Saturday, September 7, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
The Classic Fair Experience
I hit 60. WOOT! Chanel's gift to me was a trip the Western Idaho Fair. Hadn't been for years and was looking forward to chowing down the midway. You just can't beat the sheer geographic density of coronary-clogging goodies at a fair
So here's how it went.
1. We pulled into the back 40 parking lot, hopped out and inhaled. Oh, the aroma of deep fryers and grease! Lovely. It hung lower than smoke over Sun Valley. No wonder people walked at a good clip from the back 40, to the middle 40, to the front 40 acres of parking.
2. Through the gates, stopped at the Idaho Statesman booth for the food coupon book, tore out our favorites and off......
3. But first a detour through the exhibition buildings. I loved all the quilts and stitchery. Loved the food displays. Loved the photography. Loved looking at the paintings with Kevin not around. (He takes hours and appreciates them all.) Chanel & I took minutes, picked our favorites and then hustled to the commercial booths. Favorite: Remember the 60's when you could lose your fat via vibrating belt machines? Well now we have platforms. Stand on the platform, hang onto the handy rail, flip the On switch and ta da! Your booty fairly shakes itself. You don't have to move a muscle or break a sweat. It just made me laugh and I would have laughed harder had I known what the salesmen were charging (and guaranteeing) for such a machine. Well, we successfully negotiated all aisles and all salesmen and left the building with nary one business card, brochure, or flyer. I also kept it a big secret from the 20 or so cell phone booths that I'm still the only woman in America without one. Imagine the feeding frenzy.
4. On to the petting zoo. I must say those were some pretty docile Texas Longhorns whose noggins I was scratching.
5. And then the MIDWAY. I got the footlong corndog, slathered in mustard. Chanel, a cup of Churros.
6. We settled in to watch Lady Houdini hold her breath in a tank of water long enough to shuck locks and locks and locks. What a set of lungs! Her male partner (husband?) bragged it was her 1099th escape from death. His contribution to the act was to flinch & gasp at choreographed intervals + fish the locks,locks,locks out of the tank via magnet afterward. I also noticed he flirted with blondes on the side. We also watched the Black Street Boys because cheesy acts are all part of the fair experience.
7. By now the sun had set, the temperature cooled, and the crowds exploded. It was full time jostling to work our way to Carnival Land and stand in the long line for the Ferris Wheel. Having no tatoos to show the world, I felt quite out of place. And no one to make-out with. Just me and Chanel, two conservative little ladies in the the Drinking, Happy, Kissy crowd. What a relief to get our own wheel bucket and rise about it all. Turns out Chanel likes Ferris Wheels; doesn't like swinging the bucket in Ferris Wheels.
8. Thank you Idaho Statesman for including a Delsa's Ice Cream coupon in your book. The strawberry shortcake was the best and totally topped off the evening.
9. Biggest disappointment: Not being very hungry after that corndog. My brain wanted the gyro sandwiches, the Idaho Pizza breadsticks, and the baked potato ice cream, the pulled pork bbq, the elephant ears, the Navajo bread, and the 1 pound of french fries. Had to settle for mere inhaling and rolling out of there at midnight.
10. As we left, I said to Chanel, "Isn't this just like leaving Disneyland at the end of day? So sad, such a letdown. After months of saving and anticipating? Then it's overwith?" Nah--We went back to her apartment and watch 2 1/2hrs of Les Mis. Life is always a party with Chanel.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Dream car
We're shopping to replace both vehicles. Found MY car tonight, a red jaguar, well within the budget. I just love that cat hood ornament. I've told Kevin many times he can snap one off somebody's else's jag and hot glue to our van. Cheaper and just as cool in my book.
File under new uses for hot glue in Pinterest.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Grandpa's van rumbles forth
Though the tires still had plenty of tread, it was ancient rubber. Aaron had supposed he would replace all tires on the reunion weekend, but he never got around to it.
Hence Sunday afternoon he rumbled out of Nampa,about 2PMish with 100-degree temp, no A/C, into the desert with ancient and untested tires. (insert prayers here) He called from Burley. OK so far. About 10PM we got word via text from Chanel that one tire had shredded near Tremonton.
We called him. "Don't worry mom & dad. I put on the spare." (equally ancient, equally iffy, and a different size from the blown tire) "I plan to drive about 45 mph on the shoulder and I have several friends between here and Taylorsville who I can call for help if I need it."
Phone call from Taylorsville @ 1:30AM. "I'm home."
Can you imagine....12 hours in that thing? At least I can check if off my list of things to worry about.
PS. Three weeks ago Aaron, his kids, and us took the van for a picnic. This is when Aaron discovered in the little kitchenette cupboard that grandma had left it fully stocked with paper plates, cups, napkins, an old tablecloth, and a tub of unmatched silverware. Isn't that just like her--to leave things neatly prepared for the next outing? Believe me, the paper patterns were all vintage. You can't buy stuff like that nowdays.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
In honor of Uncle Richards and my shared birthdays: a cat story
Dashaway, our 19-yr-old cat, had become arthritic, incontinent, bony, toothless, mangy and banned to the garage. (For the incontinence) Kevin & I were at an impasse. I wanted euthanasia. He wanted resurrection via vet bills, meds, lab tests, etc. Money was spent and diagnosis obtained. The vet said bad thyroid requiring weekly lab tests to regulate. For our efforts Dashaway might regain her weight, but vet gave no guarantee for curing the incontinence.
Kevin wanted to proceed. He felt sinful about euthanasia. I presented him with a handful of human medical bills, which I didn't know (at the time) how I would pay. I guess he saw which should be the higher priority because he agreed to euthanasia if I promised to never, never, never have another cat the rest of my life.
This is a hard promise for a cat-lover, but I made my deal the with Devil and Dashaway went to Heaven.
This brings me to Aaron & Chanel. Weeks later they were hanging out in the SLC Disney store when they spied the fat, plush Lucifer from Cinderella. They slapped high fives and chortled,"Mom has got to have this cat!" Oh, I laughed when Chanel brought it home! Lucifer sits on my bed with his permanent sneer, resembling the anti-social Dashaway perfectly, only fatter and not opposed to a good belly-rubbing. I think he will satisfy my latent cat-loving as the years go by.
Wilson kids, do me a favor and go buy a cat for your father.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Pain
Did I tell you a jammed my right shoulder? Try this: go from a standing position to sitting on the floor and notice how you might use one arm to brace yourself from falling in a heap. That's what I did on the grass at the bus stop 10 days ago. I've sat on the grass 5 days a week for 6 weeks now and managed to not injure myself. But on that day, YOWZAAA!!!!! Pop went something, followed my shooting hot pain through my right arm and fingers started going numb. I wondered to myself, "Now you're in a pickle. How do you propose to get yourself back to standing with a limp right arm?'" Right about then a lawnmower guy came by needing to mow that patch of lawn. It was either get off my butt or death by mowing. Me and my dangling arm managed to get up, on the bus, and home.
Interesting disability. I can't or couldn't:
1. run the van gear shift
2. reach across for a seat belt
3. pull up pants
4. pull arms in & out of sleeves
5. pull up left bra strap
6. shake hands w/arm extended
7. hold anything weighty, like a jug of milk or the iron
8. reach laterally across my body
But time has passed and I've swallowed plenty of Tylenol. Some mobility has returned, but I gave up and went to the doctor today.
X-rays show nothing broken, so it's a muscle tear of some sort, curable with more pain killers, more time, & some physical therapy.
I have learned to LOVE my left arm. So dextrous!. So helpful! So good in a pinch! So handy to have! kiss kiss kiss
On the way home from the doctor I fulfilled a life-long fantasy. I pulled onto 12th ave road directly behind a wailing firetruck, hit the gas, and sped a mile down the street on his tail. And NOBODY was in my path because he, of course, had cleared it. Oh it was fun!. All these cars pulled to the sides except me happily zipping past and feeling like I had won something. Cross that off my bucket list.
Interesting disability. I can't or couldn't:
1. run the van gear shift
2. reach across for a seat belt
3. pull up pants
4. pull arms in & out of sleeves
5. pull up left bra strap
6. shake hands w/arm extended
7. hold anything weighty, like a jug of milk or the iron
8. reach laterally across my body
But time has passed and I've swallowed plenty of Tylenol. Some mobility has returned, but I gave up and went to the doctor today.
X-rays show nothing broken, so it's a muscle tear of some sort, curable with more pain killers, more time, & some physical therapy.
I have learned to LOVE my left arm. So dextrous!. So helpful! So good in a pinch! So handy to have! kiss kiss kiss
On the way home from the doctor I fulfilled a life-long fantasy. I pulled onto 12th ave road directly behind a wailing firetruck, hit the gas, and sped a mile down the street on his tail. And NOBODY was in my path because he, of course, had cleared it. Oh it was fun!. All these cars pulled to the sides except me happily zipping past and feeling like I had won something. Cross that off my bucket list.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The wheels on the bus go round & round
Whatever was I worried about? I feel like one of my four life problems has just fallen off the radar. I tell you--bus riding is soothing. Snooze in the AM. Reading the PM.
Interesting characters and famous lookalikes. Thusfar I've sat next to Johnny Depp
(as his Jack Sparrow character) and Stephen King.
I love my new office, my location in the office, the new walk I take both at lunch and after work, the huge windows which allow me to see thunderstorms arriving from the West, the double monitors, and the smoking hot printer which can print, copy, & fax so fast my head spins.
I've lost my bus pass once. (A 30-day pass, used only 8 days) But it miraculously came back the next day.
So I've been all surprised/happy for 2 weeks now and here's the irony. On the day my Nampa office closed, I came home to a phone message from a nurse friend. She works at Midland Care & Rehab where their head medical biller had just walked off the job. #2 biller was promoted, leaving a vacancy. Was I interested? (Let's see--Midland Care is about 2 miles from home. Yes, I am interested.) Then the administrator called me. We set up an interview, but in the meantime I started work in Boise and found I liked it. I tell you, there is nothing so sweet as a fact finding interview when you're not desperate. Bottom line: We are not exactly perfect for each other, but if they want to make an offer, I'm willing to compare apples to apples (salary/paid time off) and make a decision. Another week has passed. They haven't called back I am happy with that too. I mentioned I could give them a list of a dozen other women more suited to the job. Whatever happens, everybody wins. Then I dropped my bus pass in the administrator's office, though I didn't know it until the next day.
Anyway, the past year and half of job fretting and stewing is gone and good riddance to it. Actually I feel really blessed to be able to keep my job, my great boss, and the new corporation chose a building site 1/2 block from the bus stop on this side of Boise, which allows me to get to work by 7:30. If they had chosen anywhere else..........I guess I'd be begging for that care center job.
ha ha The care center had a black labrador lolling on the black leather couch in the admin's office. I was told "if the dog licks your hand, you get the job." He didn't.
------change of subject-----
Chanel treated Kevin & I to "Wicked." WOWOWOWOWOWO!!!!! I told her I have to go again watch it from backstage. The stagecraft was as fascinating as the story.
Interesting characters and famous lookalikes. Thusfar I've sat next to Johnny Depp
(as his Jack Sparrow character) and Stephen King.
I love my new office, my location in the office, the new walk I take both at lunch and after work, the huge windows which allow me to see thunderstorms arriving from the West, the double monitors, and the smoking hot printer which can print, copy, & fax so fast my head spins.
I've lost my bus pass once. (A 30-day pass, used only 8 days) But it miraculously came back the next day.
So I've been all surprised/happy for 2 weeks now and here's the irony. On the day my Nampa office closed, I came home to a phone message from a nurse friend. She works at Midland Care & Rehab where their head medical biller had just walked off the job. #2 biller was promoted, leaving a vacancy. Was I interested? (Let's see--Midland Care is about 2 miles from home. Yes, I am interested.) Then the administrator called me. We set up an interview, but in the meantime I started work in Boise and found I liked it. I tell you, there is nothing so sweet as a fact finding interview when you're not desperate. Bottom line: We are not exactly perfect for each other, but if they want to make an offer, I'm willing to compare apples to apples (salary/paid time off) and make a decision. Another week has passed. They haven't called back I am happy with that too. I mentioned I could give them a list of a dozen other women more suited to the job. Whatever happens, everybody wins. Then I dropped my bus pass in the administrator's office, though I didn't know it until the next day.
Anyway, the past year and half of job fretting and stewing is gone and good riddance to it. Actually I feel really blessed to be able to keep my job, my great boss, and the new corporation chose a building site 1/2 block from the bus stop on this side of Boise, which allows me to get to work by 7:30. If they had chosen anywhere else..........I guess I'd be begging for that care center job.
ha ha The care center had a black labrador lolling on the black leather couch in the admin's office. I was told "if the dog licks your hand, you get the job." He didn't.
------change of subject-----
Chanel treated Kevin & I to "Wicked." WOWOWOWOWOWO!!!!! I told her I have to go again watch it from backstage. The stagecraft was as fascinating as the story.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
The color of mud
So---I have never shopped for floor vinyl or carpet or formica or anything else in the home improvement world. Did you know it is possible to go to RC Willey and not find a single couch you like? This is because everything they sell is the color of mud, or was the last time I looked--years ago.
Therefore I should have not been surprised after 5 minutes of looking in Nampa's premier chi-chi floor covering store to find---kitchen vinyl is all the color of mud. ONly 5 minutes to flip through each and every sample (100's) and hate them all, though I wasn't shopping for myself. I was shopping on behalf of Grandma Ison and her buckled kitchen floor. Whatever happened to pretty vinyl, with little flowers and pastel coloring? That's what she has now and I was fairly certain she would want the same again. Why is the hip look all slabs of granite, muddy at that?
I seem to require hand-holding in these situations from someone who loves shopping--Kevin. Tonight we ventured into the world again, but at Lowe's instead and found fewer choices but several quite grandmotherish pieces. We "checked-out" 3. Did you know Lowe's rents out vinyl samples for $10? Now you do. With Kevin at my side, I felt sort of triumphant and we drove to Caldwell fairly betting grandma would favor the light beige with little pink flowers.
In the past, Grandma has been a very slow decider. Her fading memory is part of the problem. If she makes a decision it will be forgotten 5 minutes later, so decision-making can stretch on indefinitely. This is where Lora Dawn's primo facilitating skills save the day. My plan was to leave the vinyl samples with grandma overnight, have LD sweep in Sunday afternoon, apply some great facilitating pressure. I figured by Monday morning we could call Biff ( floor installer) and say, "Order the flowers." Ta DA!
Well, well, We found Grandma in her TV room, looking at treasures. Kevin said, "Mom, come on out into the dining room. We have a little job for you to do." I had spread the 3 samples on the dining room table. "What's this," she asked? "Oh! I like THAT one." and she pointed at the muddiest of the 3, not the flowerdy one. End of decision. I nearly fell off the chair. We slapped the favored vinyl down on the floor, where it looked perfect next to her carpet. She said, "My kitchen floor is too light. It shows dirt too easy. This one will help conceal it." My head was spinning. She chortled, "Oh, I have been so worried about this. You two are the best shoppers and now I don't have to think about this anymore."
You can bet we had Biff on the phone two minutes later, placing the order. He said, "I wish I had more customers like your mother." (Quick deciders)
Is this irony? To the 10th power
----------
Jocile & Richard, Biff will call us Monday to say when the vinyl will arrive. Then we can nail down a schedule.
Therefore I should have not been surprised after 5 minutes of looking in Nampa's premier chi-chi floor covering store to find---kitchen vinyl is all the color of mud. ONly 5 minutes to flip through each and every sample (100's) and hate them all, though I wasn't shopping for myself. I was shopping on behalf of Grandma Ison and her buckled kitchen floor. Whatever happened to pretty vinyl, with little flowers and pastel coloring? That's what she has now and I was fairly certain she would want the same again. Why is the hip look all slabs of granite, muddy at that?
I seem to require hand-holding in these situations from someone who loves shopping--Kevin. Tonight we ventured into the world again, but at Lowe's instead and found fewer choices but several quite grandmotherish pieces. We "checked-out" 3. Did you know Lowe's rents out vinyl samples for $10? Now you do. With Kevin at my side, I felt sort of triumphant and we drove to Caldwell fairly betting grandma would favor the light beige with little pink flowers.
In the past, Grandma has been a very slow decider. Her fading memory is part of the problem. If she makes a decision it will be forgotten 5 minutes later, so decision-making can stretch on indefinitely. This is where Lora Dawn's primo facilitating skills save the day. My plan was to leave the vinyl samples with grandma overnight, have LD sweep in Sunday afternoon, apply some great facilitating pressure. I figured by Monday morning we could call Biff ( floor installer) and say, "Order the flowers." Ta DA!
Well, well, We found Grandma in her TV room, looking at treasures. Kevin said, "Mom, come on out into the dining room. We have a little job for you to do." I had spread the 3 samples on the dining room table. "What's this," she asked? "Oh! I like THAT one." and she pointed at the muddiest of the 3, not the flowerdy one. End of decision. I nearly fell off the chair. We slapped the favored vinyl down on the floor, where it looked perfect next to her carpet. She said, "My kitchen floor is too light. It shows dirt too easy. This one will help conceal it." My head was spinning. She chortled, "Oh, I have been so worried about this. You two are the best shoppers and now I don't have to think about this anymore."
You can bet we had Biff on the phone two minutes later, placing the order. He said, "I wish I had more customers like your mother." (Quick deciders)
Is this irony? To the 10th power
----------
Jocile & Richard, Biff will call us Monday to say when the vinyl will arrive. Then we can nail down a schedule.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
I pull a "Morgan"
So I'm walking around the house in my sheepskin slippers, doing my ordinary business, and wondering why my feet hurt.
Lo and behold, when I sit in the Lazy-Boy and put my feet up, the shoes are on the wrong feet.
Now I'm paranoid. I have to check the slippers everytime I wear them. They just don't look that obviously R or L.
Morgan, your grandma takes after you. Who'd have thought? After all these years.......
.......what's going to regress next?
This is like great-grandma Louie Ison. She did her daily housework, went to RS meeting, came home, got ready for bed and realized she'd forgotten to put on her brassiere that morning. ha
My family ward wants me to speak about olden days women and RS. I think her story bears mentioning.
Lo and behold, when I sit in the Lazy-Boy and put my feet up, the shoes are on the wrong feet.
Now I'm paranoid. I have to check the slippers everytime I wear them. They just don't look that obviously R or L.
Morgan, your grandma takes after you. Who'd have thought? After all these years.......
.......what's going to regress next?
This is like great-grandma Louie Ison. She did her daily housework, went to RS meeting, came home, got ready for bed and realized she'd forgotten to put on her brassiere that morning. ha
My family ward wants me to speak about olden days women and RS. I think her story bears mentioning.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Freakazoidal commute from Hell
The corp called for a 2hr departmental meeting in Boise @ St. Alphonsus hospital. (My dept=8 people) 8AM yesterday. Did I drive? Not on your life. I rode with 2 co-workers and nearly freaked out. We left in 7AM fog. Why are people driving bumper to bumper at 55 mph IN THE FOG?????
Brrrrring. Wendee's speaker phone goes off. (She's the driver). It's her mom, who works in Boise, calling to warn of an auto accident on the connector, precisely where we need to go. Thanks for the bad omen. Traffic stacks up immediately and now we crawl bumper to bumper at 5MPH. Brrrring again. It's Lorna, co-worker, several cars back. She knows a variety of curse words for the situation. She's from Caldwell, thus having extra miles to work up a fine string. Brrrrring again. It's Robert, our boss, miles behind us. Also an excellent curser. The two cups of water I drank for breakfast hit my bladder. We crawl for 1hr 10 min, to the crash site which is now nothing but flickering flares. For crying out loud, a commuter bus passes us. And a commuter van. What I wouldn't give for a restroom.
I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. Wendee keeps up a line of patter. "Oh this is nothing. I used to live in Tacoma and do this everyday." Well, good. Keep your eyes on that bumper 2 inches in front of you. Lorna calls again and announces she's claustrophobic. She expects to get rear-ended any moment. Wendee and Nicole (in front seat) want to know if I'm OK? Frankly, FREAKING NOT!!!!
Yes, we finally get to the hospital at 8:10 and assault the restrooms. Facilitator Woman (from corporate Novi, Michigan) offers coffee and sympathy. I am so tense I could bite heads off. Boss Robert arrives 15 minutes later. We have our meeting. yada yada yada I ride with a different co-worker back to Nampa. The fog is twice as thick. We take a country road instead of freeway. Again, another car accident shuts down a 1-mile section of AMity.
Today I hear rumors that my boss's boss (Jill) will soon approach me for bus route info. Supposedly her commute yesterday, (though at a different time of day) put the fear in her too. I hear she wants an inservice on how to get from Nampa to Boise without death, fear, or tension.
Brrrrring. Wendee's speaker phone goes off. (She's the driver). It's her mom, who works in Boise, calling to warn of an auto accident on the connector, precisely where we need to go. Thanks for the bad omen. Traffic stacks up immediately and now we crawl bumper to bumper at 5MPH. Brrrring again. It's Lorna, co-worker, several cars back. She knows a variety of curse words for the situation. She's from Caldwell, thus having extra miles to work up a fine string. Brrrrring again. It's Robert, our boss, miles behind us. Also an excellent curser. The two cups of water I drank for breakfast hit my bladder. We crawl for 1hr 10 min, to the crash site which is now nothing but flickering flares. For crying out loud, a commuter bus passes us. And a commuter van. What I wouldn't give for a restroom.
I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. Wendee keeps up a line of patter. "Oh this is nothing. I used to live in Tacoma and do this everyday." Well, good. Keep your eyes on that bumper 2 inches in front of you. Lorna calls again and announces she's claustrophobic. She expects to get rear-ended any moment. Wendee and Nicole (in front seat) want to know if I'm OK? Frankly, FREAKING NOT!!!!
Yes, we finally get to the hospital at 8:10 and assault the restrooms. Facilitator Woman (from corporate Novi, Michigan) offers coffee and sympathy. I am so tense I could bite heads off. Boss Robert arrives 15 minutes later. We have our meeting. yada yada yada I ride with a different co-worker back to Nampa. The fog is twice as thick. We take a country road instead of freeway. Again, another car accident shuts down a 1-mile section of AMity.
Today I hear rumors that my boss's boss (Jill) will soon approach me for bus route info. Supposedly her commute yesterday, (though at a different time of day) put the fear in her too. I hear she wants an inservice on how to get from Nampa to Boise without death, fear, or tension.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Farewell to Cheetos, the gig is up.
So, so , so sad. New employer = new health insurance. New health insurance has new rules. i.e. all adults on the plan are required to get a general physical every year. (Skip it if you please, but your % of copay, coins and deduct go UP.) I'm all about saving $$, so I went to chubby Dr. Kunz after, I don't know, an 8 year absence. I had the blood tests, etc etc etc. (But NO pap smear) YAY for hysterectomies! Does any woman in the world love having a pelvic? NO
Results: High cholesterol, blood pressure, blood sugar. bad
So Dr Kunz looks me in the eye and says, "Here's what you're gonna do, Jana. "
1. Walk 30 minutes minimum/day forevermore.
2. Take the lowest dose blood pressure med (and don't be surprised if it takes a while to regulate and you end up taking 3 types a day like everybody else.
3. Have a little visit with the hospital nutritionist
4. Report in once a week for blood pressure check and weigh-in.
AND-----ABSOLUTELY WORST OF ALL-----
5. low salt diet
Sisters, do you remember back in the days when I used to suck on salt rocks? I believe one of you told me I would get "hardening of the arteries." I didn't care.
Well that dr's appt was 2 1/2 weeks ago and how have I done on each?
1. Yes, 6 days a week. During lunch, after work, in fog, wind, light rain, with a backache and without.
2. Yes, but not sure if I like the sensation it gives
3. Coming up next weekend
4. 8 lbs down the hatch
5. I'm aiming for 2300mg sodium, the recommended for ordinary mortals. I think Dr. meant I should go lower but I can't do it yet. Just giving up Cheetos and the usual lovely fried salty things is challenge enough.
Good things:
1. I'm not so bitter, really
2. Food journaling is educational
3. Mrs Dash is not too objectionable
4. Stir frys are easy to cook
5. I'm not feeling hungry, which totally surprises me.
6. I've got a good mental game going. "Jana, don't give a rip about the total weight loss needed. Just stick to today. You can be good today and sin tomorrow." Thusfar, have not sinned tomorrow. Wait, that's a lie. I sinned @ the Ison chick yakfest.
7 . chicken breast and George Foreman grill--my 2 new best friends
8. My other best friend--IPOD Mozart, Billy Joel, etc keep me moving.
9. Kevin wanted to take me out to dinner and I turned him down. In 34 years, that's NEVER HAPPENED!
Well, that's the deal and I'm not going to write anymore about it.
Results: High cholesterol, blood pressure, blood sugar. bad
So Dr Kunz looks me in the eye and says, "Here's what you're gonna do, Jana. "
1. Walk 30 minutes minimum/day forevermore.
2. Take the lowest dose blood pressure med (and don't be surprised if it takes a while to regulate and you end up taking 3 types a day like everybody else.
3. Have a little visit with the hospital nutritionist
4. Report in once a week for blood pressure check and weigh-in.
AND-----ABSOLUTELY WORST OF ALL-----
5. low salt diet
Sisters, do you remember back in the days when I used to suck on salt rocks? I believe one of you told me I would get "hardening of the arteries." I didn't care.
Well that dr's appt was 2 1/2 weeks ago and how have I done on each?
1. Yes, 6 days a week. During lunch, after work, in fog, wind, light rain, with a backache and without.
2. Yes, but not sure if I like the sensation it gives
3. Coming up next weekend
4. 8 lbs down the hatch
5. I'm aiming for 2300mg sodium, the recommended for ordinary mortals. I think Dr. meant I should go lower but I can't do it yet. Just giving up Cheetos and the usual lovely fried salty things is challenge enough.
Good things:
1. I'm not so bitter, really
2. Food journaling is educational
3. Mrs Dash is not too objectionable
4. Stir frys are easy to cook
5. I'm not feeling hungry, which totally surprises me.
6. I've got a good mental game going. "Jana, don't give a rip about the total weight loss needed. Just stick to today. You can be good today and sin tomorrow." Thusfar, have not sinned tomorrow. Wait, that's a lie. I sinned @ the Ison chick yakfest.
7 . chicken breast and George Foreman grill--my 2 new best friends
8. My other best friend--IPOD Mozart, Billy Joel, etc keep me moving.
9. Kevin wanted to take me out to dinner and I turned him down. In 34 years, that's NEVER HAPPENED!
Well, that's the deal and I'm not going to write anymore about it.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Resurrection
So--I have decided to kick the old blog back to life.
As my daughter-in-law mentioned on her blog, 2010 was the pits and consequently for me, the writing well was dry. But I will do a little catch-up now.
My work: I now do my same job for Trinity Health instead or Catholic Health. Over the course of 2010 sixty people dwindled down to 45 as my co-workers saw the handwriting on the wall. At that point, Trinity announced it would re-hire 25 of us to help staff a new billing office in Boise. I pro and conned myself for several weeks. Should I take the severance package and unemployment and do some goofing off before job-hunting in Nampa? Or should I go for security and commuting to Boise? In the end, I chickened out for security and commuting. The transition to new employer was formal on Jan1, but here's the good news. The new building isn't ready and won't be for several more months. YAHOO. (Corner of Emerald and Steelhead
Way for any of you Boise-ites interested) So I'm still here in Nampa, a .07 mile drive from home.
When the time comes, I still won't drive. Snow, ice, darkness, rain, traffic, old car, gas expense, freeway driving in general--none of this works for me. I'm taking the bus. Get this: only $36.00 a month, a bonafide steal if a person can tolerate the 1 hr commute from Karcher Mall to office. With the help of Ipod, scriptures, books, and journal, I plan to tolerate it for one year and then evaluate.
The rest of my life: It feels like an ongoing fog. Years ago we had a neighbor lady come over and describe how she spent the year after her son's fatal car wreck with her head stuck in a gin bottle. At the time she said it (years after the accident), she looked none too recovered still. I totally get what she was saying now. When you grieve you look for comfort and hunker down. Enough said.
Kevin: still a Bishop and I still love having him be one.
Arielle: happily back at BYUI, starting her Sophmore year.
Chanel: a walking party, the best person to hang with overnight or anytime, for that matter
The cat: 16 years old, arthritic, takes a daily dozen naps and I am so jealous
Grandma Ison: thankful to be living in her home and so gracious about any help given her. Her kitchen floor is ruined and buckled from recent water problems. I never know how to deal with house repairs. Dean---help!?!?!
Morgan & Lydia: I never get enough of seeing and enjoying them. Having them closer is the silver lining of 2010's black cloud.
As my daughter-in-law mentioned on her blog, 2010 was the pits and consequently for me, the writing well was dry. But I will do a little catch-up now.
My work: I now do my same job for Trinity Health instead or Catholic Health. Over the course of 2010 sixty people dwindled down to 45 as my co-workers saw the handwriting on the wall. At that point, Trinity announced it would re-hire 25 of us to help staff a new billing office in Boise. I pro and conned myself for several weeks. Should I take the severance package and unemployment and do some goofing off before job-hunting in Nampa? Or should I go for security and commuting to Boise? In the end, I chickened out for security and commuting. The transition to new employer was formal on Jan1, but here's the good news. The new building isn't ready and won't be for several more months. YAHOO. (Corner of Emerald and Steelhead
Way for any of you Boise-ites interested) So I'm still here in Nampa, a .07 mile drive from home.
When the time comes, I still won't drive. Snow, ice, darkness, rain, traffic, old car, gas expense, freeway driving in general--none of this works for me. I'm taking the bus. Get this: only $36.00 a month, a bonafide steal if a person can tolerate the 1 hr commute from Karcher Mall to office. With the help of Ipod, scriptures, books, and journal, I plan to tolerate it for one year and then evaluate.
The rest of my life: It feels like an ongoing fog. Years ago we had a neighbor lady come over and describe how she spent the year after her son's fatal car wreck with her head stuck in a gin bottle. At the time she said it (years after the accident), she looked none too recovered still. I totally get what she was saying now. When you grieve you look for comfort and hunker down. Enough said.
Kevin: still a Bishop and I still love having him be one.
Arielle: happily back at BYUI, starting her Sophmore year.
Chanel: a walking party, the best person to hang with overnight or anytime, for that matter
The cat: 16 years old, arthritic, takes a daily dozen naps and I am so jealous
Grandma Ison: thankful to be living in her home and so gracious about any help given her. Her kitchen floor is ruined and buckled from recent water problems. I never know how to deal with house repairs. Dean---help!?!?!
Morgan & Lydia: I never get enough of seeing and enjoying them. Having them closer is the silver lining of 2010's black cloud.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Improvement
So--I returned to daily walking at the Rec Center track 3 weeks ago. Today I passed a lady on crutches, a man with a cane, and a mom carrying a toddler on her shoulders. I believe this puts me up in the rankings, right?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Kevin earns a point!
I woke him up at 5:30 this morning. "Kevin, do you want a point?" There's a honking huge spider in the shower." Yes he did--YAHOO!!! I am categorically against spiders in the shower. He sent it for a swim down the toilet.
Hey--I can be generous with points. I bestowed 4 more at breakfast when he fixed my four favorite "flavors" together.
Fried egg, 2 slices of toast, crispy bacon, and orange juice. Yum
Hey--I can be generous with points. I bestowed 4 more at breakfast when he fixed my four favorite "flavors" together.
Fried egg, 2 slices of toast, crispy bacon, and orange juice. Yum
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Continuing story.....
Silly joke just passed to me from Kevin: How does a doctor know what to do for swine flu versus bird flu? If you have swine flu, he gives you an oinkment. If you have bird flu, he gives you tweetment. GRRRROAN!
Ok, back to the May family.
Both lost their spouses in the month of March 1964.
At the time, Paul was 31 and on the high council. After considering his options, he told his Stake Pres (on a Sunday)he would be moving back to Burley, where his mom was caring for the new baby. That same night friends called him to attend a "fireside" just to get out of the house. It turned out to not be a fireside at all, but a set-up to meet Sharon, who was similarly conned by the same friends. Though not a bit interested romantically, they did find their common grief as a talking point. On Monday evening they talked until 1:30AM. On Tuesday evening they talked until 5AM. In retrospect, both say it was a relief to find someone who understood so clearly their devastation. On Wednesday night they went to a movie and he kissed her. On Thursday night he proposed and she said yes. By the end of the week, they considered themselves engaged.
Family reactions were not positive. His mother (who had bonded with the newborn and did not want to give her up): "You two are too dumb to care for this baby, let alone 7 children." Her mother: "You are being impulsive and stupid." Her former father-in-law, who turned out to be the beneficiary on his son's $10000.00 life insurance policy and who had hoped to step in as a father figure to Sharon'children, refused to share even a dime of the insurance.
Paul and Sharon married anyway, mid-summer 1964 and proceeded to move their 7 children into his 2-bedroom home. She got pregnant immediately, had six more children plus numerous miscarriages up until age 48. She continued her nursing career. He was an engineer and all-around fix-it guy. Together they raised their kids + whoever else needed raising. They've been married 45 years now. Twelve years ago, as a retirement project, they bought the ranch, with it's old farmhouse and a collection of rickety log out-buildings. Slowly they have repaired, built, added on, and improvised until now they are booked solid from June 15-Aug 15 with massive reunion groups. Their own descendants can come home and all the g-kids have room to run and beds to sleep in.
One note of sadness. On the 14th anniversary of the earthquake, Sharon's oldest daugher was killed in a car wreck.
So I had to ask, "Weren't there any adjustments with a courtship so brief?" "Heck Yes!" Sharon replied. "I used to wake up in Paul's arms crying because I missed Richard. When that happened we would get out of bed, get out the movie projector, and watch the 2 reels of 8mm film I salvaged from my home." (which contained brief snippets showing Richard)
I could go on and on. These are people you have to meet. He reminds me of a white-haired apostle Holland.
Grandma Ison says we should have the next reunion in 2011. Whadya think? The May Family Ranch would bankrupt our reunion fund. On the other hand, we sisters could have an affordable writer's retreat and probably not write even a sentence. You come too, Melanie.
Stay tuned for Part C. I'm not done with anniversary stories.
Ok, back to the May family.
Both lost their spouses in the month of March 1964.
At the time, Paul was 31 and on the high council. After considering his options, he told his Stake Pres (on a Sunday)he would be moving back to Burley, where his mom was caring for the new baby. That same night friends called him to attend a "fireside" just to get out of the house. It turned out to not be a fireside at all, but a set-up to meet Sharon, who was similarly conned by the same friends. Though not a bit interested romantically, they did find their common grief as a talking point. On Monday evening they talked until 1:30AM. On Tuesday evening they talked until 5AM. In retrospect, both say it was a relief to find someone who understood so clearly their devastation. On Wednesday night they went to a movie and he kissed her. On Thursday night he proposed and she said yes. By the end of the week, they considered themselves engaged.
Family reactions were not positive. His mother (who had bonded with the newborn and did not want to give her up): "You two are too dumb to care for this baby, let alone 7 children." Her mother: "You are being impulsive and stupid." Her former father-in-law, who turned out to be the beneficiary on his son's $10000.00 life insurance policy and who had hoped to step in as a father figure to Sharon'children, refused to share even a dime of the insurance.
Paul and Sharon married anyway, mid-summer 1964 and proceeded to move their 7 children into his 2-bedroom home. She got pregnant immediately, had six more children plus numerous miscarriages up until age 48. She continued her nursing career. He was an engineer and all-around fix-it guy. Together they raised their kids + whoever else needed raising. They've been married 45 years now. Twelve years ago, as a retirement project, they bought the ranch, with it's old farmhouse and a collection of rickety log out-buildings. Slowly they have repaired, built, added on, and improvised until now they are booked solid from June 15-Aug 15 with massive reunion groups. Their own descendants can come home and all the g-kids have room to run and beds to sleep in.
One note of sadness. On the 14th anniversary of the earthquake, Sharon's oldest daugher was killed in a car wreck.
So I had to ask, "Weren't there any adjustments with a courtship so brief?" "Heck Yes!" Sharon replied. "I used to wake up in Paul's arms crying because I missed Richard. When that happened we would get out of bed, get out the movie projector, and watch the 2 reels of 8mm film I salvaged from my home." (which contained brief snippets showing Richard)
I could go on and on. These are people you have to meet. He reminds me of a white-haired apostle Holland.
Grandma Ison says we should have the next reunion in 2011. Whadya think? The May Family Ranch would bankrupt our reunion fund. On the other hand, we sisters could have an affordable writer's retreat and probably not write even a sentence. You come too, Melanie.
Stay tuned for Part C. I'm not done with anniversary stories.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Lightning, earthquake, true love & a chef!
Congrats to Angela on your new blog. New to me anyway.
I have skipped FHE on the lofty pretense of not spreading my cold about--a cold which I didn't have yesterday. Grrr. Anyway I took down the Halloween decorations and am supposed to be in bed, but Angela's blog distracted me.
How much anniversary can I write about in less than 30 minutes? Hang on......
Look up the May Family Ranch (Clayton, ID) on the net. Read every page and then save your dollars. What a grand Ison reunion we could have there! They can sleep 85 people and handle 200 (with tents or trailers). That's where we went.
We stayed in the big house/B&B, guests of Paul & Sharon May and "their" chef. Get this--Robert, the chef, was a nonpaying friend of the family, just moved down from Alaska. Robert is Japanese and has cooked under or with every big name chef you can think of. He's been on Iron Chef teams, taken classes from Julia Child, competed all over the world. Normally Sharon May does the cooking for her guests, but he was there and itching to be in the kitchen. The only restriction she put on him was "don't buy more food. Just use what's in the pantry." He cooked not only breakfast for us, but dinners too. What the man could do with a can of green beans and the spices in her cupboard!! HE said the seasonings must never overwhelm or disguise the flavor. "How do you know which and what and how much to use?" He couldn't explain. He just knew.
On the night he cooked trout, I begged to watch since I love fish and always ruin it. All four burners were occupied. Three vegetable dishes going, plus a pan to carmelize onions, truckloads of butter, great splashes of extra virgin olive oil. Do you dip fish in a pan of mere milk and dredge in mere flour? NO. There must be curry, oregano, garlic, parmesan, a variety of pepper powders and green bits of this and that--each step in the process narrated with, "Is this not nice? This is lovely. This is beautiful. This will be perfect." He literally worshipped the food with his hands and words and eyes. He had no sense of humor whatsoever. I don't mean he was mean. I mean he was reverent and this was no place to crack jokes about too many zucchinis in the world. He regretted he was serving family style as opposed to plating the food. And you felt as you ate (with him eating right next to you) a lack of adequate adjectives to describe the pleasure. shoot me, but it was impressive.
Now, back to the Mays, Paul & Sharon. Between them, they had 13 children, 3 Indian Placement students, exchange students every year, plus a 6-member Vietnamese family for several weeks. They've never let the beds get cold, so they don't treat you as a paying guest. You're family. Thus we learned their unbelievable life stories.
At age 15, Sharon May was at a girls camp outside of Driggs when a thunder storm came up. Lightning struck the tree under which she and several girls were eating lunch. Four girls and one adult woman leader died. She herself suffered burns on the bottom of her feet, at every rivet point on her jeans, and on her right hip where a flashlight was stuffed in her pocket. The two girls on sitting on either side of her were some of those who died. What she remembers is waking on her stomach, with face in the dirt, feeling overwhelmingly sleepy. The lone Priesthood leader, who was knocked unconscious himself for a time, had to virtually perform triage on the mountain--sending some girls down for help, building a fire to keep the living/injured (8 or 9 girls) from further shock, and staying until men rode horses up to carry out the dead. Boy scouts climbed the mountain and improvised stretchers from logs and blankets. Sharon remembers being carried down and feeling scared because the climb up was so rocky steep, she wondered how they would get her safely down in the mud and rain.
At age 27, she was living in Valdez Alaska with her first husband and 3 little children. He made a living operating a tourist fishing boat, but supplemented with occasional longshoreman duties when cargo ships docked. On Good Friday, March 1964 he was on the dock unloading when the 9.0 earthquake hit. The dock, everyone on it, and a fish cannery disappeared into the bay forever. She was at work--a nurse--when the hospital walls split open and black sludge sewage spilled through. Her children, in the care of a babysitter, survived being thrown across a developing fissure when escaping their home, but the babysitter broke ribs and a leg attempting to jump it.
The quake lasted 5 minutes and the contents of her home were destroyed in the 4 ensuing tsunami waves that hit over the next 24 hours. Four days post-quake, as a shell-shocked new widow, still wearing the same clothes, the church flew she & her children home to her mother in SLC. Thirty three people died in Valdez, only 2 bodies recovered. That was the end of Alaska for her.
But the story gets better.
In the same month, Paul May, living in Granger, UT lost his wife to heart problems one month after she gave birth to their 4th child, a premature 2lb baby. The baby went to live with his mother while he regrouped with his children.
Whoa.....I've got to go to bed. Stay tuned for Part B.
I have skipped FHE on the lofty pretense of not spreading my cold about--a cold which I didn't have yesterday. Grrr. Anyway I took down the Halloween decorations and am supposed to be in bed, but Angela's blog distracted me.
How much anniversary can I write about in less than 30 minutes? Hang on......
Look up the May Family Ranch (Clayton, ID) on the net. Read every page and then save your dollars. What a grand Ison reunion we could have there! They can sleep 85 people and handle 200 (with tents or trailers). That's where we went.
We stayed in the big house/B&B, guests of Paul & Sharon May and "their" chef. Get this--Robert, the chef, was a nonpaying friend of the family, just moved down from Alaska. Robert is Japanese and has cooked under or with every big name chef you can think of. He's been on Iron Chef teams, taken classes from Julia Child, competed all over the world. Normally Sharon May does the cooking for her guests, but he was there and itching to be in the kitchen. The only restriction she put on him was "don't buy more food. Just use what's in the pantry." He cooked not only breakfast for us, but dinners too. What the man could do with a can of green beans and the spices in her cupboard!! HE said the seasonings must never overwhelm or disguise the flavor. "How do you know which and what and how much to use?" He couldn't explain. He just knew.
On the night he cooked trout, I begged to watch since I love fish and always ruin it. All four burners were occupied. Three vegetable dishes going, plus a pan to carmelize onions, truckloads of butter, great splashes of extra virgin olive oil. Do you dip fish in a pan of mere milk and dredge in mere flour? NO. There must be curry, oregano, garlic, parmesan, a variety of pepper powders and green bits of this and that--each step in the process narrated with, "Is this not nice? This is lovely. This is beautiful. This will be perfect." He literally worshipped the food with his hands and words and eyes. He had no sense of humor whatsoever. I don't mean he was mean. I mean he was reverent and this was no place to crack jokes about too many zucchinis in the world. He regretted he was serving family style as opposed to plating the food. And you felt as you ate (with him eating right next to you) a lack of adequate adjectives to describe the pleasure. shoot me, but it was impressive.
Now, back to the Mays, Paul & Sharon. Between them, they had 13 children, 3 Indian Placement students, exchange students every year, plus a 6-member Vietnamese family for several weeks. They've never let the beds get cold, so they don't treat you as a paying guest. You're family. Thus we learned their unbelievable life stories.
At age 15, Sharon May was at a girls camp outside of Driggs when a thunder storm came up. Lightning struck the tree under which she and several girls were eating lunch. Four girls and one adult woman leader died. She herself suffered burns on the bottom of her feet, at every rivet point on her jeans, and on her right hip where a flashlight was stuffed in her pocket. The two girls on sitting on either side of her were some of those who died. What she remembers is waking on her stomach, with face in the dirt, feeling overwhelmingly sleepy. The lone Priesthood leader, who was knocked unconscious himself for a time, had to virtually perform triage on the mountain--sending some girls down for help, building a fire to keep the living/injured (8 or 9 girls) from further shock, and staying until men rode horses up to carry out the dead. Boy scouts climbed the mountain and improvised stretchers from logs and blankets. Sharon remembers being carried down and feeling scared because the climb up was so rocky steep, she wondered how they would get her safely down in the mud and rain.
At age 27, she was living in Valdez Alaska with her first husband and 3 little children. He made a living operating a tourist fishing boat, but supplemented with occasional longshoreman duties when cargo ships docked. On Good Friday, March 1964 he was on the dock unloading when the 9.0 earthquake hit. The dock, everyone on it, and a fish cannery disappeared into the bay forever. She was at work--a nurse--when the hospital walls split open and black sludge sewage spilled through. Her children, in the care of a babysitter, survived being thrown across a developing fissure when escaping their home, but the babysitter broke ribs and a leg attempting to jump it.
The quake lasted 5 minutes and the contents of her home were destroyed in the 4 ensuing tsunami waves that hit over the next 24 hours. Four days post-quake, as a shell-shocked new widow, still wearing the same clothes, the church flew she & her children home to her mother in SLC. Thirty three people died in Valdez, only 2 bodies recovered. That was the end of Alaska for her.
But the story gets better.
In the same month, Paul May, living in Granger, UT lost his wife to heart problems one month after she gave birth to their 4th child, a premature 2lb baby. The baby went to live with his mother while he regrouped with his children.
Whoa.....I've got to go to bed. Stay tuned for Part B.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Bang! Bang!
I've never seen a gun in real life, never touched a gun, never shot one. When the guys in our singles ward heard this, they determined to "give Sister Nelson a proper education" in the sport of target shooting.
Thus Kevin and I joined 4 young adult gun lovers + our 77-yr-old ward clerk at the George Nourse outdoor gun range on Labor Day for a morning of bang-banging.
I was shocked. How many guns does a person need to have? How about 6 or 7 each, some inherited from their fathers, but most purchased at $450.00 each, at least. Then there's the bullets, ranging from $1.00 each to a box of 50 for $20.
So anyway, they set up targets by taping paper bull-eyes to cardboard boxes, weighted the boxes with rocks and we were in business for the next two hours.
Clip-loading: Hurts,pinches, requires some finger & hand strength.
Aiming: Right eye is useless, so that means shooting left-handed. Left hand has had a
tremor for several years.
Pulling triggers: No apparent strength in my left hand. Pulling, pulling, pulling, cringing and eyes mostly closed. Hey, why isn't this thing working? Then BANG!
I have shot my first gun--a magnum something or other. Frankly it looked like a toy, but the noise--OUCH! Yes I was wearing earplugs, but still it reminded me of a crack of thunder directly overhead. Physically painful in the ear.
So I shot half a dozen type of guns, ranging from a stubby handgun to magnums, glocks,
military rifles. Rifles are heavy, especially since I was using my weaker left side. I couldn't get through a 15-bullet clip without resting.
What did I hit? Hard to know. The bullets ripped through the boxes and raised alot of dust in the distant dirt.
Did you know the average handgun requires 6 lbs of finger pressure on the trigger, but a hair-trigger guns requires only 2lbs pressure? These are supposed to be strictly police-issue guns, though Bro. Barton managed to snag one years ago and was happily ping-pinging away.
Did you know the difference between regular and hollow-point bullets? Regular bullets leave the same size hole both entering and exiting the target. Hollow-points spread on impact and tear a much larger exit hole.
Did you know guns spit out shells as you shoot and they are HHHHHOTTT! I didn't know that until one landed on my neck and hung up on my shirt. I did a little dance of surprise with loaded gun in left hand. ouch, ouch and brushed it off with right hand. It raised a microscopic blister which I was proud to show off at work the next day. "Look at my wound from target shooting. Cool, huh?" By the way, as I am doing this dance, B.A. tells me, "Sis Nelson, When not actually shooting, keep your gun pointed at the ground instead of waving about towards whoever you're talking to."
The blister was not my only wound. I kept removing my earplugs to hear instructions. Bad idea. Now my right ear "hears" with the effect of being underwater. After one week, still no improvement.
Now that I have shooted, I can't see the attraction of going again. The boys love the sport enough to buy numerous guns, truckloads of ammo, concealed weapon permits, and they carry loaded guns everywhere, except church. They also love to watch violent movies and TV shows which, in my opinion, creates a mental paranoia of trouble lurking at every corner. Not ironically, each of these kids are stunted in post-mission life, doing nothing to further their education or marital prospects.
Today at church, B.A. approached me with great enthusiasm. "Sis Nelson, you've got to come with us again. This time we'll teach you how to shoot western rifles." (Think Matt Dillon and Gunsmoke.)
There you have it. I have lost my innocence. By the way, I also shot gangster style.
Thus Kevin and I joined 4 young adult gun lovers + our 77-yr-old ward clerk at the George Nourse outdoor gun range on Labor Day for a morning of bang-banging.
I was shocked. How many guns does a person need to have? How about 6 or 7 each, some inherited from their fathers, but most purchased at $450.00 each, at least. Then there's the bullets, ranging from $1.00 each to a box of 50 for $20.
So anyway, they set up targets by taping paper bull-eyes to cardboard boxes, weighted the boxes with rocks and we were in business for the next two hours.
Clip-loading: Hurts,pinches, requires some finger & hand strength.
Aiming: Right eye is useless, so that means shooting left-handed. Left hand has had a
tremor for several years.
Pulling triggers: No apparent strength in my left hand. Pulling, pulling, pulling, cringing and eyes mostly closed. Hey, why isn't this thing working? Then BANG!
I have shot my first gun--a magnum something or other. Frankly it looked like a toy, but the noise--OUCH! Yes I was wearing earplugs, but still it reminded me of a crack of thunder directly overhead. Physically painful in the ear.
So I shot half a dozen type of guns, ranging from a stubby handgun to magnums, glocks,
military rifles. Rifles are heavy, especially since I was using my weaker left side. I couldn't get through a 15-bullet clip without resting.
What did I hit? Hard to know. The bullets ripped through the boxes and raised alot of dust in the distant dirt.
Did you know the average handgun requires 6 lbs of finger pressure on the trigger, but a hair-trigger guns requires only 2lbs pressure? These are supposed to be strictly police-issue guns, though Bro. Barton managed to snag one years ago and was happily ping-pinging away.
Did you know the difference between regular and hollow-point bullets? Regular bullets leave the same size hole both entering and exiting the target. Hollow-points spread on impact and tear a much larger exit hole.
Did you know guns spit out shells as you shoot and they are HHHHHOTTT! I didn't know that until one landed on my neck and hung up on my shirt. I did a little dance of surprise with loaded gun in left hand. ouch, ouch and brushed it off with right hand. It raised a microscopic blister which I was proud to show off at work the next day. "Look at my wound from target shooting. Cool, huh?" By the way, as I am doing this dance, B.A. tells me, "Sis Nelson, When not actually shooting, keep your gun pointed at the ground instead of waving about towards whoever you're talking to."
The blister was not my only wound. I kept removing my earplugs to hear instructions. Bad idea. Now my right ear "hears" with the effect of being underwater. After one week, still no improvement.
Now that I have shooted, I can't see the attraction of going again. The boys love the sport enough to buy numerous guns, truckloads of ammo, concealed weapon permits, and they carry loaded guns everywhere, except church. They also love to watch violent movies and TV shows which, in my opinion, creates a mental paranoia of trouble lurking at every corner. Not ironically, each of these kids are stunted in post-mission life, doing nothing to further their education or marital prospects.
Today at church, B.A. approached me with great enthusiasm. "Sis Nelson, you've got to come with us again. This time we'll teach you how to shoot western rifles." (Think Matt Dillon and Gunsmoke.)
There you have it. I have lost my innocence. By the way, I also shot gangster style.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Holy haircut!
I suffered a new haircutter person this week. My former cutter of many years retired due to cancer. I decided to take a risk, spend more money than the usual $15 and try out the place getting all the publicity nowdays. Studio D, situated halfway between home and work. I made an appointment with Sarah somebody, the telephone Enthusiasm Queen. YES, she would love to touch my thin, fine, gray hair. OUCH!!! $35.00 minus $10.00 for being a new client. OK so---I walk in and right away notice:
1. My $35 will be paying for the gorgeous layout, decor, and streamside setting
2. My $35 will be paying for the drinks they keep plying while I wait for Sarah
3. My $35 is paying for a shampoo/conditioning/head massage that takes twice as long as I spend in the shower daily. But I concede the massage just might be worth it.
4. I am decades older than anyone (client or stylist) in the building.
5. The woman Sarah has just styled looks like a skunk. As in bright, bright blonde hair on top. Black, black roots & underneath hair. Sarah has evidently also fried the blonde parts with a straightener giving the top tuft a straw-like appearance. But the customer is happy and still preening before the mirror as she pins her hair into a perfect bump-top ponytail.
"What-the-heck" I think as I unfold the 2 photographs I pulled off the internet the night before. Go ahead, Sarah. Try and make my hair look like an approximation of these pictures. Sarah studies the pictures and says "mullet" under her breath. She questions me carefully about length of hair on my neck and here's where I make my fatal mistake. I tell her the length I want, but forget to mention how much my hair shrinks from wet to dry. WHACK go her scissors and there will never be a mullet again. Me and my naked neck are still in shock. However I do like the rest of the style and other people seem to be complimentary. Sarah used the straightener appliance on me too, so I have been using Arielle's here at home. I'm able to do a decent job of looking more contemporary, spikey, strawish or whatever.
Will I go back? I'm on the fence, mainly because of the price. By the way, this is such a fancy schmancy salon, they even scanned my internet photos into their computer, expecting they have snagged a lifetime customer.
Wouldn't it be great if we had a functional camera right now?
----------
Have I explained the latest about my work, the economy, and how CHI plans to handle things? Here goes.
After months and months of emails from CHI headquarters bemoaning their sorry state and how employment freezes, retirements, and possible layoffs are the order of the day, we are notified of a special meeting on May 1. On May 1, we meet for a power point presentation where we learn:
1. One year earlier, before the economy tanked, CHI paid $6 million for a consultant group to study the revenue-generating process in CHI's 81 hospitals.
2. The consultancy says CHI is missing out on a considerable chunk of cash because of poor registration procedures when a patient checks in.
(I won't explain that, but it is a legitimate problem area.)
3. Registration departments need to be trained and trained and trained. (Never mind that this is an area of high turnover because of the in-your-face-stress of handling emergency situations. You can train and train all you want and the next day, you might have all new employees because this month's hires gave up.)
4. In order to accomplish all this needed training, CHI will divide their 81 hospitals into 7 geographic area and HIRE 26 NEW EXECUTIVES to
administer the training.
5. How will the new exec's be paid? Why of course--with all the additional money generated by improved registration procedures.
6. There will be no layoffs for us.
Listening to this, I'm running a simple math equation in my head. X (new money generated) - Z (salaries of new execs) = $0 Why not just improve registration processes and make more money? You gotta love consultants. If they don't stir the pot, they're not doing their job. But at least I'm not losing my job. I just have to work harder to pay for more middlemen.
1. My $35 will be paying for the gorgeous layout, decor, and streamside setting
2. My $35 will be paying for the drinks they keep plying while I wait for Sarah
3. My $35 is paying for a shampoo/conditioning/head massage that takes twice as long as I spend in the shower daily. But I concede the massage just might be worth it.
4. I am decades older than anyone (client or stylist) in the building.
5. The woman Sarah has just styled looks like a skunk. As in bright, bright blonde hair on top. Black, black roots & underneath hair. Sarah has evidently also fried the blonde parts with a straightener giving the top tuft a straw-like appearance. But the customer is happy and still preening before the mirror as she pins her hair into a perfect bump-top ponytail.
"What-the-heck" I think as I unfold the 2 photographs I pulled off the internet the night before. Go ahead, Sarah. Try and make my hair look like an approximation of these pictures. Sarah studies the pictures and says "mullet" under her breath. She questions me carefully about length of hair on my neck and here's where I make my fatal mistake. I tell her the length I want, but forget to mention how much my hair shrinks from wet to dry. WHACK go her scissors and there will never be a mullet again. Me and my naked neck are still in shock. However I do like the rest of the style and other people seem to be complimentary. Sarah used the straightener appliance on me too, so I have been using Arielle's here at home. I'm able to do a decent job of looking more contemporary, spikey, strawish or whatever.
Will I go back? I'm on the fence, mainly because of the price. By the way, this is such a fancy schmancy salon, they even scanned my internet photos into their computer, expecting they have snagged a lifetime customer.
Wouldn't it be great if we had a functional camera right now?
----------
Have I explained the latest about my work, the economy, and how CHI plans to handle things? Here goes.
After months and months of emails from CHI headquarters bemoaning their sorry state and how employment freezes, retirements, and possible layoffs are the order of the day, we are notified of a special meeting on May 1. On May 1, we meet for a power point presentation where we learn:
1. One year earlier, before the economy tanked, CHI paid $6 million for a consultant group to study the revenue-generating process in CHI's 81 hospitals.
2. The consultancy says CHI is missing out on a considerable chunk of cash because of poor registration procedures when a patient checks in.
(I won't explain that, but it is a legitimate problem area.)
3. Registration departments need to be trained and trained and trained. (Never mind that this is an area of high turnover because of the in-your-face-stress of handling emergency situations. You can train and train all you want and the next day, you might have all new employees because this month's hires gave up.)
4. In order to accomplish all this needed training, CHI will divide their 81 hospitals into 7 geographic area and HIRE 26 NEW EXECUTIVES to
administer the training.
5. How will the new exec's be paid? Why of course--with all the additional money generated by improved registration procedures.
6. There will be no layoffs for us.
Listening to this, I'm running a simple math equation in my head. X (new money generated) - Z (salaries of new execs) = $0 Why not just improve registration processes and make more money? You gotta love consultants. If they don't stir the pot, they're not doing their job. But at least I'm not losing my job. I just have to work harder to pay for more middlemen.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Ode to the kitty
One of our cats was killed by a pitbull yesterday. She (the cat) was on the porch watching Kevin mow the lawn. Kevin saw the dog come from nowhere, running into our open garage to explore. The cat sort of stalked towards the garage to keep her eyes on the dog. The dog saw her and gave chase. She ran into the garage where he snapped her up, shook her, and came out with her still in his jaws. Kevin grabbed the garden hose and hosed him down. The dog dropped the cat and ran down the street.
She wasn't torn up, but she's an old frail cat and she was obviously dying. He called me out wondering what to do. She just laid on her side moaning. Within minutes she died. Kevin wrapped and put her in the garbage can.
Right then Chanel arrived from Boise for her family b-day party. This cat was her childhood pet, born in 1996.
We went in the house crying & Kevin continued mowing. About 10 minutes later a lady was walking her min-pin across the street from our house. The pitbull showed up again, spun the lady, grabbed her dog, shook it, and ran. Traffic stopped in both directions and Kevin called the police. Police & animal control officer arrived. The min pin lost a piece of one haunch and it's back skin was hanging. It wasn't dead but wouldn't let anyone touch it.
While the police took Kevin's & the lady's story, the pit bull owner showed up. He was a kid in his 20's who said the dog had escaped his yard through his open garage and had only been gone 10 minutes before coming home.
The owner was very upset to hear what the dog had done, but he signed papers to have it put down Monday morning and animal control hauled him off. Meanwhile the min-pin was rolled into a carrier box and taken to a vet.
That's the story. We're surprised by our grief for an animal and to have a member of the family gone so suddenly and so strangely. She was our bulemic cat whom I thought would die from old age or starvation eventually. Never occurred to me that sitting on the porch was dangerous. Our big cat, who is 2 years older and never cared for the other that much, has paced the floors tonight.
I will not miss Pooperki's carpet messes or her Siamese voice, but she was very affectionate and good to have on a lap when watching TV. She liked us. The big cat barely tolerates us.
She wasn't torn up, but she's an old frail cat and she was obviously dying. He called me out wondering what to do. She just laid on her side moaning. Within minutes she died. Kevin wrapped and put her in the garbage can.
Right then Chanel arrived from Boise for her family b-day party. This cat was her childhood pet, born in 1996.
We went in the house crying & Kevin continued mowing. About 10 minutes later a lady was walking her min-pin across the street from our house. The pitbull showed up again, spun the lady, grabbed her dog, shook it, and ran. Traffic stopped in both directions and Kevin called the police. Police & animal control officer arrived. The min pin lost a piece of one haunch and it's back skin was hanging. It wasn't dead but wouldn't let anyone touch it.
While the police took Kevin's & the lady's story, the pit bull owner showed up. He was a kid in his 20's who said the dog had escaped his yard through his open garage and had only been gone 10 minutes before coming home.
The owner was very upset to hear what the dog had done, but he signed papers to have it put down Monday morning and animal control hauled him off. Meanwhile the min-pin was rolled into a carrier box and taken to a vet.
That's the story. We're surprised by our grief for an animal and to have a member of the family gone so suddenly and so strangely. She was our bulemic cat whom I thought would die from old age or starvation eventually. Never occurred to me that sitting on the porch was dangerous. Our big cat, who is 2 years older and never cared for the other that much, has paced the floors tonight.
I will not miss Pooperki's carpet messes or her Siamese voice, but she was very affectionate and good to have on a lap when watching TV. She liked us. The big cat barely tolerates us.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Playing the odds
Prequel to the story: I work for Catholic Health Initiatives (CHI), a corporation which owns many,many hospitals all over the nation. My office is called a central billing office (CBO) because we bill for 8 hospitals. CHI has 3 CBOs in Nampa, Fargo, and Kentucky. My particular billing niche is commercial insurances such as all the Blue Cross plans + several dozen others insurances. Other coworkers bill the Medicare/Medicaid plans. And a third section of our office bills patients. All together we are expected to collect between $33-$36 million/monthly. The hospitals set the target--this is what it takes to keep their doors open, payrolls solvent, and capitol improvement projects funded. Generally we hit the goal, but there have been months (spread over the 8 years I've worked there) where we've missed by as much as
$4million in a month.
--------------
SO last week an email came from headquarters bemoaning the sorry state of the economy.
same old, same old. i.e. CHI's stock market investments are shriveling (just like everybody else's) so they can't use market profits to compensate for our collection shortfalls. With so many workers losing their jobs/insurances, patient censusses are down plus it's virtually impossible to get patients to pay big chunks of money such as an insurance company would.
Bottom line: There will be layoffs at the CBO. When or who? Nobody knows. There are 60 people in my office and management could spin the dice any which way. Going by seniority, I win. (Eight years is an eternity in my job.) Going by productivity level, I win again. Going by seniority in my particular dept, dicey. Going by steadfast personality (as opposed to drama, drama, drama) I really win. Going by cutest-grandchild-ever picture displays, I WIN BIG TIME!!!
Odds are I will stay employed. If not, I plan to turn alot of cartwheels to celebrate my freedom the first week. After that I guess I'll wake up & wonder why I didn't get
eyelids done and all those other surgeries that would have been free under my ins plan.
Stay tuned.............
$4million in a month.
--------------
SO last week an email came from headquarters bemoaning the sorry state of the economy.
same old, same old. i.e. CHI's stock market investments are shriveling (just like everybody else's) so they can't use market profits to compensate for our collection shortfalls. With so many workers losing their jobs/insurances, patient censusses are down plus it's virtually impossible to get patients to pay big chunks of money such as an insurance company would.
Bottom line: There will be layoffs at the CBO. When or who? Nobody knows. There are 60 people in my office and management could spin the dice any which way. Going by seniority, I win. (Eight years is an eternity in my job.) Going by productivity level, I win again. Going by seniority in my particular dept, dicey. Going by steadfast personality (as opposed to drama, drama, drama) I really win. Going by cutest-grandchild-ever picture displays, I WIN BIG TIME!!!
Odds are I will stay employed. If not, I plan to turn alot of cartwheels to celebrate my freedom the first week. After that I guess I'll wake up & wonder why I didn't get
eyelids done and all those other surgeries that would have been free under my ins plan.
Stay tuned.............
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