Working in health care is rewarding, hard, scary, and at times, wonderful. At times I feel as though I'm expected to have a magic wand inside my stethoscope, and when I am not able to fix it all?
Sometimes it feels like a failure.
Then again, there are some situations when I wish I didn't know something. I remember one night at work we had a very critical patient in the ICU. We, as a medical team, had done everything we could. But "everything we could" sometimes isn't enough. After the patient passed suddenly despite our efforts, I left the unit to finish some work on another floor. I walked past the waiting room where the family was seated and overheard one close family member speaking into his cell phone.
"Well, it was a bad accident but I think she is going to be ok. I hope that...I don't know. Just pray, ok?"
Sobbing into his cell phone he said "God be near us."
I knew she had passed and I knew the news they were about to receive. I heard the doctor's footsteps behind me, walking towards the waiting room to deliver the words no one wants to hear. As I distanced myself physically, I tried to distance myself mentally as well. The sounds of screams and sobs filled the hallway and I knew what they knew. Life was forever changed for them.
Life would be divided into before and after.
I couldn't help but think that just a few hours prior life was normal for them. Maybe they ate breakfast together and spent that saturday afternoon enjoying the weather or catching up with an old friend. Maybe they laughed as they drove down the road, not realizing that our paths would cross in a way no one wants to imagine. Maybe they discussed their plans for the week as I clocked in for my shift.
Tragedy can touch any of us. I truly believe life is more precious and delicate than most of us realize. And while none of us can fix it all or make anything perfect, I do believe we can take steps to humble ourselves and take nothing for granted.
Life isn't always fair, it's not always just, and at times we are inundated with a downpour of pain. I try to keep that in mind when I encounter someone who is less than *ahem* pleasant.
Later, that same night that I lost my patient, I encountered a family member in another unit that was less than polite with me. Let's face it, I was having a bad night. I felt down and I felt sad. This patient's daughter was rude and abrasive. She swore at me and I could do nothing right.
"If only she knew," I thought.
I left the room to fetch the millionth "petty" request for her. This time I think she had asked for a drinking straw. I had silently asked for a winning lottery ticket.
As I walked down the hall, the nurse stopped me and said "She just found out her mom's cancer is terminal. They are moving her to hospice tomorrow. Here's her new orders."
"If only I knew," I thought.
My approach with her was different, and although she remained verbally abusive and harsh, I knew that she was probably in the middle of her own personal storm and she probably didn't even realize how she was coming across.
What if, whenever you encountered rudness you treated that person as though they were in the middle of unknown pain? If you treated them a little kinder? It's not our place to judge others or seek revenge, but I know when I encounter hostility it's easier for me to be defensive than it is to give kidness. I can't always fix the whole picture, but maybe I can make it look a little better.
When I returned to their room I turned to the daughter and said "I'm so sorry for what you are going through..here's that straw you asked for. If there's anything else I can do just let me know. " With tears in her eyes she said "Thank you...that means a lot to me."
If only we knew.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Broadway
A few years ago, Adam and I lived in NYC while employed by a health care travel company that sends RTs/Nurses/etc out to hospitals, that are short staffed, on a contract basis. We were contracted for 3 months, but later extended it to a full 6 months. I remember arriving in Manhattan and unloading the car behind what would be our home. I also remember stepping inside our borrowed apartment where we would be living the next 6 months. It was fully furnished, but in reality it was a blank slate because I had no memories associated to it. It felt cold and unknown. I felt intimidated by the big city. Like a small animal scurrying among the bulls and the bears.
After unpacking just enough to get settled, and walking to the nearest market for some culinary necessities, we came home and leashed the dog up for a walk. He had spent the first year of his life in Vermont, and the previous few months in New Jersey, so he wasn't prepared for the gauntlet that would be his daily walk. Sherman rode the elevator to the first floor and emerged eagerly into the marble floored lobby. Tugging and yanking he choked through the lobby as his gasps of hurried excitement echoed through the large entry-way. His nails made a "clickity" sound on the floor as his tongue draped out the side of his gaping dog smile. I remember the doors swinging open as a gust of wind greeted us both in the face.
Welcome to New York City.
Sherman clomped down the steps and I immediately tugged him gently to the right so we could join the flow of pedestrian traffic. It was shortly after 6pm, so the streets were very busy. We were housed on Broadway and Wall St., so with that in mind, I'm sure you can picture what it looked like at that time of day. You could see the instant our pup realized that he was in a big new world. He stopped dead in his tracks as people rushed past us, nearly tripping over him and darting around him. He gazed around with wide eyes trying to make sense of it all. He lowered himself to the ground and nearly laid flat as if to say "Stop! Just stop while I figure out what this new life is!"
I feel the exact same way, puppy. I'm with you on this.
I encouraged him to keep walking and slowly he gained the confidence he needed to enjoy his walk at a leisurely pace with his chin held high. And soon enough I felt encouraged too. Sometimes all you need is a gentle tug in the right direction to give you the push you need to keep going.
I remember the night before we left home; I had packed all my things for what would be a minimum of 90 days away from what had been my home for 10 years. I looked around my apartment trying to memorize the color of the wall, the scent that was my home, the feel of the tile under my feet, how my kitchen looked when I was cooking in it, and the lush green trees out my windows. I was memorizing the familiar in anticipation of the unfamiliar.
I was supposed to go to my mom's place that night so she could wish me a "fond farewell" (as she puts it). I still feel guilty about this, but I called her and said I wouldn't be able to make it over, that I had too much to do, so we would have to say a simple "see ya later!" over the phone. She understood and wished me a safe trip, I wished for a stronger character. Truth is, I just couldn't bare to say goodbye to one more person. I had already said so many good-byes to friends and co-workers that I needed a simple "see you later". I needed some routine. I needed to be alone with my fears of the unknown and let my heart break a little bit by myself.
Anyone that knows me very well knows that I am a "Nester". I love being home, I love being close to my family and friends. Once I get comfortable somewhere, I have a very hard time breaking the routine and venturing into the unknown spaces. The whole traveling/contract thing basically fell into our laps. Due to some major issues with our previous employer, we felt that we absolutely had to leave and do the "traveling thing".
It's actually amazing how sometimes life throws you a curve ball and while it seems scary and out of place, it's exactly what you need at that time.
Sometimes we need to fall to get to where we are supposed to be.
I learned so much those months, and I look back at that time as a period of huge growth. I may have started out panicked, but something tugged me in the right direction and gave me the courage to walk leisurely ahead.
After unpacking just enough to get settled, and walking to the nearest market for some culinary necessities, we came home and leashed the dog up for a walk. He had spent the first year of his life in Vermont, and the previous few months in New Jersey, so he wasn't prepared for the gauntlet that would be his daily walk. Sherman rode the elevator to the first floor and emerged eagerly into the marble floored lobby. Tugging and yanking he choked through the lobby as his gasps of hurried excitement echoed through the large entry-way. His nails made a "clickity" sound on the floor as his tongue draped out the side of his gaping dog smile. I remember the doors swinging open as a gust of wind greeted us both in the face.
Welcome to New York City.
Sherman clomped down the steps and I immediately tugged him gently to the right so we could join the flow of pedestrian traffic. It was shortly after 6pm, so the streets were very busy. We were housed on Broadway and Wall St., so with that in mind, I'm sure you can picture what it looked like at that time of day. You could see the instant our pup realized that he was in a big new world. He stopped dead in his tracks as people rushed past us, nearly tripping over him and darting around him. He gazed around with wide eyes trying to make sense of it all. He lowered himself to the ground and nearly laid flat as if to say "Stop! Just stop while I figure out what this new life is!"
I feel the exact same way, puppy. I'm with you on this.
I encouraged him to keep walking and slowly he gained the confidence he needed to enjoy his walk at a leisurely pace with his chin held high. And soon enough I felt encouraged too. Sometimes all you need is a gentle tug in the right direction to give you the push you need to keep going.
I remember the night before we left home; I had packed all my things for what would be a minimum of 90 days away from what had been my home for 10 years. I looked around my apartment trying to memorize the color of the wall, the scent that was my home, the feel of the tile under my feet, how my kitchen looked when I was cooking in it, and the lush green trees out my windows. I was memorizing the familiar in anticipation of the unfamiliar.
I was supposed to go to my mom's place that night so she could wish me a "fond farewell" (as she puts it). I still feel guilty about this, but I called her and said I wouldn't be able to make it over, that I had too much to do, so we would have to say a simple "see ya later!" over the phone. She understood and wished me a safe trip, I wished for a stronger character. Truth is, I just couldn't bare to say goodbye to one more person. I had already said so many good-byes to friends and co-workers that I needed a simple "see you later". I needed some routine. I needed to be alone with my fears of the unknown and let my heart break a little bit by myself.
Anyone that knows me very well knows that I am a "Nester". I love being home, I love being close to my family and friends. Once I get comfortable somewhere, I have a very hard time breaking the routine and venturing into the unknown spaces. The whole traveling/contract thing basically fell into our laps. Due to some major issues with our previous employer, we felt that we absolutely had to leave and do the "traveling thing".
It's actually amazing how sometimes life throws you a curve ball and while it seems scary and out of place, it's exactly what you need at that time.
Sometimes we need to fall to get to where we are supposed to be.
I learned so much those months, and I look back at that time as a period of huge growth. I may have started out panicked, but something tugged me in the right direction and gave me the courage to walk leisurely ahead.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Island Hygiene
When Adam and I went to Belize in November of 2007, I had never been to a carribbean destination before. I had not even been to a tropical destination for that matter. The closest I had been up until that point was Disney World. Spinning Teacups, Mickey Mouse, and throwing up a $9 hot dog from a place called "Goofy's Grub" can't really be defined as "tropical". But, Disney World has palm trees, people. So by that alone, it is very tropical.
It's all about the palm trees.
It's all about the palm trees.
When we arrived in Belize City, we wandered through the airport to catch our connecting "puddle jumper" flight to Ambergris Caye. Philip S.W. Goldson Int'l Airport looks more like a Hertz car rental. They actually announce your name overhead when it's time to board the plane. Needless to say, the island vibe was evident as soon as I entered the country. I remember standing in line waiting for customs, and feeling a tad nervous. I had my fresh new passport in hand, declaration form filled out and patiently waited my turn. When the customs officer - a Belize native - motioned me to his podium I quickly realize my nerves were for nothing. He glanced at my passport and then stared directly at my chest and said "What does your shirt say?"
::blink blink::
My shirt had text in a circular shape over my, ahem, heart. I told him what it said, he smiled at me and welcomed me to Belize. I honestly don't even think he looked at my name on my passport.
So there you have it. All you need to get into Belize is a passport (for posterity's sake), and a shirt that has text over your boob.
Belize, I love you.
We spent the week in a beach front condo-style resort, with the ocean lapping gently against the shore that was our front porch. I'll never forget the bath-water warm waters, kayaking as the sun set, the lush island plants, bicycling through San Pedro, fishing, and most of all how relaxed I felt.
In addition to clothing, I had packed the usual travel necessities: hair dryer, flat iron, styling products, and make-up. After 2 hours on the island I realized I had wasted my time, and wasted space in my bag because I wasn't going to use any of it. I was an island girl, if even for a short time. I spent the rest of the week in shorts and t-shirts that would normally only be used as loungewear at home. One day I even ventured out to dinner in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that I usually used as pajamas.
There really is nothing more joyous than eating dinner at a resort in your pajamas. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend it.
As the trip wore on, I found my standard of hygiene slowly slipping. I was re-using shorts, sniff testing t-shirts, and recycling cover-ups. I distincly remember one morning grabbing a t-shirt that I had tossed into the dirty pile, sniffing it, and wondering to myself how I could have thought it was dirty enough for the "Take Home and Wash!" pile. It smelled of sand and SPF. Perfectly suitable for an afternoon of beachcombing and gorging on key lime pie. I probably would have considered a Wal-Mart t-shirt and some Hanes shorts "black-tie" by that point.
Like I said, the standard of hygiene was, umm, slipping away. It was really hard to return to work and have to actually make an effort on my appearance. It was even harder to drive through rush-hour traffic and drive at the same pace as everyone else, when I really felt like floating down the highway at 30mph. I was in slow-mo for a solid 2 weeks after that. What bliss.
I thought I wouldn't ever find a place as wonderful, and as conducive to relaxation, as Belize.
But then we went to Hawaii. And it was just as sweet. I spent many an afternoon lost in the blissful warmth of the island, sipping away at a banana smoothie with the scents of plumeria and tropical fruit in the air. I noticed a distinctive scent in our room each day...I still haven't figured out what it was (flower, fruit, etc) but it was there, each evening, as I fell asleep to the waves lapping the shores. It was the scent of the island. It was the scent of what it's like to take a deep breath and feel paradise all around you. That may sound like an exaggeration, but that is exactly how I felt.
And, once again, I found my standards of hygiene slipping away with my cares. I lived in ratty shorts and tattered shirts. My bathing suit was my closet staple, and my skin was smoothed by sand rubbing away the top layer of my busy life back home. There's nothing else quite like putting on gym shorts and feeling a tad overdressed for dinner.
But that's the island life.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Weekend Randomness
I have a shameful interest in all things celebrity. I'll admit I was all over perezhilton.com when Britney was in her rock bottom state. If you have no idea what I am talking about then bless you. You have a more interesting life than me. I watched every episode of the Bachelor and cheered Melissa on when she called him a bas*ard. Seriously, was he NOT the most emotional man you've ever seen?
With the exception of my ex who cried when I told him I needed room to breathe. You would have thought I had just told him they discontinued Girl Scout Samoas.
I was also all over the gossip sites when Jessica Simpson wore those pants that should be removed from every supplier and burned to a crisp. Again, if you have no idea what I am talking about, bless you. You have a more interesting life than me. But for visual aid these are the jeans I am talking about:
Now I think it's completely ridiculous that the media called her fat. She's obviously not fat, she just fell victim to some bad denim. Or maybe a few Samoas. It happens to the best of us. And those pockets aren't doing anything for her.
She opened up for Rascall Flatts here in Phoenix last week. I thought she looked pretty small:
I'm rocking the sweet photography skills as usual. Is that a fingerprint on the right side? Anyway, all this to say if the media calls THAT fat, what would they say about me? I'd be on People magazine each week looking bloated and dense. Reaching maximum density would be the cover headline. Jessica, can I borrow those jeans?
We have been trying to eat more and home and less at restaurants so I've been experimenting a lot with some new recipes lately. Last week, I made Broiled Tilapia Parmesan. It was awesome and has become a fast favorite here at my house.
Recipe:
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup butter, softened
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon onion powder
1/8 teaspoon celery salt
2 pounds tilapia fillets
1/4 cup butter, softened
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon onion powder
1/8 teaspoon celery salt
2 pounds tilapia fillets
Preheat your oven's broiler. Grease a broiling pan or line pan with aluminum foil.
In a small bowl, mix together the Parmesan cheese, butter, mayonnaise and lemon juice. Season with dried basil, pepper, onion powder and celery salt. Mix well and set aside.
Arrange fillets in a single layer - Bottom side of the fish facing up - on the prepared pan. Broil a few inches from the heat for 2 to 3 minutes. Flip the fillets over - right side up- and broil for a couple more minutes. Remove the fillets from the oven and cover them with the Parmesan cheese mixture on the top side. Broil for 2 more minutes or until the topping is browned and fish flakes easily with a fork. Be careful not to over cook the fish.
I paired it with garlic mashed potatoes because I'm on the Ineedcelluite diet. A nice salad and maybe some green beans would be a healthier alternative. We are allergic to salad in my house.
For your viewing pleasure:
Enjoy the rest of your weekend!
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Spider and the Doorway
If you've read my previous posts on this blog you are aware that I have phobias. I am afraid of heights, spiders, public speaking, spiders, scorpions, spiders....you get the idea. Adam and I built our first house and moved in early Spring of 2008. After months of finding crickets, spiders, scorpions (on the porch), more crickets, and a few black widows, I was starting to question my sanity and my reasoning behind loving a guy who just didn't care about the same things I did.
How can you NOT be terrified of a spider? They're icky.
The house is structually sound and very well built. However, we live in the desert and these things just find their way in. Especially when you are married to a guy that never closes doors. Adam once got out of the passenger side of our car and waltzed into Barnes and Nobel, killed a half hour browsing with me, then walked back out to the car to find that he had left the car door open. Not just unlocked, but hanging open.
After finding a black widow by our garage door just chillaxin in the night on her tangled web of fear, I had an emotional breakdown (Hello, phobia! Good to see you again!) that involved me screaming crying (Scrying) about wanting and needing Pest Control services to frequent our house. If it was up to me they'd be circling our casa at all hours of the night blasting away at anything that scurries. Adam didn't seem to care; he told me to stop scrying and get over it. I told him to take a hike. I guess he took me very literally because he quickly left the presence of the Fire Breathing Spider Hater.
While Adam went for a walk to distance himself from the Scrying Wife Girl, I decided I needed to vent and started feverishly texting my sister. But instead of texting my sister I mistakenly texted my rant directly to Adam's phone.
Oops. Sorry hubbs.
After some apologies, and some serious conversations, we realized that he was just concerned about cost. It turned out to be very affordable so we scheduled routine appointments for the pest people to come blast the perimeter to oblivion. Peace for me..and peace for the husband.
Oh! And I realized that I shouldn't mouth off about my sweet hubbs in a text again.
Or at least be really careful about who you send it to.
It's been a blissful few months until we got home tonight after going out for dinner and a concert. As I unlocked the garage door (seriously, what is it about the garage door that attracts these things??) there she was.
Tan. Eight legs. Staring. Dangling from gossamer that glistened in the moonlight.
I think I launched the house keys into the next zip code and threw my hands into the air as I ran screaming into the night. Adam calmly tried to pick the Freak off the door to set her outside.
That's the true definition of someone who wouldn't hurt a flea, huh?
What is wrong with him??! Had I been alone (I shudder at the thought) I would have gotten a bottle of spray and a hammer and obliterated the arachnid until not longer recgonizable. It would have been my own personal CSI:Araneus diadematus.
Unfortunately for me, he dropped her and she promptly scurried into the house. Adam just doesn't move fast enough for me so I barrelled past him, grabbed one of his sneakers that was by the door, and started slamming the spider with my Nike weapon. I think I gave her 23 blows. Death by blunt force trauma.
I want to make this next part very clear: Never - NEVER! - use your own shoe to annihilate a spider. That will only leave you with spider remnants on your shoes, and thats just gross, ladies. However, your husband's shoes are perfectly acceptable. Actually, anything that belongs to your husband is fair game, especially if you have given birth to his child. (We don't have kids yet so I have to stick to shoes only.)
I told him I was going to set his shoes outside since there was spider pate on the sole. He scoffed at the idea while wiping the juice from his shoe. After he settled in for the night, I did this:
The wife always wins. :)
How can you NOT be terrified of a spider? They're icky.
The house is structually sound and very well built. However, we live in the desert and these things just find their way in. Especially when you are married to a guy that never closes doors. Adam once got out of the passenger side of our car and waltzed into Barnes and Nobel, killed a half hour browsing with me, then walked back out to the car to find that he had left the car door open. Not just unlocked, but hanging open.
After finding a black widow by our garage door just chillaxin in the night on her tangled web of fear, I had an emotional breakdown (Hello, phobia! Good to see you again!) that involved me screaming crying (Scrying) about wanting and needing Pest Control services to frequent our house. If it was up to me they'd be circling our casa at all hours of the night blasting away at anything that scurries. Adam didn't seem to care; he told me to stop scrying and get over it. I told him to take a hike. I guess he took me very literally because he quickly left the presence of the Fire Breathing Spider Hater.
While Adam went for a walk to distance himself from the Scrying Wife Girl, I decided I needed to vent and started feverishly texting my sister. But instead of texting my sister I mistakenly texted my rant directly to Adam's phone.
Oops. Sorry hubbs.
After some apologies, and some serious conversations, we realized that he was just concerned about cost. It turned out to be very affordable so we scheduled routine appointments for the pest people to come blast the perimeter to oblivion. Peace for me..and peace for the husband.
Oh! And I realized that I shouldn't mouth off about my sweet hubbs in a text again.
Or at least be really careful about who you send it to.
It's been a blissful few months until we got home tonight after going out for dinner and a concert. As I unlocked the garage door (seriously, what is it about the garage door that attracts these things??) there she was.
Tan. Eight legs. Staring. Dangling from gossamer that glistened in the moonlight.
I think I launched the house keys into the next zip code and threw my hands into the air as I ran screaming into the night. Adam calmly tried to pick the Freak off the door to set her outside.
That's the true definition of someone who wouldn't hurt a flea, huh?
What is wrong with him??! Had I been alone (I shudder at the thought) I would have gotten a bottle of spray and a hammer and obliterated the arachnid until not longer recgonizable. It would have been my own personal CSI:Araneus diadematus.
Unfortunately for me, he dropped her and she promptly scurried into the house. Adam just doesn't move fast enough for me so I barrelled past him, grabbed one of his sneakers that was by the door, and started slamming the spider with my Nike weapon. I think I gave her 23 blows. Death by blunt force trauma.
I want to make this next part very clear: Never - NEVER! - use your own shoe to annihilate a spider. That will only leave you with spider remnants on your shoes, and thats just gross, ladies. However, your husband's shoes are perfectly acceptable. Actually, anything that belongs to your husband is fair game, especially if you have given birth to his child. (We don't have kids yet so I have to stick to shoes only.)
I told him I was going to set his shoes outside since there was spider pate on the sole. He scoffed at the idea while wiping the juice from his shoe. After he settled in for the night, I did this:
The wife always wins. :)Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Facebook Part II: The UNfriending Phenomenon
Lately I've come across a few people affected by the Facebook/Myspace phenomenon called "UNfriending". Basically, on these sites you have your personal page that you can use to communicate your interests, activities, and lifestyle. You can also load photos and "personalize" your page with fun quotes, glitter graphics, videos, and website links. Recently, I sent my sister a link to this: Spider you are my hero.
On Facebook and Myspace you also have a list of friends. You can freely add as many friends as you like to your friend list (as long as they, too have a Facebook/Myspace account - of course.). You can also freely remove friends from your list should you so choose to. However, this is the modern day equivalent of being publicly out casted on the elementary school playground. I speak from experience....It's like living that day over again when you just couldn't overcome your fear of heights and climb to the top of the slide during recess. It was an ominous looking slide that seemed to touch the sky at it's highest point. The slide that everyone was required to - via secret society - cycle through at least once if they wanted to be part of the Cool Kids Kindergarten Crowd (CKKC Inc).
I remember so badly wanting to be like the other kids, so I climbed to the top of the ladder, realized how high up I was, (my childhood was full of phobias) and promptly decided to gingerly lower myself back down to the bottom. There is also an accepted form of tailgating on the slide ladder. For example, once you have climbed to the top and are ready to "weeeee" it all the way to the bottom, you have a line of 5 or 6 kids already hooked on various points of the ladder eagerly awaiting their turn at the top. So, my change of mind required that approx. 6 other kids climb off the ladder so I could escape the Steel Hell Trap and get out of line.
I could hear the giggles, whispering, and teasing begin before I had even placed my foot on the last step.
But in the end, I just couldn't do it. All the other kids made fun of me and called me a "dumb scardy cat" because I was afraid of the slide. In my defense, this thing was HIGH. And stainless steel. And in the sun. I'm sorry but I still don't find it desirable to slide down something 35ft in the air burning my hamstrings along the way. That screeching squeaking sound of bare thigh skin on hot steel slide surface still makes me sweat with fear. Despite the taunting, I preferred to sit in my solitude and swing peacefully back and forth on the swing set.... Much safer that way. I was the risk analyst of 5-year-olds.
Although it was kind of sad watching from a distance 25 kids taking turns going up and down the Slide of Death, I was happier on the swings. I wanted to be cool enough for the Slide of Death too, but I just wasn't. I don't think the frilly dresses that matched my socks that matched my hair bows that co-ordinated to the colorful foods packed in my co-ordinated lunch bag was any aid in making me popular. Something tells me this only hindered it. I spent the rest of recess swinging away next to John, the Glue Eating King.
And so it began....a long list of bad male relationships.
Back to Facebook....
This thing called "UNfriending" is the modern day equivalent of saying "YOU are a poo poo head!! I don't like YOU anymore and YOU can't play with us!" which leaves you no choice but to gather your belongings and return home - alone - to hang out with mom while she makes Saturday Night Tuna Casserole while singing along to Lawrence Welk.
I have to admit, UNfriending can really sneak up on you and slap you silly. There I sat, clicking away on various links and pictures, catching up on the latest vacation photos of friends and loved ones, when I realized it: My friend list numerical tally had dropped by 1. I had gone from 25 friends to 24 friends since my previous log in. I immediately started scrolling through my friend list trying to determine who had Dirty Deleted me. Once I had figured out who was missing (because once you are added as a friend you have a contractual obligation to stay on my list forever...duh) I started obsessing over what would cause this person to not want to be my Myspace friend. I felt alone, betrayed, hurt, and most of all: UNpopular. This was like showing up to the Junior Winter Ball in THIS only to quickly realize that you are the ONLY ONE who is wearing red (sequins!!!!) to the winter ball. At least my mom didn't talk me into wearing this one. Oy!
I decided to take the mature approach and confront the UNfriender person face-to-face. I was met with complete shock (I guess no one thinks you will take the mature approach to appropriate communication) and a blank stare. After some uncomfortable silence, the UNfriender said "Uh....derrrrr....I had heard you said something bad about me."
Oh ok! So that means listen to what someone else says, Dirty Delete me, and then gallop off into silence while I'm left with the virtual Slap In Your Face. Niiiiiiice. This makes up for me being homeschooled throughout junior high.
The most outrageous UNfriending recently happened to my brother-in-law. Remember Mr. Auto? Well, after some not-so-pleasant exchanges back and forth between Mr Auto and his own sister, a serious family debate started over her klassy cheating and abusive boyfriend. Mr. Auto was just looking out for his sister and trying to encourage her in developing enough strength to leave an abusive and dysfunctional relationship. A few days later, Mr. Auto's sister Dirty Deleted him from her friend list. Yup, his own flesh and blood tossed him out on the streets of Facebook. She banned her brother from her friend list....so I guess if she can't UNfamily him she figures UNfriending is a close second? I can only imagine her as she angrily clicked through her log on and password prompts, only to furiously click through her settings menu and then finally click click click away as she managed her friend list. The clock struck midnight as she Dirty Deleted her own brother.
I wish there was some sort of Internet badge of honor that said "I was DELETED by my sister, and I lived to tell about it!"
Maybe I'll make a flair button for that.
Delete Victims Unite!
On Facebook and Myspace you also have a list of friends. You can freely add as many friends as you like to your friend list (as long as they, too have a Facebook/Myspace account - of course.). You can also freely remove friends from your list should you so choose to. However, this is the modern day equivalent of being publicly out casted on the elementary school playground. I speak from experience....It's like living that day over again when you just couldn't overcome your fear of heights and climb to the top of the slide during recess. It was an ominous looking slide that seemed to touch the sky at it's highest point. The slide that everyone was required to - via secret society - cycle through at least once if they wanted to be part of the Cool Kids Kindergarten Crowd (CKKC Inc).
I remember so badly wanting to be like the other kids, so I climbed to the top of the ladder, realized how high up I was, (my childhood was full of phobias) and promptly decided to gingerly lower myself back down to the bottom. There is also an accepted form of tailgating on the slide ladder. For example, once you have climbed to the top and are ready to "weeeee" it all the way to the bottom, you have a line of 5 or 6 kids already hooked on various points of the ladder eagerly awaiting their turn at the top. So, my change of mind required that approx. 6 other kids climb off the ladder so I could escape the Steel Hell Trap and get out of line.
I could hear the giggles, whispering, and teasing begin before I had even placed my foot on the last step.
But in the end, I just couldn't do it. All the other kids made fun of me and called me a "dumb scardy cat" because I was afraid of the slide. In my defense, this thing was HIGH. And stainless steel. And in the sun. I'm sorry but I still don't find it desirable to slide down something 35ft in the air burning my hamstrings along the way. That screeching squeaking sound of bare thigh skin on hot steel slide surface still makes me sweat with fear. Despite the taunting, I preferred to sit in my solitude and swing peacefully back and forth on the swing set.... Much safer that way. I was the risk analyst of 5-year-olds.
Although it was kind of sad watching from a distance 25 kids taking turns going up and down the Slide of Death, I was happier on the swings. I wanted to be cool enough for the Slide of Death too, but I just wasn't. I don't think the frilly dresses that matched my socks that matched my hair bows that co-ordinated to the colorful foods packed in my co-ordinated lunch bag was any aid in making me popular. Something tells me this only hindered it. I spent the rest of recess swinging away next to John, the Glue Eating King.
And so it began....a long list of bad male relationships.
Back to Facebook....
This thing called "UNfriending" is the modern day equivalent of saying "YOU are a poo poo head!! I don't like YOU anymore and YOU can't play with us!" which leaves you no choice but to gather your belongings and return home - alone - to hang out with mom while she makes Saturday Night Tuna Casserole while singing along to Lawrence Welk.
I have to admit, UNfriending can really sneak up on you and slap you silly. There I sat, clicking away on various links and pictures, catching up on the latest vacation photos of friends and loved ones, when I realized it: My friend list numerical tally had dropped by 1. I had gone from 25 friends to 24 friends since my previous log in. I immediately started scrolling through my friend list trying to determine who had Dirty Deleted me. Once I had figured out who was missing (because once you are added as a friend you have a contractual obligation to stay on my list forever...duh) I started obsessing over what would cause this person to not want to be my Myspace friend. I felt alone, betrayed, hurt, and most of all: UNpopular. This was like showing up to the Junior Winter Ball in THIS only to quickly realize that you are the ONLY ONE who is wearing red (sequins!!!!) to the winter ball. At least my mom didn't talk me into wearing this one. Oy!
I decided to take the mature approach and confront the UNfriender person face-to-face. I was met with complete shock (I guess no one thinks you will take the mature approach to appropriate communication) and a blank stare. After some uncomfortable silence, the UNfriender said "Uh....derrrrr....I had heard you said something bad about me."
Oh ok! So that means listen to what someone else says, Dirty Delete me, and then gallop off into silence while I'm left with the virtual Slap In Your Face. Niiiiiiice. This makes up for me being homeschooled throughout junior high.
The most outrageous UNfriending recently happened to my brother-in-law. Remember Mr. Auto? Well, after some not-so-pleasant exchanges back and forth between Mr Auto and his own sister, a serious family debate started over her klassy cheating and abusive boyfriend. Mr. Auto was just looking out for his sister and trying to encourage her in developing enough strength to leave an abusive and dysfunctional relationship. A few days later, Mr. Auto's sister Dirty Deleted him from her friend list. Yup, his own flesh and blood tossed him out on the streets of Facebook. She banned her brother from her friend list....so I guess if she can't UNfamily him she figures UNfriending is a close second? I can only imagine her as she angrily clicked through her log on and password prompts, only to furiously click through her settings menu and then finally click click click away as she managed her friend list. The clock struck midnight as she Dirty Deleted her own brother.
I wish there was some sort of Internet badge of honor that said "I was DELETED by my sister, and I lived to tell about it!"
Maybe I'll make a flair button for that.
Delete Victims Unite!
Saving Money by Bargain Shopping
While reading some of my favorite blogs, I noticed that Kelly updated about dressing cute for less, and finding clothing bargains during a recession. I thought this was a good idea and decided to share some of my own ideas here. First of all, I rarely pay full price for my clothes. Occasionally I will splurge on some expensive jeans (think 7 For All Mankind brand, or True Religion brand) but when I last bought them from Macy's, I waited for a store wide sale and brought along a 20% off coupon I had which saved me A LOT. And these jeans last me for YEARS so I find it worth the money. But that's just me. For those that enjoy even more affordable deals, I have found some really good jeans at Old Navy and Target. Again, I always wait for sales/coupons. A few times a month I will go to some of my favorite clothing sites and look at the clearance pages to see if anything has popped up - on clearance! - that I'd really love to add to the wardrobe. For Macy's I will go to http://www.macys.com/ and click on "sale" and then click on "clearance". I recently found a really cute top that looks great with black pants on sale for $16! It was originally $50!
Old Navy has a clearance section on their website too. If you go to http://www.oldnavy.com/ and click on Women and then scroll down on the left you will see "Clearance".
I saw a long sleeved shirt there after Christmas and bought it on sale (It was normally $15, I got it right after the holidays for $10). I love long sleeved shirts like this (Link here) to wear under my scrub tops at work. You can also wear it to run errands on the weekend with a pair of jeans and it even extends into spring with a pair of shorts. So, I went to the oldnavy website and just now found it - the same shirt! - for $2.99!!!!!!!
Now THAT's a bargain!!!!
I really love the clothes at http://www.victoriassecret.com/ but I refuse to pay full price there. The stuff ALWAYS goes on sale and it's easy to find sale items in your size. I had my eye on this top a couple months ago but didn't want to spend $48 on it. I'm so glad I waited because it's on sale for $20!
Old Navy has a clearance section on their website too. If you go to http://www.oldnavy.com/ and click on Women and then scroll down on the left you will see "Clearance".
I saw a long sleeved shirt there after Christmas and bought it on sale (It was normally $15, I got it right after the holidays for $10). I love long sleeved shirts like this (Link here) to wear under my scrub tops at work. You can also wear it to run errands on the weekend with a pair of jeans and it even extends into spring with a pair of shorts. So, I went to the oldnavy website and just now found it - the same shirt! - for $2.99!!!!!!!
Now THAT's a bargain!!!!
I really love the clothes at http://www.victoriassecret.com/ but I refuse to pay full price there. The stuff ALWAYS goes on sale and it's easy to find sale items in your size. I had my eye on this top a couple months ago but didn't want to spend $48 on it. I'm so glad I waited because it's on sale for $20!
The right accessories can make ANY outfit more polished looking. Sometimes when I'm in a hurry but still want to look good, I'll pair a simple fitted T from Target (less than $10) with jeans and a scarf. Add some kickin' little boots and you got yourself easy style!
Charlotte Russe has a lot of fashion jewelry for really low prices! And they are ALWAYS offering sales! Forever 21 also has a lot of fashion jewelry for low prices too. The store is really similar to Charlotte, and you can ALWAYS find cute this for reasonable prices.
I have a love for Ugg boots (I know some people think they are ugly) because they are SO comfortable and basically go with any casual outfit during the winter. However, I don't love the Ugg price so after some searching I found a knock off brand at www.zappos.com for half the price of real Uggs. And the cheaper brand are JUST AS COMFY! The brand is Bear Paw.
I'd love to hear other suggestions! Let me know your ideas!
Happy Shopping, and Happy Bargain Hunting!
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