It's A-Coming...

You can almost see it - and if you look on the displays of the local groceries, you can touch it, too!  Party hats, bottles of wine and champagne, and even those fake little plastic champagne glasses to toast the new year with.  I haven't quite decided if folks aren't celebrating because they're so relieved the old year is gone, or if they're heralding in a metaphorical new beginning.

2006 was good to me, and I rather hate to see it go, but let it go I must, just as you have to release all things that have run their course.

Have you made your resolutions?  Have you made sure the windows and doors are as they should be so that the old year can go out and the new can enter?  Got your collards, black eye peas and hog jowls ready to cook? Do you have your laundry done? (it's bad luck to do laundry on new year's day), and have you thought about where you'll be at midnight? - because I hear that whatever you're doing at midnight is what you can expect to be doing the rest of the year.

That could be true. At midnight, I'm usually sleeping or at the computer - and sure enough, that's what I do alllll yeaaaar loooooooooooooong - one or the other, without fail.

I have no resolutions.   I plan to let 2007 take me where it will, and I'm hoping it's a good driver because I'd like to get there as safely as possible.  And really, I'm not preparing for a new start...I'm just tying up loose ends.  There are things I will walk away from - not out of resolve, but because I cannot live with them the way they are for one more year.  Not even one more day.  But even in walking away, I know there will be something new and maybe even exciting...isn't there always?

And come midnight, I have to find something else to do besides sleep or stand by the screen lest someone says hi and I might miss it..heh. 

Everybody...Have a Happy.  Have a Safe.  And whatever wishes, longings, dreams you have for the coming 365 days with a new number attached, may you have them all.

ugh and aftermaths

Good morning.  I am typing to you from the Land of Holiday Food Hangovers.  Christmas was very, very good.  Everybody liked what I gave them, and my golly, it was wonderful to have my kids here.  There was noise!  And Sara Pie was here, which made it that much more special.  At 4 years old, she was the youngest of the children, and the magic was intact.

And it's time again for my too-nauseous-to-write repost.  Hope your Christmas left you glowing.  :-)

Aftermath

it’s the day after christmas. those of us who have no self-discipline are:
1. terminally hung over from aunt robbie’s/whitman’s/terry’s to-die-for delicacies

2. terminally aromatic from the perfume/aftershave we received and liked
3. pitifully destitute from spending more than we should have, but couldn’t help ourselves

those of us who feel the guilt are:

1. swearing off of chocolate for the rest of our lives
2. we smell good, so what the hell. one more spritz won’t hurt.
3. actively seeking secondary employment

those of us who are hopeful are:

1. Pondering the amazing transformation that will occur as a direct result of our well thought out new year’s resolutions
2. pondering a romance-scented night, when we shall wear nothing but our new perfume (after the nausea from overeating subsides. don’t rock that boat just yet. blech).
3. applying for a first-of-the-year loan.

and those of us whom the past year has changed are looking forward to new adventures, a life of service to others, new love when the old has worn too thin to cover everything it should, or old love that has become a thick blanket over time. we look forward to strengthening ties with family. we know which path is ours, and if it’s new territory, that’s fine, too. we’ll find our way, and we’ll be happy because we’re sure we’re doing what’s right.

aftermaths don’t have to smell of smoke. sometimes they’re new perfume.

wishing you all...

MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

and if i knew how to do graphics, i'd splash a big one right here of Rosie looking indignant in a Santa Hat when she wanted to be The Grinch.

Enjoy your families and all the Kodak moments the season brings.  :-)

chocolate overload

It was a quiet affair - Roberta and I sprang for subs, brought drinks and desserts and invited all the medical record assistants (also known as ward clerks) for lunch.  We were sitting around, talking and stuffing our faces when she walked in.

"i heard there was chocolate in here."  she walked on in the room with a frown on her face, marched up to the table, picked up a plate and said - "they tell me i'm grumpy, and this might help."  she looked over the table and said - "aha, there's LOTS of chocolate here."  she proceeded to load the plate, stopped, turned and looked at everybody - "i'm dr. atkinson," shrugged and went back to loading her plate.

i love that woman.  i've known her since my time as ward clerk on the residential MH unit, and if ever a psychiatrist belonged in prison, it's her.  i do her transcription now, and  the first few times, i was in stitches - NOT because of what the patients were going through, necessarily, but because of the direct quotes.  "He says he can't hold a job because the boss man always pisses him off and he quits."

was i supposed to type that?

"He is currently in the segregation unit because he called the officer on the floor an ass hole."

was i supposed to type that?

well heck yeah, she said it, didn't she?.  so i threw some quotation marks around the words and plowed on.  and once - "he says he wants to be transferred to another unit because, he says, this isn't a hospital - it's a prison!" 

sometimes i see her in the hallway and ask how she's doing.  once she said - Well, I'm fine, but my little dog...I think I have to put her on some medication.  She's depressed.

and today when i asked - are you feeling better after your chocolate?  she said - no, i'm pissed off.

well...why?

she held up her hand.  "I had to have surgery on my hand and I can't drive.  I'm an independent person - when I want to go somewhere, I don't want to have to ask somebody who'll say, 'well, let's wait a little while'.  I want to go THEN.  That second!"

"how long can you not drive?"

she snickered.  "as soon as i think i can drive, i'm driving.  i'm a doctor, you know.  And when I get home today, i'm calling my son - my husband and i aren't getting along right now - I'm calling my son and we're going to charlotte."

i get the feeling that not many people ask dr. atkinson how her day is going.  i sped back to the office, picked up one of the chocolate oranges someone gave me, whacked that sucker on the edge of the desk and took half of it to dr. atkinson.

"here, you need this more than i do."

not long ago, dr. h told me dr. a would be adding a close custody facility to her workload.  it has a reputation for being one of the worst prisons to work for, and i said.."well, i hope she can handle it."  dr. h looked at me with an amused expression on his face and said, "oh no, my dear, it's best to hope THEY can handle HER.

he has a point.

she's a trip, and i love it.

my 2007 mantra

    "The true road to personal improvement is not miraculous; it is slow and calls for a great deal of perseverance, but it is indeed possible to progress along this road, and your effort will be amply repaid."

    David Fischman

mother of the groom

Well, Dale and Jessica are married now.  It was a simple ceremony performed by a justice of the peace, but it had its touching moments.  Like when Jess was consumed with tears and couldn't repeat her vows for a minute.  My ears perked a little when that happened. Uh oh.  Was she having second thoughts?  She had turned her head away because she was so emotional, but when she looked up again at my son, her face was so full of love, there was no doubt in my mind that she will never have a second thought.  Except, perhaps, when he leaves his clothes all over the living room sofa.  And when he teases her mercilessly, or when he's being his grumpy self - but that's natural and expected.

And so they have begun a brand new life together.  It's exciting, and makes me remember how new everything once was, how the words "my husband" felt alien to my tongue, the words "our house" evoked a kind of thrilled wonder, and how conscious I was of making Sunday breakfast in my kitchen - the clatter of spatulas and pans, the scents of bacon frying and toast, the sight of the table adorned with two coffee mugs and the Sunday paper...and, of course, grits popping out of the pot and hitting my arm.  A person quickly learns- you don't boil grits on high.

They have a lot of new to get used to, but I hope with all my heart they feel the same wonder that embeds itself in memory - minus grits blisters, of course, and that they will be safe and happy, and know the kind of love that only deepens with time.

 

an issue of GREAT importance.

I have tea, indeed i do - but there is coffee in my veins, and i pay homage to juan valdez every morning at 6:30 sharp from a perfectly feng shui round mug. 

it has to be bold. it has to be sweet. it has to be perfect or i'll be blind all day.

on saturday, i went to the drive thru at a nameless here forevermore fast food place.  it's only nameless because i refuse to utter its name now...and asked for coffee.  they wanted to know - how many creams?  sugar?  well heck, i didn't know, that depends on how long the pot has been sitting there or how weak it was brewed, so i made a guess. 3 of each.

and so...i pulled through, got my coffee, looked for the cream in the bag and there was none.

"excuse me, miss, can i have some cream for this?"

"it's in your cup already."

i popped the lid, sipped it, parked and went in for more sweet. 

there was none!  so i asked for it.

"you'll have to bring your cup in so we can squirt it in," i was told.

now, you might think i'm making too much of this, but coffee is a very personal thing - a customer should have the opportunity to make it to his or her liking without passing their cup back over the counter with her lip prints all over it so someone can squirt in it. 

and i do realize that some folks like 20 packs of sweetner and half a cup of cream and that there has to be SOME portion control, which is why  i thought they didn't put cartons of half and half on the counters instead of those little sealed mini-ramikins, you know?

i didn't take my coffee cup back in...i drank it as it was, and didn't enjoy it, but wasn't about to waste it.  and now i know where NOT to take a coffee break.

i'm going to burger king, where i can still make it MY way.  :-)

i'm done ranting now.

every now and then, i win one

My, this weekend has been a busy one.  On Friday, my grandson, Josh came to spend the weekend - that was BIGNESS, because it almost didn't happen for reasons I won't go into here - let's just say I won one..  I haven't seen him since...the summer, I think, and that was just too long to go without seeing my first-born grandkid.

As we were traveling to Durham and I was belting out tunes with 96.5 - The Drive - he asked me, How come you know all these songs? and then he said - Oh, because you're o..
and that is when i learned that this 8 year old child had learned not to tell women they are OLD.  He stopped himself just in time, gave me a sheepish grin and said - you sure do sing well!

Little charmer...

And so, we spent some time learning about each other all over again.  His favorite cookie?  Duhhhh, grandma - chocolate chip.  Favorite drink in the world is Sprite, favorite things to do - play video games and read, read read.  As a matter of fact, he left his copy of Harry Potter here for me to read so that next time he's here (which will be SOON), we can discuss it.

And waiting in Durham for us was his sister, Sara Pie, (my nickname for her, but she will quickly tell you - No, I'm SARA.  There is no pie involved).  She's 4 years old, and has attitude.  And she's quite bossy. 

So..the last two days have been great.

I MIGHT be absent for a while around J-land because..I still have to finish my Christmas shopping, do my baking, prepare for company on the 24th and sometime in the midst of all that, find time to clean the house.  I've decided to take a vacation day on the Friday before Xmas to do the baking....anyway - y'all take care, and I'll type at you soon.

Hugs.

A Parade of Poinsettias

I haven't mentioned much about my workplace since March, when I went back to the hospital after having worked in the medium custody prison for two years.  That's mainly because it's a bit boring in comparison, but that isn't always a bad thing.

The prison hospital was originally a tuberculosis sanitorium, built in the 1920s on the highest point in the county.  It sits across the road from the railroad tracks.  Earlier in the 20th century when people traveled more by rail around here, the passengers would cover their faces with handkerchiefs so they wouldn't inhale the germs, and that particular spot on the Aberdeen-Rockfish route became known as pestilence hill.

It's a beautiful old building, built of bricks.  On one floor where the solarium once was, sunlight fills the hallway.  I've always thought palms would be pretty, lining that area, with all that natural light flooding in.  On the third floor, there is a balcony where the TB patients were wheeled to get fresh air and sunshine.  And there is a chapel where the pews and pulpit were built with cherry wood.  Striking. 

There are three elevators - and underneath the paint is brass.  I'm not sure who decided to cover up the shine - probably someone who saw no sense in the labor polishing would require. 

So different now. The third floor houses dialysis and infectious disease clinics, and sick call, the doctors offices, pharmacy, dental, central supply and the medical library.  The second floor is for housing - one area for acute care and hospice, another is for geriatrics, and further down, where the solarium was, is where the workers are housed.

I work on the first floor, near the control center and switchboard, my desk beside a large window that has a wonderful view of what lies beyond the razor wire, and I have often thought it was a mistake to put me there.  My window has seen a lot of use.

What does all this have to do with poinsettias, you ask? 

Well, the inside of the prison has grown drab over the years.  It is a prison, after all.  The paint is made of the cheapest materials by inmates.  In places, the plaster walls are bubbling where water has managed to seep in.  Drab. Pale. Gray.  A little depressing.  BUT -

Outside of the gates is a different part of the prison called the Long Building.  It's where the rehab program is housed, and it's there that the inmates learn crafts.  It's where the greenhouses and the gardens are.  Today, rehab hosted a sale, complete with refreshments.  Poinsettias were two dollars each.  Crafts were a bit less, except the stools, which were five dollars. 

By 10:00, the Long Building was packed with the Ladies of McCain, all of us pulling dollars out of our pockets, picking up little foot stools, inspecting the flowers, munching date nut balls, standing in line to pay.

I bought two poinsettias, paid my bill, and finally made my way back out. 

What a sight!

All down the sidewalk in bright sunlight, dark red and deep green bobbed up and down as twenty other ladies carried their flowers back to the office. It was an arresting moment (no pun intended), and something inside me stood very still and did not breathe for a magical instant, watching all that vivid color moving outside such a gray place.  The assistant superintendent was coming up the steps, and he saw the same thing I did, but he named it.

What's this?  he said. A parade of poinsettias?

Exactly.

 

Tales from the holiday trail and other ramblings.

It is rare occasion that I shop, really shop.  When I go into a store, I usually know exactly what I want, load it in a cart and zip to the nearest check-out line, preferably the one with less than 40 people and a checker who does not look as though she resents being there.  I like to keep those experiences positive, and usually do..  Saturday afternoon, I bit the bullet and headed out to the store-with-more to do some Christmas shopping.

It was a mad house - not because of the other customers, but because all items had been shifted around to make the most desirable and expensive gift items more prominent.  The electric outdoor smoker i had decided to buy was no longer on the shelf where it was last seen, for example, but had been moved to the patio. Glassware, appliances, etc were moved.  The paper aisle no longer housed paper and binders - I was completely disoriented!!

And so we milled.  We found a boxed set of hot sauce called Hell Fire that appealed to my sense of humor.  We found - Lord Help Me - limited edition hershey kisses in peppermint and cherry cordial.  We found a TV-DVD player combo for only 149 bucks!  And even better, we found boxed sets of CSI Miami/New York, and I got all excited and solved my shopping partner's What-To-Get- Mara-For-Christmas dilemma. Just get me Horatio, I told him.

Are there any other CSI fans out there?  Next time you watch Miami, look at Horatio.   He's Captain Kirk in sunshades, complete with attitude and arrogance.  Perfect! Now if he would just twinkle a little bit...

Anyway, the list is down by 6 so far, and after all that grueling cart pushing, we headed to the new Starbucks (s. pines is coming up in the world!) and had a mocha peppermint latte and picked up a little booklet guide on how to order coffee. It isn't as simple as you would think.  But that's another blog.

And so, in about 3 more trips, we should be finished.  And instead of making this a chore, the plan is to go out there, ACT like it's Christmas, smile at people whether they smile back or not, and what the heck - might as well sparkle, while I'm at it.  Be the change you want in the world...

*Side Note:  I picked up a copy of the NY Times at Starbucks, and there was an article on the front page that reached out and pulled my eyes toward it..  Did you know that November was National Write a Novel Month, or something like that?  All these authors get together, write so many thousands of words for the word count, not caring about the content at all.  They just start writing, for the entire month.  Hmmm.  Maybe word count is the way to go.  There's a good possibility of achieving that goal.