Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Having My Cake and Eating it too.

So after a long, long time and 40+ pounds, I have finally decided that SOMETHING has to be done about my aversion to exercise. A hundred months ago I decide to start running again (something I haven't done since 1998), and when you're running, it feels like flying sort of, so I thought it would be fun. That escapade ended with me begging the chubby dog to pull me back up the hill to our house...so I know running is out of the question this time--at least initially.
I decided last night to start walking. I took the chubby dog with me, and he and I did a very brisk walk. Everything from my house is uphill, and if you're not careful where you go, you have to come uphill at the end too. So I decided we'd do a loop up the street a bit, onto another street and then connect with the street that eventually reconnects at the top of my house and we'd come back down (that's the only downhill way I know!). So chubby dog perked his ears and we took off. Five houses or so later, my thighs were killing me and the i-Pod did nothing to distract me from the reminders that I used to walk everywhere in town (unless my friends were going the same way/place) because I was a deprived child without a car all through high school (another story, another time!). How is it that 15 years later I can't make it up a hill past five houses?
I did do the whole loop (in about 1/2 hour--I say it was about a mile, Hubby couldn't even give me that--where's the loving support?) and didn't collapse coming in the door to my house. I didn't even take a break--once chubby dog gets going, there's no stopping him!
I grabbed a bottled water, and realized that it has expired. How does water expire? I always thought that water tasted boring to begin with--if it's expired does it not rehydrate the body? Will it actually work in reverse? This panic lead me to eat a large piece (okay, 2 pieces) of cake. Now I probably need to walk the stinking loop twice and run it once. Now I'm panicking about how on earth I'm going to ward off the calories and how I'm going to make the pain stop and how on earth am I supposed to motivate myself to get up and get moving?
Maybe I need another piece of cake to debate this.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Selfish

Okay, so I realize how terribly selfish my last post sounded, and I'm sorry--I'm not trying to take anything away from anyone, nor am I really comparing my experience to what those in California are going through. I hope nobody took it that way.

And I know that there are many different circumstances surrounding the two various disasters, and I'm really not a big enough moron to only think of myself when there are so many suffering. If you're in CA, please know that I am thinking of you and praying for you.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Flashbacks

As we watch the tragedy in California, and as our town and state graciously provide numerous "prescribed" aka "controlled" burns around Los Alamos, I can't help but flashback. I know it's irrational, because I didn't lose anything. You'd think after over 7 years, I'd be over Cerro Grande, but in reality, I guess I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Cerro Grande II to strike. Stupid also because now I know many firemen, and I know the "inside lessons" we learned, and rationally I know that shouldn't ever happen again. I know that I'll be one of the first to know if there's even any hint of danger of it happening again...but it's hard not to go back in time.

Maybe that's why I'm a little more sympathetic to the callers that call in a panic asking about evacuations. Maybe that's why I listen to each caller's story of where they were years ago during it all. Maybe that's why I don't mind the millions of 911 calls about smelling smoke. Maybe that's why I myself can picture myself digging the ash out of my ears and nose and mouth again.

I can't make those that didn't live here during The Fire understand what it's like to be all alone in the town--even though there were 3 other dispatchers, hundreds of firemen from all over, multiple police agencies and the National Guard here. I can't make people imagine what it's like to not know where your family is or where they're staying or what they've done with your animals, because you're too busy answering the frantic calls of those that stayed behind during evacuations and attempting to coordinate rescue efforts--just to have those same frantic people refuse assistance once your officers have put themselves in danger to rescue them and their young child--to talk with your family. I can't begin to tell of the fear I felt when I had to tell several officers that they were trapped because the fire had taken over the bridge back to downtown and back to the station. I don't know how to describe the pain of returning the messages neighbors and judges and community members begging for information about their homes just to tell them that everything they had to leave behind in the mass evacuation is gone. I can't explain how it feels to know that every citizen but the 4 or 5 that refused to evacuate the town, every member of the fire department, every member of the police department but those 3 dispatchers and your supervisor and one officer and 4 National Guard members have been taken out of the town with the promise that somehow someone will be back for you all while the ash is so thick that you can't see more than 2 feet in front of you and you hear the roar of the fire echoing against the sound of the helicopters. I can't make someone feel the dirt and grunge and ash on a uniform that's been on you for over 40 hours as you've had literally 5 minutes of sleep, and you're still trying to smile and reassure those that ask that things will be okay. I can't imagine where the strength to hold scared co-workers or, once everything is gone and the town is reopened, the citizen that lost or that almost lost everything, in your arms came from, nor why I tried not cry with them. I don't know how to describe what it's like to watch grown men with badges and guns hold their heads in their hands, soiled with ash from fighting flames themselves, and cry like little boys. I don't know how to explain that those of us that lived here are bonded together--and those of us that worked emergency services then have an unbreakable respect for each other. It's a horrible club, and one that more and more are becoming a part of.

I don't know how to make myself forgive and stop reliving the emotions, so how can I help others understand why the majority of the town also cannot move on?

I totally forced myself on another blogger, The Imperfect Complainer (she's linked on the side of this blog), and I read tonight that she and her husband have had to evacuate. Please keep her and her husband in your prayers. I know many of us have been where they are, and I know that things can look very bleak for a long time--once the flames go out, the memories and the damage left behind can last forever.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

The Mouse

There's a mouse in my house. And he ain't Mickey Mouse.

He's about 3-4 inches long, grey and very, very fast. He is also a magician, as he's on my counter tops in the kitchen.

I'm afraid of mice. I scream like a little girl and panic when I see them. Years ago, my first experience with a mouse resulted in my grabbing the zoo (we seriously have a million animals that are allowed to live here--dogs, cats, the occasional ant that finds its way inside the house--I won't even kill a spider, but there's just no room for a mouse) and racing upstairs, closing and locking the bedroom door and demanding that Hubby return home from work RIGHT NOW to take care of the problem. The second mouse encounter was as I was walking through the house and turning back to where I'd been and I saw the mouse (dead of course) in the middle of the path I'd just walked. Again, I called Hubby and demanded that he return home from work RIGHT NOW to retrieve the body--I was trapped in the kitchen until Hubby came to get the body...who's going to cross a dead body knowingly?

I have gotten better. I praise God that the cats don't eat the mice, but rather play with them until the mice stop playing and then leave them where they stopped. However, I still cannot do removal myself.

So this Sunday, I was putting dishes in the dishwasher. I have been aware that we have a mouse hole (they seriously ate a hole in my wall) for a while. It's on the floor behind the water heater that has a hole to the ground, because we live in a government built hovel that has no insulation or really foundation--it was temporary housing that's lasted about 40 years longer than was intended. Anyway, Hubby was supposed to fix the hole, but since he works some weekends and I work every...well, day, we haven't made the trip to the only home store chain I'm allowed in (allowed by Hubby to go in...there was an unfortunate incident several years ago at a home store chain that resulted in my sitting on the floor in hysterics and tears, and nobody wants that incident relived, so we just don't return for fear of flashbacks--another story for another time) and gotten foam or something to take care of the hole.

I should break here and explain that I don't want to kill the mice. The first encounter with the mouse years ago where Hubby had to race home was because I was trying to save the mouse's life. I swear it looked up at me with its beady little eyes and begged me for mercy as Tom Cat swatted at it...I seriously heard a voice reminding me that this horrid little creature that had me on a couch screaming my head off was also God's creature. That mouse got away because after I dragged the then 2 dogs and 2 cats upstairs, Hubby couldn't find it. Because of that first mouse, I will not set a trap. (Well, that and because then I'd still have the removal issue.) I don't think the glue traps are at all humane (and then I'd still have the removal issue and sticky paws on 2 cats to boot) and I've heard that the mice actually cry out when they are stuck to the glue trap. I don't want one of the traps that has poison in it that the mice then take back to their nests (then I just have dead mice in the walls and possibly dead cats from following the mice into the poison source). I just want them to move to another house. In fact, I'd like to plant them in my neighbor's house that's attached but down two units from my house...but that's again, another story for another time.

So this Sunday I'm loading the dishwasher when this grey blur tears out in front of me ON THE COUNTER TOP and takes off for the other end of the kitchen. I'm hyperventilating, trying to escape the kitchen, but the government built hovel we live in is a two butt kitchen, and Hubby is behind me with the fridge door open so there's no exit. I begin to climb onto the washer (who else but the government would put a washer in a kitchen?), when I realize that if the mouse is ON THE COUNTER TOP, it's quite likely he could make the short leap onto the washer. I was stuck, and I don't know the last time so many prayers have been sent in such a short compact time. Fortunately for the mouse, Hubby is so distracted by me that the mouse escapes behind the stove and is not caught for the Mouse Relocation Program.

Since Sunday, I have been afraid of the kitchen. I know he's there. I know he's waiting for me. I believe that every creak, every clatter, every little sound is him, plotting his revenge. I don't know how he's getting on the counter, but I believe that he's teaching all of his brothers and sisters how to get up there and no matter how much scrubbing and bleaching I do, he will have been there, laughing at me. He may be only 3-4 inches, and I may be 66 inches; he may weigh under one pound, and I may weigh--well, let's not go there--but he has my rear end kicked.

And somehow I'm supposed to use the kitchen to make meals, bake for a bake sale and get my medication that's stored in a cabinet there. Maybe I'll try to pretend that I live in Mickey's Playhouse. Maybe I'll write Mickey for some ideas. After all, they probably are related somehow.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Another Day of OT

Another day off and I've been suckered into work, so you know it's time for more useless babble from me. What's on my mind? A couple of things:

1) Why is it that I agree to come into work for a mere 4 hours to cover someone that calls in sick, and my relief waits until AFTER I'm in the door at work to announce that she's not coming in at 1830 as agreed? Shouldn't there be some sort of "NO" course of action for this? I can't leave until she does meander in. She did agree to come at 2030, but seriously, at that point I've already missed my family commitment, and I might as well stay until her regularly scheduled shift at 2230. So I called her and told her so. Ok, so I didn't tell her that since I had to miss my family thing--but I did say that I might as well stay the extra 2 hours.

2) This is the second night that I've been called to cover for someone on the weekends. It's a darn good thing that I switched to the weekdays--who else would cover? Last night we were watching the Mythbusters in Albuquerque, so I didn't come in when I was called...which gives another co-worker the chance to be a martyr since she worked 12 hours, left for 4 hours, and came back to work 16 hours. When I worked the weekends, nobody would cover for us, and we ended up hardly ever calling in--we just came and sniffled/groaned/took a million over the counter drugs and suffered. I do feel bad for the co-worker that had to work a zillion hours, and I did offer to come in once we got back to town this morning at 0100, but she was adamant that I have a day off...perhaps because we sort of had a warning that I was going to have to work today, and I'm working some awful hours this week (like 9 days in a row, and 6 of those are 12 hour shifts).

3) Thank God for DVRs and TiVO. Apparently, the only time anything can happen in Podunk happens during "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" and "Desperate Housewives." No, I don't know why the power is off or how long it will be off--I'm 9-1-1/Police/Fire/Ambulance, and although I can sound like the voice of God, I'm not an electrician and my crystal ball is out of commission :)

4) Why is it that the more clothes I buy, the less I have to wear? Maybe it's because I haven't done laundry in a while...or because when I work, I eat a million more calories than when I'm off and I keep outgrowing the clothes...I'm sure it's not either of those.

5) Thinking of outgrowing things, I think I broke my couch. We got the couches about 2 years ago (we'd ordered them way before they arrived), and while sitting on the couch the other weekend, the couch made a groaning noise and felt like the legs were flying out to the other side of it (know what a colt looks like attempting to get to its legs for the first time and the legs keep splaying out awkwardly while it struggles to get them under its belly?). We flew off the couch, but there are no broken legs or visible sinking in the middle, no coils sticking out or boards dropping. However, when you sit in the middle, you can feel yourself sinking. If I'm not at work tomorrow, I'm supposed to call La-Z-Boy and ask what's up.

6) OOH! We got new end tables and a coffee table. That means we now have 2 whole rooms in the house that don't have any hand-me-downs/other peoples' taste in them. YEA! We're almost grownups!

7) WOW! We just got a B&E in progress...and my co-worker kicks butt :) The town is safe tonight.

8) Can't remember this point because it turns out the B&E was an animal in a yard. The town is still safe tonight.

9) Know those little vacation scams? The ones that offer you so many nights/days/cash back if you listen to a 2 hour sales speech? We got another offer, and it's tempting, because since I was traveling every month earlier this year, it seems odd not to be traveling until Christmas, and since I have weekends off, I'm forcing Hubby to run away with me to quick weekend getaways. Ok, so actually, it's his idea to go back to Phoenix in November, and I think I'm going to ask him to go to Colorado Springs in a couple of weekends to see our kiddo that's shipping off to the Middle East right before Christmas (and maybe I can finally see my homegirl that I haven't seen in a million years). However, this offer is for Las Vegas, and we were just there a year ago, and we don't really drink or gamble. Hubby likes the idea I think, and there are always shows, so maybe we will go...and then we'll get suckered into the timeshare thing because we always do.

10) Okay, I lied. I'm actually going on a cruise in November, like in just over 2.5 weeks. With a bunch of women I don't know. There will be 2 friendly faces in the group, and they're all ladies of the church that Hubby has been attending for over a year (and that I'm supposed to attend now that I have weekends off--hahaha--the one Sunday I had off and that I hadn't worked the night before until 0630 that Sunday morning, I did go). I'm a little nervous because I don't know the majority of them even by sight, and I have no idea who my cruisemate is. However, you can't go wrong with a cruise to Cozumel!

11) If all my leave slips get approved, I'll be off every Friday in November except the day after Thanksgiving, which is a holiday and therefore double time and a half. Now who's being a work slacker?

I'm all out of thoughts other than my tummy growling and I get to go home! Yippee!

Saturday, October 13, 2007

What Are Your Names?

Finally, a way to name my personalities :)

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)
Pilgrim Cherokee Thats right, baby--opening now for the Rolling Stones

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)
Vanilla Chocolate Chip Don't mess with me or I'll go all gooey

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)
KSto Hopefully not related to KFed...

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Blue Monkey Would you question my authority?

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Elisabeth Towson (Baltimore) I know that you're my mother's second dead husband's son's brother, and therefore also my cousin--but I can't help but love you!

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)
Stoka I am really Luke's mother

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
The Green Lemon Drop (Martini) I am the questionable sidekick

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
Russell Kenneth Francis See--I must be true Nascar from the South--I have a hundred names!

9. DANCER NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)
Angel Junior Mint Sister to Devil Senior Mint?

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names )
Ellen Bradford Guess I won't be going into hiding now

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)
Dean Dallas I hope the weather is as dry as this name!

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower)
Christmas Lily Maybe I could hide under the tree since we know I won't fit behind a lily!

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + "ie" or "y")
Apple Booty Sounds more like my "dancer" name!

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)
Barbecue Aspen How appropriate for Podunk

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)
The Sleeping Lightening Tour If lightening is sleeping, it must not be that exciting :(

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Bleeding Green and Gold

So I may be the saddest person on Earth...I sincerely remember LOVING high school. In fact, I remember loving it so much that I have gone to Homecoming parades and games ever since high school (which was long enough ago that I'm embarrassed to tell because it just reminds me how old I am becoming...but that's another post another day). For the past several years I have forced my sorority sisters to dress themselves and their children and spouses in Topper colors and to brave the cold afternoons/evenings in the spirit of celebrating with the town Homecoming--it doesn't even matter to me that a number of my sorority sisters aren't from here and weren't Toppers; I've made them honorary Toppers.

Let's pause here for a moment, while we discuss what a truly ridiculous thing a Topper is. Legend has it that millions of years ago (OK, so the town is just now approaching 60 years, so it couldn't be "millions" of years ago), the high school mascot was actually a top hat and cane. That's absurd enough--how do you dress up like the mascot?--but apparently it was offensive, as if those of us in Podunk were rubbing in the status of being better off than 90% of New Mexico*, and the Hilltopper mascot changed into this big, hairy red-headed man that stood on top of a mountain with his hands held out to the side. That then became an issue, because the man's hands were reported to be shaped so that he was passing on a racist slogan. The artist had painted the forefinger angled out with the middle and ring finger together and the pinkie out stretched so that it could be argued that his hand was arched as if making a "W", and that offended somebody that obviously had way too much time on HIS hands, because he thought it stood for White Supremacy**. So the Hilltopper is now a large hairy red-headed man on a mountain with all five fingers distinctively drawn out on both hands. Needless to say, nobody dresses up like this mascot either.

Instead, students, staff, alumni and the town have embraced the Topper colors, green and gold. Over the years there have been arguments about whether the green is forest green or Kelly green, and whether the gold is truly a golden yellow or just yellow, but as long as you're in some sort of green and some sort of yellow, we'll embrace you as a Topper.

Homecoming in Podunk is a huge deal. I love Podunk this time of year, because of the town bonding over Homecoming. The schools let out a little after noon, and most shops in town come to a standstill while the staff and patrons meander out to our Central Avenue (really is in the center of town) and watch all the organizations march with floats enthusiastically cheering on the current theme of "Lasso the Losers" or "Eliminate the Enemy" (no, we've never actually had those themes--that would be RUDE, and a big hairy red-headed man is not rude) and tossing candy to the children that are everywhere.

Typically, my mom and I watch the parade together, dressed in green and gold (I even humiliate Hubby by breaking out his Letterman jacket that's so old it's losing its pins), whether we're joined by the sorority sisters and their children or not. Immediately following the parade, I usually race home and load up a truck with my grill and goodies and head to the parking lot by the town's football field, where I'm joined by other crazy tailgaters (no alcohol allowed, as we're within so many feet of school property) until the sorority ladies trickle in with their families. We all then don face paint and pom-poms and race into the stands so we can freeze together and mainly not watch the game***, but visit with others around us that come out once a year for this occasion. We sing the fight song loudly and off key****--again, humiliating Hubby who usually is trying to watch the game with whatever other poor long suffering husband got suckered into attending with us--and have a great time.

This year, however, for the first time in 15 years, I did not attend the parade or the game. Instead, I had to work--and it was with great force that my supervisor got me into work, I'll confess (actually, it only took an e-mail saying "you will work" and my need for some sleep between shifts). I didn't see any floats. I didn't eat any hot dogs. I didn't catch up with the other alumni that turn out (there are a surprisingly large number of us). I didn't put on any face paint. Instead, I put on my green work uniform shirt and my khaki BDUs (the closest I can get to green and gold and still comply with the uniform requirements. My super awesome sorority secret sister made me a little Topper spirited koozy for my coke cans (it's green with pom-pom like stuff attached to the sides!), and I brought that in to work with me. And I only had a little pity party for myself. And the officers and other dispatchers only laughed a little at me.

However, I like to think that my spirit transmitted over the radio waves, as the town was flying high due to the Toppers major win (30-0!). Go Toppers!

*Some jackass announced that 1 in 10 of those living in Podunk are millionaires...I don't to whom they are referring, as I know more than 10 people, and most of us are paycheck to paycheck thanks to this circulating belief that we can afford milk that's $4.79 a gallon or spend $300/month for keeping the thermostat at 65 degrees (and that drops to 55 degrees after 10 pm because Hubby freaks over the bill!) for a 1078 square foot condo, because we're millionaires...it's an evil cycle!
**Before living in Podunk, I lived in some big cities--like Denver, the city that the Neo-Nazis were at one point trying to make a strong presence in--and, despite this jerk's insistence that everyone knew it was a White Supremacy sign, I had, and still have never have, heard anything of the sort. It's a good thing we're all millionaires, since we had to chip in our tax dollars to get the mascot repainted...
***Podunk isn't like other small towns with our high school football obsession--we only obsess at Homecoming and if we make it to the State Championships.
****Lyrics available.