Monday, January 31, 2011
Wow!
This was 1994. The year my son was born. It is strange watching this. Email and the internet now such a part of our lives. Crap, here I am using it to write about my life! It is hard to remember that there was a time when we didn't know what the heck it was. So now I'm thinking back to what I have seen in my life time of 48 years:
Color TV
Camcorders
VCR
Microwave
Computers
Cell phones
Digital cameras
Smart phones
Seat belts in back seats of cars
Helmets, knee and elbow pads
Crazy glue
Glue guns
DVD
Netflix instant
PS3
Wii
Xbox
Atari
Hand dryers in public restrooms
Cordless phones
I could add I don't know how much more. Wonder what the future will hold.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Best Walmart Greeter...EVER.
I bought a pair of pants from Walmart the other day. And well, if you can take off a pair of pants without unbuttoning or unzipping them, they are too big. Don't hate me.
So, today I stopped off at Walmart on my way home from my morning walk to exchange the pants for the right size. Into the store I go and head on over to the return counter which is by the front entrance. I am then greeted by Richard. Who, yells at me but, in that hard of hearing way, not rude "Ma'am, Ma'am do you have a return?" "Yes, I do", I replied. "Well, you have to go back outside and come back in through these here ropes and line up." "Okay". So I go outside and come back in through the ropes to get in line. Only, there wasn't anyone in line. But, this is Walmart and you got to follow the rules. And Richard has to follow the rules. So I go through the rule process and go outside to come back in, to stand right where I was but, now I'm in between the ropes. Because that is what you have to do now if you want to return or exchange something at Walmart.
Now Richard comes over to me and says "This is new. This rope line thing. Stupidest damned thing ever. What the hell are we going to do when it's cold with this damned door open? We will have to get a heater so people don't freeze to death. Stupidest damned thing ever except for the floor. Used to be a rubber floor here and then they replaced it with this tile. Now when it rains we have to haul out rugs to put down so people don't fall on their ass when it's wet. Stupidest damned thing ever!"
Richard.
Best Walmart Greeter EVER!
So, today I stopped off at Walmart on my way home from my morning walk to exchange the pants for the right size. Into the store I go and head on over to the return counter which is by the front entrance. I am then greeted by Richard. Who, yells at me but, in that hard of hearing way, not rude "Ma'am, Ma'am do you have a return?" "Yes, I do", I replied. "Well, you have to go back outside and come back in through these here ropes and line up." "Okay". So I go outside and come back in through the ropes to get in line. Only, there wasn't anyone in line. But, this is Walmart and you got to follow the rules. And Richard has to follow the rules. So I go through the rule process and go outside to come back in, to stand right where I was but, now I'm in between the ropes. Because that is what you have to do now if you want to return or exchange something at Walmart.
Now Richard comes over to me and says "This is new. This rope line thing. Stupidest damned thing ever. What the hell are we going to do when it's cold with this damned door open? We will have to get a heater so people don't freeze to death. Stupidest damned thing ever except for the floor. Used to be a rubber floor here and then they replaced it with this tile. Now when it rains we have to haul out rugs to put down so people don't fall on their ass when it's wet. Stupidest damned thing ever!"
Richard.
Best Walmart Greeter EVER!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I want to be.....
I don't know what brought this memory to the forefront of my brain. But, I'm just going with it as I feel it needs to be shared. For whatever reasons. And I think it has value. AND it is painful so, that usually is a clue that it has value.
My family moved to Santa Monica when I was starting Jr. High. My mother had been raised there and was homesick. I attended John Adams Jr. High. Busing had started but, since the school was "naturally integrated" we didn't participate in busing.
My P.E. teach was Mr. Shockley. I remember very few of my teacher's names but, Mr. Shockley I will never forget. He was our neighbor as well. He and his wife with their two kids lived down the street. Mr. Shockley was black.
In my P.E. class was a girl. A very angry, out of control, black girl. And Mr. Shockley spent most of P.E. trying. Trying to work with this girl. Desperately trying to find a way to reach her. She was very disruptive so the rest of us would just sit and watch. They would go back a forth. With her just mouthing off and him trying to get her focused on something.
One day he says to her "what do you want to do with your life? Do you have any idea? Is there anything you are passionate about? Anything you are interested in?" And as a 14 year old I was thinking to myself "you have got to be kidding, we are like 14, we don't know what the hell we want to be when we grow up." And I'm internally rolling my eyes at this line of serious questioning.
And then the girl says "Yeah. Yeah I do know what I want to be." And Mr. Shockley says "WHAT!?"
And she says "I want to be white."
Whoa. And she is serious. And you could feel the pain. And Mr. Shockley looks shocked. You could have heard a pin drop in that gym.
To be something you don't want to be. To be something you can not change. To not want to be who you are because of society. Society made a 14 year old black girl want to be white. Well, what she wanted was to be accepted. And this was 1976.
Mr. Shockley gave up after that. And the girl well, she gave up in way too because she stopped being disruptive. She would just sit off to the side during P.E. and Mr. Shockley let her.
I guess there is a fine line between behavior and who you are. But, there is a difference too. I think that is what gets argued about in society. Somethings are pretty clear. If you are a murderer that maybe who you are but, the behavior is well, not going to be accepted by society for good reason.
But, there has always been and maybe always will be sadly, a whole lot not accepted for no good reason.
My family moved to Santa Monica when I was starting Jr. High. My mother had been raised there and was homesick. I attended John Adams Jr. High. Busing had started but, since the school was "naturally integrated" we didn't participate in busing.
My P.E. teach was Mr. Shockley. I remember very few of my teacher's names but, Mr. Shockley I will never forget. He was our neighbor as well. He and his wife with their two kids lived down the street. Mr. Shockley was black.
In my P.E. class was a girl. A very angry, out of control, black girl. And Mr. Shockley spent most of P.E. trying. Trying to work with this girl. Desperately trying to find a way to reach her. She was very disruptive so the rest of us would just sit and watch. They would go back a forth. With her just mouthing off and him trying to get her focused on something.
One day he says to her "what do you want to do with your life? Do you have any idea? Is there anything you are passionate about? Anything you are interested in?" And as a 14 year old I was thinking to myself "you have got to be kidding, we are like 14, we don't know what the hell we want to be when we grow up." And I'm internally rolling my eyes at this line of serious questioning.
And then the girl says "Yeah. Yeah I do know what I want to be." And Mr. Shockley says "WHAT!?"
And she says "I want to be white."
Whoa. And she is serious. And you could feel the pain. And Mr. Shockley looks shocked. You could have heard a pin drop in that gym.
To be something you don't want to be. To be something you can not change. To not want to be who you are because of society. Society made a 14 year old black girl want to be white. Well, what she wanted was to be accepted. And this was 1976.
Mr. Shockley gave up after that. And the girl well, she gave up in way too because she stopped being disruptive. She would just sit off to the side during P.E. and Mr. Shockley let her.
I guess there is a fine line between behavior and who you are. But, there is a difference too. I think that is what gets argued about in society. Somethings are pretty clear. If you are a murderer that maybe who you are but, the behavior is well, not going to be accepted by society for good reason.
But, there has always been and maybe always will be sadly, a whole lot not accepted for no good reason.
Blog update
See what happens when you don't have internet connection for a couple of days? You're blogging goes to hell.
Well let me get caught up.
Saw Dr. Barth on the 17th. He is very pleased with me. Has taken surgery off the table since I'm doing so well on the Lupron and says I can just stay on that until I go through menopause naturally. Which my ovaries will do. How will we know? Well, take me off the Lupron see what the estrogen does. Simple really. Much simpler than surgery. And since my estrogen was down to a whopping 13(normal ranges are 300 to 400) I was able to go on Femara. That little pill will keep my body from making any estrogen and will keep any possible escapee cancer's from making their own as well.
So far I seem to be tolerating the Femara well. Although the well meaning (not) nurse at the day hospital tried to throw a wrench into the works. I went to get my Lupron shot on the first day I started the Femara. The day nurse asked if I was on any new meds. Yes. She says "oh I had breast cancer and I was on Femara. THAT FEMARA!" and she makes a face. "Good luck with that. I went off after three months". Well, that's helpful. I looked at her and said NO. NO. I am going to be just fine. And she says well let me tell you. And I say oh really please don't because I really don't need any suggestions. Well, she says you need to know. And off to races she goes listing all the side effects. I was so close to sticking my fingers in my ears and going lalalala. I swear next time I am because as the forces that be would have it, I woke up the next morning with all the symptoms.
Son Of A BITCH.
By afternoon I was raving raging mad about it. And then. It stopped. Yep. Went away that night. I've been fine since. Sticking my tongue out and blowing a razzberry.
Had the Herceptin infusion yesterday. Two poker day. And it was the elbow that failed and the wrist gushed like a giser. Go figure. Nurse who did the failed poke said well, it's not working. I'm getting someone else. And then she just yells I need help! Okay. Interesting. So another nurse, who has cannulated me before comes running over. She takes and look and says okay and off she goes to get her stuff. So I look at the nurse who had the failed poke. I know her well. She has poked me more than anyone else. And I say what you are giving up after one poke? She says oh I can't, I can't do more than one poke. I said Rachel are you that shook up? She says no, no I'm not shook up I've always been this way. I just can't poke people more than once. Okay. Not shook up. Yeah. Let's not rock people's reality here she has to do this everyday. Second nurse comes and gets it in the wrist no problem. Chris announces she's in, man it's everywhere. Yeah it made a mess I guess. I don't look.
That was number 8 down and next month we will be half way through. Hard to believe.
I'm walking everyday Monday through Friday and have been able to keep that schedule up except for yesterday. I walk for an hour with my good friend and some days friends. Clock a good 3.25 miles.
Got my yard whipped into shape. Am most pleased. Planted a plum, avocado and asian pear. Semi dwarfs. Put out some hummingbird feeders today. Looks nice.
Still working on the computer room conversion. I think I'll try to tackle more of that tomorrow.
Yes. Things are well. And at times it feels like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop but, rather than go there, I'm just grateful.
It was a good day.
Well let me get caught up.
Saw Dr. Barth on the 17th. He is very pleased with me. Has taken surgery off the table since I'm doing so well on the Lupron and says I can just stay on that until I go through menopause naturally. Which my ovaries will do. How will we know? Well, take me off the Lupron see what the estrogen does. Simple really. Much simpler than surgery. And since my estrogen was down to a whopping 13(normal ranges are 300 to 400) I was able to go on Femara. That little pill will keep my body from making any estrogen and will keep any possible escapee cancer's from making their own as well.
So far I seem to be tolerating the Femara well. Although the well meaning (not) nurse at the day hospital tried to throw a wrench into the works. I went to get my Lupron shot on the first day I started the Femara. The day nurse asked if I was on any new meds. Yes. She says "oh I had breast cancer and I was on Femara. THAT FEMARA!" and she makes a face. "Good luck with that. I went off after three months". Well, that's helpful. I looked at her and said NO. NO. I am going to be just fine. And she says well let me tell you. And I say oh really please don't because I really don't need any suggestions. Well, she says you need to know. And off to races she goes listing all the side effects. I was so close to sticking my fingers in my ears and going lalalala. I swear next time I am because as the forces that be would have it, I woke up the next morning with all the symptoms.
Son Of A BITCH.
By afternoon I was raving raging mad about it. And then. It stopped. Yep. Went away that night. I've been fine since. Sticking my tongue out and blowing a razzberry.
Had the Herceptin infusion yesterday. Two poker day. And it was the elbow that failed and the wrist gushed like a giser. Go figure. Nurse who did the failed poke said well, it's not working. I'm getting someone else. And then she just yells I need help! Okay. Interesting. So another nurse, who has cannulated me before comes running over. She takes and look and says okay and off she goes to get her stuff. So I look at the nurse who had the failed poke. I know her well. She has poked me more than anyone else. And I say what you are giving up after one poke? She says oh I can't, I can't do more than one poke. I said Rachel are you that shook up? She says no, no I'm not shook up I've always been this way. I just can't poke people more than once. Okay. Not shook up. Yeah. Let's not rock people's reality here she has to do this everyday. Second nurse comes and gets it in the wrist no problem. Chris announces she's in, man it's everywhere. Yeah it made a mess I guess. I don't look.
That was number 8 down and next month we will be half way through. Hard to believe.
I'm walking everyday Monday through Friday and have been able to keep that schedule up except for yesterday. I walk for an hour with my good friend and some days friends. Clock a good 3.25 miles.
Got my yard whipped into shape. Am most pleased. Planted a plum, avocado and asian pear. Semi dwarfs. Put out some hummingbird feeders today. Looks nice.
Still working on the computer room conversion. I think I'll try to tackle more of that tomorrow.
Yes. Things are well. And at times it feels like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop but, rather than go there, I'm just grateful.
It was a good day.
Moon Jar!
The bottom is red/orange/yellow. Hard to see in the pic.
This is my moon jar. What is a moon jar? Well, it's a moon ritual where you place a jar/container outside on full moon. You leave the jar outside over night and then you drink from the container each day until the next full moon where you repeat the process.
Purpose? Well, people who part take do so for their own reasons. For me, it is replacing the cycle that my forced menopause has ended. Now let's not get carried away I'm in no means grieving for that lack of bodily function really but, my body was doing something on a cycle and since those of you who know me well, know I'm the queen of scheduling it was a regular cycle. So, I'm replacing that with this ritual.
It's nice.
And the jar rocks! Much pleased.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Thank You Face Book
I'm sandwiched between two generations. My son and my dad. Both are on Face Book. And what this has created is an interesting situation where I am now answering questions from two generations separate from my own.
Now being a parent you expect to have those uncomfortable questions asked. But, now that my dad is on Face Book I'm getting uncomfortable questions asked from him. And I find I'm just answering them the same way I do with my son. Straight up.
So I get an email from my dad
RE: what is?
What is a tranny?
My response:
That would be slang for transvestite or a transmission for a car. What are you looking at?
Dad's response:
It was on that news feed thing on Face Book. Some guy wrote it. He seemed to come out of no where.
Just like with my son, I'm glad my dad is coming to me with these questions rather than going to some unreliable source and getting some twisted answer. Glad we have the kind of relationship where he feels he can come to me with these questions.
Thank You Face Book.
Now being a parent you expect to have those uncomfortable questions asked. But, now that my dad is on Face Book I'm getting uncomfortable questions asked from him. And I find I'm just answering them the same way I do with my son. Straight up.
So I get an email from my dad
RE: what is?
What is a tranny?
My response:
That would be slang for transvestite or a transmission for a car. What are you looking at?
Dad's response:
It was on that news feed thing on Face Book. Some guy wrote it. He seemed to come out of no where.
Just like with my son, I'm glad my dad is coming to me with these questions rather than going to some unreliable source and getting some twisted answer. Glad we have the kind of relationship where he feels he can come to me with these questions.
Thank You Face Book.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Lovely Day
What creates a lovely day? A day that hold memories. Okay, nice memories. It doesn't have to be grand. It can be simple really.
I had one of those today. Spent with a friend. One of my 2am friends. A 2am friend is one you know you could call at 2am with an emergency or even without an emergency and they would rush over, no make up on, hair standing on end, in their pajamas to help or just be with you. Yes. I'm fortunate to have several of these.
We went to Color Me Mine. A place where you pick out a ceramic doo dad and paint it. Then they fire the thing for you and you pick it up later. That's the part that always feels weird to me. You go in. Spend some time debating on what item you want. Then deciding on what you want to paint. Deliberate on paint colors. Then spend some serious time painting the thing. Then you pay. And then you leave. With. Nothing. Always leaves me with a feeling of wait, what just happened? Then you go back to pick up your thing of beauty. Now that part is rather fun and will happen on Thursday. It is like a surprise. And really it is a surprise because glaze paints are flat and unexciting and not what they are going to look like when fired so, you never really know what the thing of beauty is going to look like until you pick it up.
It was lovely to spend the afternoon, painting, creating and chatting. I made a moon jar. A what? Well, I'll tell you when I get it, I'll take pictures and then explain what the heck that is so stay tuned.
In addition to the sharing and creating, apparently I spouted some words of wisdom or words to consider or I don't know but, my dear friend said I needed to blog it so here it is:
My dear friend made a comment about the imperfection of her thing of beauty to which I responded "if we wanted perfect we should have gone to Macy's and bought one".
We are so critical of our things of beauty that we create. Somehow it never measures up to something. We never feel it is good enough for something. But, those mass produced, inferior, over priced, piece of shit things? oh those are good because.....I don't know. Because everyone has one? Because anyone can get one? I'm not sure. It is socially acceptable to display and have those things, I suppose.
There was a young woman in the store who was painting on a mug and painted an amazing cat. Amazing life like cat. I said wow that's beautiful. My dear friend asked "are you an artist?" The woman answered "no, I just like to paint." After she left I said to my dear friend "she is an artist and just won't say so." But, we are all artists and won't say so. We all have the ability to create. I guess it is the all mighty dollar that defines "artist" to society but, we can all claim it.
Two things just popped into my head. I know, two, shocking isn't it.
Black paper with a drawing of an unicorn in white chalk or white crayon.
A mosaic rooster made with assorted types of beans.
Writing this just made those images pop into my head. Some of you might know these items of which I speak.
Humans create. Go make a thing of beauty and claim yes, yes I am an artist.
I create for it brings me pleasure.
I create for it makes a lovely day.
I had one of those today. Spent with a friend. One of my 2am friends. A 2am friend is one you know you could call at 2am with an emergency or even without an emergency and they would rush over, no make up on, hair standing on end, in their pajamas to help or just be with you. Yes. I'm fortunate to have several of these.
We went to Color Me Mine. A place where you pick out a ceramic doo dad and paint it. Then they fire the thing for you and you pick it up later. That's the part that always feels weird to me. You go in. Spend some time debating on what item you want. Then deciding on what you want to paint. Deliberate on paint colors. Then spend some serious time painting the thing. Then you pay. And then you leave. With. Nothing. Always leaves me with a feeling of wait, what just happened? Then you go back to pick up your thing of beauty. Now that part is rather fun and will happen on Thursday. It is like a surprise. And really it is a surprise because glaze paints are flat and unexciting and not what they are going to look like when fired so, you never really know what the thing of beauty is going to look like until you pick it up.
It was lovely to spend the afternoon, painting, creating and chatting. I made a moon jar. A what? Well, I'll tell you when I get it, I'll take pictures and then explain what the heck that is so stay tuned.
In addition to the sharing and creating, apparently I spouted some words of wisdom or words to consider or I don't know but, my dear friend said I needed to blog it so here it is:
My dear friend made a comment about the imperfection of her thing of beauty to which I responded "if we wanted perfect we should have gone to Macy's and bought one".
We are so critical of our things of beauty that we create. Somehow it never measures up to something. We never feel it is good enough for something. But, those mass produced, inferior, over priced, piece of shit things? oh those are good because.....I don't know. Because everyone has one? Because anyone can get one? I'm not sure. It is socially acceptable to display and have those things, I suppose.
There was a young woman in the store who was painting on a mug and painted an amazing cat. Amazing life like cat. I said wow that's beautiful. My dear friend asked "are you an artist?" The woman answered "no, I just like to paint." After she left I said to my dear friend "she is an artist and just won't say so." But, we are all artists and won't say so. We all have the ability to create. I guess it is the all mighty dollar that defines "artist" to society but, we can all claim it.
Two things just popped into my head. I know, two, shocking isn't it.
Black paper with a drawing of an unicorn in white chalk or white crayon.
A mosaic rooster made with assorted types of beans.
Writing this just made those images pop into my head. Some of you might know these items of which I speak.
Humans create. Go make a thing of beauty and claim yes, yes I am an artist.
I create for it brings me pleasure.
I create for it makes a lovely day.
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