Let's Fly Naked!

Shoes, no shoes, liquids, no liquids, gels, no gels. Carry on luggage? Yes. No.
Nail clippers? No. Yes. Pocket knife? No. Yes, if its teeny tiny. Knitting needles? no. Baby food? Yes. The list of TSA restricted/approved items is not only ridiculously long but just plain ridiculous. In these times of airline cutbacks (no more free peanuts, and only "food for purchase" being offered) Now airline passengers are not allowed to bring beverages on board. Not even beverages bought at the airport, which I'm assuming have already been screened if they are being sold on the "secure" side of the checkpoint. Perhaps I'm just naive.

Why is it ok to have baby food but not adult food (or rather drink)? Have you ever had to hang out with me if I'd dehydrated? Let me tell you, I can get downright cranky. I feel really bad for those flight attendants, who in order to line the pockets of the company execs have taken some serious pay cuts and more than likely they can not count on the pension plan they were promised now have to put up with cranky unfed dehydrated passengers dinging the damn bell everytime they want a water refill. Flying just can't be fun anymore.

Of course I'm also a bit of a conspiracy theorists. It seems a little convenient that as W's approval ratings have tanked, we all of the sudden have a new threat, and gee isn't it a good thing we're out there fighting the war on terrorism. HEY, how 'bout we conduct ourselves in a manner that doesn't piss everyone off?? Why do we expect every other country to be concerned about "world opinion" but we don't give a hooey?

So my plan for the future.... let's be nice to everyone and Let's Fly Naked!

Something insightful

Not. Nothing. I have a serious case of writers block. Bloggers block even. I'm pretty sure it's because I'm sad. Feeling rather alone here these days. My roommate's out of town, my sister's out of town, my best friend lives in LA, my other best friend is on a business trip. You'd think with all this extra time, 'cause I have no socializing to do, I'd be able to write, but nothing's coming. And I miss my Dad. I had a good cry tonight. Sundays are the hardest. I used to talk to my Dad on Sunday mornings. After the CBS morning show, after my coffee and my newspaper. So now my Sundays feel off.

Today I spent most of the day filling out paperwork for the Probate Court. The initial inventory of assets is due August 24, four months after we (my sister and I) qualified as executors. Those four months went fast. And now I'm stressed about the money, especially since I just sent a check, from my personal funds, to the funeral home to pay for the funeral. ouch. It's expensive to die. Actually, I guess for the dead, it's not, it's expensive for those left living. Not to mention emotionally draining. And in my Dad's case, he didn't leave things in good order. As an example, one insurance policy still had my mom as the beneficiary-- my mom who died in 1978. So I had to get a copy of her death certificate, which finally came in the mail, so we can make a claim for the insurance funds. But that's just one tiny example.

Bottom line is this is so overwhelming.

Hey LeahPeah!

Hey Leahpeah (I had to say it again so I could link) Did you know your blog sent 187 people to my blog this month so far? That means that WAY more than 187 people actually read your blog, and that I have WAY too much time on my hands if I'm worried about tracking stats on my little blog!

But seriously. That is a bit intimidating. Like maybe I should write something incredibly insightful and meaningful to entice these 187 people to come back and play. Instead, I'm using up my creative brain cells at work. The brain cells that work on automatic pilot for things like breathing and eating and sleeping are working just fine. But the creative ones are tired by the time I get home. I've spent the day (with the exception of an email here or there) writing about welding. This week its been about helmets, welding helmets, auto-darkening welding helmets to be specific. Oh, and I also wrote about nozzles (front end parts for TIG Torches), but you can't read that until the article comes out in Practical Welding Today.

So maybe I'll write something inspirational tomorrow.

I Rock!

After a few hours of pulling out my hair, searching google, and every How-To-HTML website out there I finally figured it out.... how to actually make a Form work, specifically a Contact Us form, or even more specifically a Talk To Me form. I haven't incorporated it into the front end navigation yet, but feel free to test it out and let me know if its working. In case you missed it, that link is:

Talk To Me!

comments are cool too.

Blogher Post #2

I had all these grand ideas about blogging some of what I learned at Blogher, writing about the cool people I met there, some of whom are now on the side bar, but he writing thing, well, that really hasn't happened.

I got to Blogher by volunteering on the Audio team, our mission was to record all the panel discussions and workshops to be turned into podcasts. Cool idea, and since I am interested in audio (I'm an NPR-O-Holic with dreams of getting a story on This American Life) I thought it would be a great opportunity to learn a bit about how this thing is done. And I did. I learned, but most of all I just jumped in there and did it. I looked cool (ok, I looked like a dork but I felt cool) sitting at the controls, head phones on, tinkering with and monitoring input levels. As if I knew what I were doing HA! Well, it did make me brave enough to pull out my new M-Audio Micro Trak Digital recorder and interview some fellow Bloghers. The question was "Why do you blog?" and here are some answers, edited into a little soundprint called Why Blog (mp3 format). Not sure this is the best way to do this, I think I can make it so a little player shows up here in this post, and you can play when you click, but I haven't learned that part yet. So you'll just have to click on the MP3 and launch your own audio player. It's under 2 minutes and about 500K.

Thanks to the following Bloghers for lending me their voices:

Life After Breakfast
Her Bad Mother
Fire on the Poop Deck
LeahPeah
Jennster and
Susan at 2020Hindsight

apologies for the creative yet not perfect editing... my first turn with Audacity.

Bad Kitty Mommy

.
I admit it, I'm a bad kitty mommy. It's not that I don't love my cat. Truly I do. In fact, I'm the only one who does. Which makes it even worse...

A little over a year ago she was diagnosed with diabetes. Feline Diabetes. So I had to give her insulin shots twice a day. I was diligent. I researched. I changed her food... I got up and out of bed at 6 am every morning to give her a shot. And I only stabbed myself with the needle twice! And her BG levels went down. (BG is blood glucose for those not so diabetes savvy folks out there).

Then the UTIs started. That's urinary tract infection for those not urinary-tract-savvy folks out there. It was a mess. Literally. And we were all miserable. So I took her to the vet each and every time. She didn't like the first medicine. She actually threw it up even though the vet said it was the right one for the type of infection it was based on the lab re$ult$. It was bad. We changed medicine. Problem was that only worked for a short time and I ended up at the vet again, and again and again. And then the Veterinary $pecialty Ho$pital which cost me a lot of money. Thank god I had it, but now, I don't.... which brings me to the next bad kitty mommy example. I never did get her in for a follow up (Read my posts about my dad, and you'll know why). The only good news here was her BG levels were too low, so I got to take her off of insulin, and sleep until 7 am.

And finally, bad kitty mommy example number 3. My cat has trouble walking. Which may be damage from the diabetes. Or arthritis, or could be because she is a Maine Coon and has hip displaysia. and I've been hesitant to take her in because of the money issue, especially when they start saying words like MRI, but now I don't have a choice becuase the UTI is back, and her legs aren't getting any better, and it makes me cry when she tries to jump up onto the sofa to hang out with me and she can't. Truth is I haven't wanted to deal with it because I am afraid that she will have to be put down or something and I don't think I can handle that right now.

Shamu doesn't use his blinker

That's right. Yesterday on the way to work, I watched Shamu of SeaWorld fame zooming in and out of traffic heading north on the I-5. My first thought was, if that were me in that Volkswagon (I drive a Cyber Green beetle)


I'd be glad the windows were so darkly tinted! I mean that car has a tail fin! and a dorsal fin!

and no blinker.....

PS this photo is from 2003 when I bought my car.

Blogher post #1

I admit it. I'm not the avid blogger I pretend to be, which you'll realize if you stop by and peruse the sporadic posts.

I'll post more about Blogher 2006 later, I'm exhausted, but for my first post, I thought I'd mention the first person I met, Steve, who was at the Blogher conference with his mother-- an 80 something year YOUNG blogger. I admit, I get a little teary-eyed thinking about it. And jealous too. How wonderful to be able to share this crazy technology thing with your mom.

I wonder if my mom would be a blogger. I know she was an avid letter-writer, as I have a shoebox full of letters she'd written to my grandparents, to my dad when he was a sea, letters home to my sister and I from vacationing sans the kids in the Orient. I just don't know if she would have embraced this new technology.

I know my dad read my blog, at least a few times. He mentioned once that he liked what I wrote about my sister. But I don't think he ever got into the blogging thing in general. He did own all the latest computer equipment (he was an engineer). I also found out he even had an I-pod. His music list was very varied: from Hawaiian slack key guitarists Keola and Kapono Beamer, to Diana Krall, James Taylor, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon... I'm sure I could come up with more, but I'm very tired. Too many late nights, too little sleep.

I know it seems strange that I mention a "BlogHim" in my first post about the BlogHer conference, but seriously, he was the first person I met. I sat down at a table with my coffee, and he was there. He may have said something before asking "Do you know my mom?" but I don't remember.

"No, should I?" I answered, instantly outing myself as a blog community illiterate. And just to clarify I added "I really don't know anybody."

"Well you do now, I'm Steve."

So thanks Steve for making me feel not quite so intimidated. Next time I want to make sure I meet your mom, though-- she really seems cool.

I did meet lots of incredible women, doing cool stuff in audio, video, social activism, community building, and just plain good writing. As soon as I get some sleep I'm sure I'll be able to focus some of my thoughts and get them down on ether.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Today is the 2 year anniversary of my blog!!
I'll blog more about that later....

BlogHER

Yup. I'm going. I feel like I'm crashing the party though. I signed up, no wait, I didn't actually sign up, I volunteered to be on the Audio Team even though I have no experience whatsoever. I did finally buy the digital audio recorder I wanted so I have something to contribute. A few cryptic emails from someone named Mir and someone named Toy and I'm in. Not sure about the cocktail party, do I have a ticket? Is that included with my pass? Do I have any choice in what I want to record? I'm excited and nervous all at the same time. There are going to be some 700 women there! that's a lot of estrogen in one place! I may have to wander over the San Jose Grand Prix to get a little testosterone fix.

Pain

The blisters on the balls of my feet are almost healed. I was hoping that by the time the blisters healed I would stop feeling pain, but that was just wishful thinking.

I got these blisters marching behind my father's casket wearing high heeled shoes in the pouring rain, rain that masked my tears and seemed particularly fitting for a funeral.

Walking behind the caisson seemed like a good idea, but it was farther than the funeral director led us to believe, and the soldiers marched faster than he led us to believe, or maybe it just seemed that way because of the rain and the burgeoning blisters. I took my shoes off and walked on the asphalt road, bits of gravel digging into my soles less painful than the blisters, less painful than the hole in my heart.... a hole that has not yet healed. I miss my dad.

but wait, there's more...

One other good thing that came out of my Dad's death was the opportunity to see my cousin Terri, the daughter of my mother's sister (also now passed). It was great to see her. I also met her husband Kenny, and my 2nd cousin Bradley.

I should also mention that my friend Ralph came out with Debby and I for moral support and to help deal with the "stuff" in my Dad's condo. It is overwhelming to sort through someone else's life, and determine what to keep and what to sell and what to toss. My friend Martin also came down for moral support... My sister Debby also had several friends drop in. It is all appreciated very much.

Thankfully, my Dad had a will, which makes some things a little easier, but the best advice I can give anyone, especially those of you with children, children or anyone who may become executor of your estate, be sure to have your affairs in order. I know it is difficult to think about, but as they say, the only thing certain in life is death and taxes. If you don't have a will, get one. NOW. Make sure the beneficiary information on ALL your accounts, bank accounts, life insurance policies, IRAs, etc are up-to-date. My mother, who passed away in 1978 is still listed as beneficiary on several policies, which really slows things down in settling the estate and paying for things that need to be paid for. (finerals are expensive)

NOLO is a good place to start. Know the laws in your state, and plan accordingly.

The funeral

We laid my dad to rest on July 5, 2006 at Arlington National Cemetery. He is interred with my mom. We hosted a full military honors funeral, complete with marching band, caisson, and gun salute. The reception took place in the Hall of Honors at the Women in War Memorial. I suppose as far as funerals go, it was a nice service, and it poured down rain. Matched my mood just fine.

It was nice, too, in a weird way to have some time with friends and family. We met my 2nd cousin Gail from Michigan... though she says we've met before (I was 2 I think and don't remember) but she was a hoot-- wish we'd known her all these years. We also re-connected with other cousins from my Dad's dad side of the family: Jay from New Jersey and Craig from Boston as well as cousins and uncles from my Grandma's side, Uncle Tommy and Uncle Johnny, cousin Tom and Roseanne, Laura, Chris, sort of a swirling mass of relatives.

Many of my Dad's collegues attended as well, most touching was Nancy H. coming in from Missouri just for the funeral. She said my Dad was a very important mentor to her over the years. And many long time friends also attended-- a couple of Naval Academy classmates, some shipmates and some other workmates from Dad's post-Navy days.

My sister and I also had several friends come out for moral support. Thanks to everyone for coming and honoring our Dad. And to Aunt Mary K and Uncle Bill (and cousin Katie) who were right at the center with Debby and I providing much needed support.

I managed to squeak out my poem, First Dance, at the funeral, and bid aloha to my pop. Here's the poem I read, written in 2002, I gave it to him for Father's Day that same year:

Bamboo covered walls,
tiki torches, and
drinks served in coconut shells

Tropical music lingering in the air

The Maui Lu Hotel Lounge.

This was the real thing, not some mainland reproduction

I wore a polynesian print halter dress
and white strappy sandals
My first grown up shoes

He was tan and tall, or so he seemed to me
Dark hair,
smiling eyes,
elegant in his blue aloha shirt and white slacks

He held out his hand and asked me to dance

I don't remember the song,
but I do remember
the way I felt
when I stepped up
onto the tops of his shoes
and he twirled me around the room

Daddy's little girl.

Not. Good. Enough.

My sister’s mad at me and I’m not sure why. I guess its because I’m not doing enough, but I don’t know what to do. And some days I’m so overwhelmed with sadness and anger I have to wrench myself out of bed, leaving barely enough time to drink coffee and dress before I have to leave for work. And when I get home from work, and running errands, and make some dinner I’m too tired in my head to do anything more than watch something absolutely inane on t.v.

And when I’m at work, I’m not doing enough there either. I feel horribly guilty spending work time on personal business, faxing the caterer, calling the bank, the lawyer, lawyers, faxing the accountant, the insurance company, companies. And when Anne asks me if have any hours to deduct from my PTO, I should say, “Oh take three hours off for the time I spent talking to Merrill Lynch, and RSVP caterers, and the emails I sent, and the obituary I wrote.” But I say nothing, knowing that between the time I already spent back east, which was Not. Good. Enough. and the upcoming week in July for the funeral, which is also Not. Good. Enough. I am actually 40 hours in the hole on my “vacation” time. And the knot in my stomach gets tighter and my breath gets a little more shallow and my lip juts out and my throat closes and the tears start to slip out of the corners of my eyes and run down the sides of my face. Sometimes if I tilt my head back I can stop them, but sometimes all I can do is take off my glasses and press the palms of my hands to my eye sockets and hope for the best.

So yeah. It sucks, it’s not fair that my sister is in DC dealing with a condo full of crap and I can't help her, and I can't be whatever she needs me to be, and it’s not fair that I’m spending my current and future vacation NOT traveling to Alaska, NOR sunning at a villa in Mexico or Greece, but instead I’ll be hauling bags of paper in and out of a condo in DC and attending a funeral.

I’m so tired of feeling Not. Good. Enough. as if every small step forward I make is not covering enough ground, as if the tears I cry are not wet enough, the sobs are not loud enough, I’m not upset enough, concerned enough, caring enough, supportive enough. I have to take care of myself too, you know. I have to earn a living and pay my rent and keep up with my writing, otherwise I will not survive and will Never. Be. Good. Enough.

Father's Day

So yesterday, I spent the day shopping. Not for a to-be-mailed-late gift for my dad, but a dress for his funeral. There's intense irony there that I'm not sure how to articulate.

Finding a proper dress for a funeral is really hard. There are so many things to consider.

First, of course, it must be black... or dark gray or some somber color, for a somber occassion.

Second, it should be somewhat sedate... nothing too low cut, nothing too bling. It's a funeral, not a night out on the town.

Third, it should fit. This is the hard part for me. Short, round, if it fits over my butt, it's way too big across the top and always too long rendering me into a frumpy mass of WHATEVER.

So Marshalls had nothing, I did pick up a fabulous pair of shoes however.

Ross-- nothing-- so I had to go to The Mall. I never go to The Mall. I hate The Mall. Everything is so expensive. And usually ugly, thus making the entire experience completely dreadful. I didn't want to spend a lot of money on this dress anyway, figuring I would probably never wear it again.

I still remember the dress I wore to my mother's funeral. I was 13. My dress was blue (back then it was hard to find a black dress for a child). It was a nice dress, and it hung in my closet after that. Same with the chocolate brown silk top I wore to my grandma's funeral. And the blue dress shirt I wore to my granddad's funeral. I expect the same fate for whatever new item I purchased for this funeral, to be relegated to the back of the closet, buried there forever.

I parked at Sears. I always park there, mostly because it's the only way I'm sure to remember where I parked. I think my grandma used to park there. Besides, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could find an inexpensive black dress there.

I did find one completely shapeless floor length dress, which if I had a good tailor just might work.... So I headed over to Robinsons-May. Which no longer exists, proving just how long its been since I went to The Mall so I ended up at Macy's. I couldn't even find the Women's Dresses there. Sure, they had some cute tiny little dresses in the Junior department, and some oh-so-trendy dresses in the designer sections, but no basic, boring dresses, the kind you wear to work in grey cubicles, or to go to funerals. The "Special Occassion" dress section doesn't include funeral attire.

As a last resort, I went to Nordstroms. I knew I should have gone there first even though I knew it was gonna cost me a lot more than Marshalls would have. Suprisingly, there was not a huge number of dresses to choose from, however, there was one, the right one. It's a basic black and white print dress, right at the knee, so not too short, not too long. Its vee neck line is flattering, and the basic black insert makes it sedate. The print looks a little Diane Von Furstenburg but without the sticker shock. Only 78 dollars. Ouch.

My roommate says its a nice dress that I'll wear it again. I doubt it, but we'll see. At least I'll look nice for the funeral.

Crawdaddy Weekend...

I mean Crawberts: Joe and Leah. Yeah! They came down for the weekend from Simi Valley, which I'm not really sure where that is, but I think it was far. They made the rounds around San Diego county and stopped to visit me. So we had a party.

Leah made some yummy dip thing out of cool whip and cherry flavored yogurt. The yogurt was organic, so does that make it healthy? hmmm. Anyway, mix that up and dip in some strawberries and you have a delicious treat! Thanks Leah. Oh yeah, and they left me lots of chicken that never made it to the grill, instead its in my freezer waiting for the next barbeque opportunity.

Sunday I was going to maybe go to brunch, but ended up writing instead, completely re-working a short fiction piece that I already submitted to my Read and Critique group on Saturday morning. Oh well. Then I went to a literary event hosted by San Diego Writers, Ink. I'll post a "review" later.

Sunday evening I spent at my sister's eating dinner and going through old photos so we can put together a montage / homage for my Dad. I'll be scanning those photos over the next week... there's some funny ones.

Is it Friday yet??

Debby Update

From my sister... since everyone keeps asking....

Just a quick note to let you all know my PET scan results were good. my liver and lung are clear. The PET showed something still going on in the hip so i will check it out at radiology and may have to do a little more radiation depending on the mri. Very good news although I was secretly looking forward to going bald for the summer. I have also forgotten what a drag shaving is.

love to all and thanks for all those prayers and good wishes

debb


....she's doing great. Looks great. No apparent effects from the gamma knife. All is good.

--Jenn

Things I wish I didn't know about...

Gamma Knife comes to mind today because my sister will be undergoing gamma knife (again) to remove a something (lesion? micro-tumor? fleck of dust?) from her brain.

So next Wednesday I will get up at 5:30 am, pretend like I am happy to take her (which I am happy to do, just not happy that it has to be done) and hang out with her while they zap her brain with nearly microscopic beams of radiation, guided by a computer-generated digital map of her brain pinpointed to the exact spot where the anomoly is and then anhililate it. This is supposed to minimize damage to the surrounding brain tissue. It is sci-fi medicine at its finest, and given different circumstances I would find this fascinating. Instead it makes me sad and scares me.

And while we're on the subject... other things I would rather not know about:

Chemotheraphy
Cancer: breast, liver, stomach, and basically all forms of cancer
Depression
Alcoholism
OCD/Hoarding

When Darkness Morphs into Light...

You get rainbows. And that's what happened today.

This weekend was tough for me. I was very sad, especially on Sunday, a day I would usually talk to my dad. It felt like a dark weekend. Sunday especially, the clouds rolled in, and the wind got cold and damp, and before morning's light the rains came hard and fast and I listened.

I still haven't deciphered what I heard last night, but this morning there was a rainbow over the ocean between the dark clouds and the sun. I imagined there were dophins playing in the surf below and I felt a little better.

I Hate Mother's Day

Harsh, I know, but I hate that I don't have a mom. I hate going out on Mother's Day Sundays and seeing other people feting their mothers with champagne brunches and lunches and dinners.


I guess come June I'll hate Father's Day too...