-in patients started showing up. Four of them turned up. At least three needed admission.

I finished mine in time, though to have a chat with my program director about this ongoing issue I've been having with one of the attendings. I'll probably say more about this eventually, but she was really supportive, and able to stay very objective, and I can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me.

So after work I picked up Little Maxine, because Sparrow's out of town for the weekend. The small one was a very cute little travelling companion for the drive home, and turned into a tiny hellion when we got here. She walked in the house and promptly started to poop on the floor. ::sigh...:: But, all seems to be well again. She and Maggie are playing a game of chase at the moment. I love it when they actually get along...

I think the furry ones and I are going to bed down for the night, now, though. I've been going to the gym at a quarter past dark this week, in the mornings before work. I'm liking it, but I'm definitely still adjusting. So we're sleeping in tomorrow. You know, like, 6:45.

Mi vida loca, people....

Notice the padlock. And lack of fence...

2009-06-24T06:45:00.005-04:00

(Click to enlarge)

(I know I don't usually post pictures of people on the blog, but I have permission. This is my good friend from college, Pastor Mike. Several of you knew him when. He's out west now tending the flock and whatnot.)

(I also know I'm not being very "wordless" today. Oh well. But I'm pretty sure words in parentheses don't count. Right, Barb?)

Relief

2009-06-23T20:06:00.007-04:00

I love Facebook.

When I was in high school, my cousin came in to our family (not Danielle. I have other cousins. These are actual cousins). She was born in the States to a Russian woman who couldn't afford any more children, and so she made what I think is one of the most selfless decisions one can possibly choose - she gave her up for adoption. And so my cousin - we'll call her Athena - was born. Her new parents (my cousins) were at the hospital when she was delivered. They spoke with her mother. They left the most adorable message on our answering machine telling us what exciting news they had. A daughter! A little girl!! A sweet little baby of their very own, something they had been hoping and praying for and wanting for a long, long time.

Some months later, we went to visit, and I saw, on their refrigerator, a Family Circus cartoon. It was two kids talking, and the one was saying, "I'm really lucky. I got to pick my parents. I'm adopted." I thought this was just the best thing ever.

Four years later, another little Russian girl joined the family. Same situation - my cousins made it to the hospital in a whole different state while our other cousins worked around the clock to get the nursery ready. Same excitement. Same joy. And Aphrodite completed their family.

Aphrodite and Athena were a great addition. They were adorable kids. Athena was really sensitive, sweet, kind of emotional. Aphrodite was generally fearless and funny. They were a lot of fun to visit. And they've grown up into pretty awesome adolescents. I'm excited to know them as women someday.

Strangely, they look a lot like me. I'm half-"xeno" (white person), so my coloring is pretty different from the rest of the family. I was always a sandy blonde, pasty white, blue eyed kid in the middle of all of these dark haired, dark eyed, olive skinned people. Aphrodite and Athena, when they were small, and we were out together - strangers would always tell me what beautiful children I had. I've always thought of them as nothing less than related, but - like the cartoon said - the way they came to us always seemed a little more special.

And their parents, my cousins, are two of my favorite people. So you can imagine my dismay when, sometime when Aphrodite was very small, it was announced that they weren't telling the girls they were adopted.

.....?

I was dumbfounded by this. Not now? Or not ever? I couldn't understand why it wasn't open knowledge from the start. This was a great story! These were our girls! Why would we want to pretend they were anything other than what they were? I was so disappointed in my cousins.

And let me tell you, I know the damage big family secrets can cause. You might think you can keep it secret, but you never can. It always gets out - somebody knows, invariably. And in a case like this? When EVERYBODY knows? Come on. These things always hurt way worse (if they had to hurt at all in the first place) when the cat is let out of the bag. Because there must be something shameful about it if we had to keep it a secret, right? Whereas, if you just let the cat wander around from the beginning, things tend to be better. You deal with it, acknowledge it, move on. And in a case like this, where there's really nothing shameful, nothing to hide...not to mention, we have some other cousins who are...let's go with...opportunistic. If they had thought it to their advantage to drop that bomb on the girls one day ("Well, she's not your real mom anyway!"), I have no faith that they wouldn't have taken it in an instant.

This secrecy, as you can probably guess, has bothered me for years.

So, tonight, I'm on Facebook, and Athena and I are FB friends (duh), and she's posted a little "How well do you know Athena?" quiz. Which, of course, I have to take, because she's my little cousin (turns out I know her 80%). And one of the questions was, "Which country was I adopted from?"

I seriously almost cried. All I could think was Thank God. And then I happily clicked "Russia."

I sent her a message, though, after I finished the quiz. I asked when her parents told her, and I told her I thought it was great that she and her sister knew. And I told her how awesome it was that I got to have her as part of my family.

And then I thought of that cartoon on the refrigerator.

Which I couldn't find on Google.

So I'll give you this one instead.

Proud

2009-06-22T19:57:00.002-04:00

Everyone go over to my cousin's blog and read her post.

My cousin Danielle - who isn't actually my biological cousin but we grew up together, and we're Greek, so it's the same thing - is officially a court-appointed child advocate (again. In Texas, this time). This is a goal she's been working on and thinking about and planning for a while, and it's a big step in a really positive direction for her. And I'm really, really proud of her.

Way to go, D!

Father's day

2009-06-21T19:39:00.004-04:00

Today is the day we celebrate all things paternal. So Happy Father's Day to one and all who are fathers, grandfathers, or stand-in fathers. You do a heck of an important job.

But an especially happy Father's Day to the poor guy who's had to put up with me for the last 30 years.

My dad. What a clown.

(Love you, Dad)

(Maggie says, "Woof!" I think that means, ditto)