I was saving this ad from Nutri-System that I got in a Valu-Pak coupon mailer I received. I wanted to scan in the ad and then talk about it here because the picture on it was so funny. The brunette chick was in a green bikini (clearly trying to cause confusion with the Jenny Craig/Valerie aqua bikini) and she was sort of laying down almost, propped on her elbows. They, of course, show this "unflattering" BEFORE picture of her basically PUSHING OUT her stomach and she is wearing a tank top that is a tad small. Frankly, she wasn't to heiffery to begin with. Moving along...
I noticed that anyone in that position looks pretty good. Gravity is pulling all that yummy flabby stuff elsewhere and the boobs still have cleavage. I need to incorporate this no gravity position into my life some more. I don't think I'd look all Gabrielle Reece in that position but it certainly would be more flattering than some other negative gravity situations (standing up, sitting down, breathing, etc.) On the other hand, how could I incorporate that position into a networking event? Ah, that is neither here nor there.
Having said that, the chick looked uncomfortable and honestly, I think she looked the same as her BEFORE picture because who looks good with their stomach all bulged out and wearing a tank that is 12 sizes too small. Before and After shots should be in the same position with the same clothes.
Anyway, all this blabbing brings me to this. I was saving the damn ad to share here on my great blog and tonight I was shoving a Skinny Cow Mint Ice Cream Sandwich in my fat face (because I had WW points to spare) and absent-mindedly put it down on anti-gravity, Nutri-System model so I could try Julio's yummy (low cal) mango sorbet. Now Pseudo-Valerie has Skinny Cow Chocolate Sandwich all over her and can't be scanned.
This is why I won't be a successful blogger, or a successful dieter for that matter.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I Can Work
Yes, the plague has made another appearance. Yesterday, I was sick. I worked as much as I could handle but I am totally sick again. My life in a petri dish continues. Yesterday, I actually drove all the way to my Daddy's office and asked him to cure me. He drew blood, made me pee in a cup (MUCH easier when you aren't pregnant! WOW! Who knew?), and gave me Zithromax. Oh, Zmax. You and me, we've become such good friends. Zmax, the wonderful folks at the local CVS, and me - Peas in a Pod.
Like an IDIOT, I went to EB yesterday trying to pretend I wasn't sick. Trying to pretend that EB would make me stronger. I would sweat that virus/bacteria right out. I even (while driving) told myself that meningitis-like headache was only because I was sleepy. I convinced myself that the body aches were from doing various animal crawls on Friday. All crap - the things that fat will motivate me to do. I came home and felt like dying...again. WHEN WILL THIS STOP? I am fanatical with my Purell and my hand washing. I hold my breath for unusual lengths of time to get around a fresh cough from a sickie kid who hasn't yet learned to cover his/her mouth. WHY O WHY THE PLAGUE? And I didn't even get to puke this time, so no significant weight loss is in store for me. Sigh.
Today, I am working. The body aches are less achy. The headache has toned down to be less awful. I am so behind in work it's not even funny. J is giving me the "why aren't you billing" look? I am giving him the "why don't you drive back and forth to the pharmacy, the pediatrician, mail, bank, networking, dealing with nonsense" look. It has been special here. Fun times. April has passed in a POOF. POOF gone. April. Bu bye. I have to send out my sad bills in a few days and I will have to come to grips with my shitty billable hours.
Meanwhile, at least I have the freedom to have shitty billable hours and not get laid off. I have the ability to put my family first for a month while the shit hits the fan. That is sort of nice. Most of my friends at big firms got pay cuts this month. Yes, to some seething folks out there, it is not really sad when someone makes 225k instead of 250k a year. And yes, it's not horrible. But, it still sucks. Lawyers have loans too, lawyers have mortgages too, lawyers have kids and commitments. They make commitments thinking they have X salary and then when they have X-10% it may suck. Also, one of my friends got laid off - top 5% of our class, top guy, top firm. Laid off.
Oh, I am so glad that I got laid off years ago and I made this decision to start this practice. It put me here now. I can be the master of my own paycheck. The only person I disappoint is my husband, J, but technically I am his boss ;) I am managing partner, I am hiring partner. So if he doesn't like it he can complain to his boss, ME, and I can tell him where to shove it. Yeah, right? No, but seriously, it is good to be here now. Sick for most of the month with shitty billables and not biting my nails because I could be laid off.
Instead, I can bite my nails about being sick and pediatricians and my Mom and my Aunt and EB and other things but NOT being laid off. I can work. Lucky me. Seriously.
Like an IDIOT, I went to EB yesterday trying to pretend I wasn't sick. Trying to pretend that EB would make me stronger. I would sweat that virus/bacteria right out. I even (while driving) told myself that meningitis-like headache was only because I was sleepy. I convinced myself that the body aches were from doing various animal crawls on Friday. All crap - the things that fat will motivate me to do. I came home and felt like dying...again. WHEN WILL THIS STOP? I am fanatical with my Purell and my hand washing. I hold my breath for unusual lengths of time to get around a fresh cough from a sickie kid who hasn't yet learned to cover his/her mouth. WHY O WHY THE PLAGUE? And I didn't even get to puke this time, so no significant weight loss is in store for me. Sigh.
Today, I am working. The body aches are less achy. The headache has toned down to be less awful. I am so behind in work it's not even funny. J is giving me the "why aren't you billing" look? I am giving him the "why don't you drive back and forth to the pharmacy, the pediatrician, mail, bank, networking, dealing with nonsense" look. It has been special here. Fun times. April has passed in a POOF. POOF gone. April. Bu bye. I have to send out my sad bills in a few days and I will have to come to grips with my shitty billable hours.
Meanwhile, at least I have the freedom to have shitty billable hours and not get laid off. I have the ability to put my family first for a month while the shit hits the fan. That is sort of nice. Most of my friends at big firms got pay cuts this month. Yes, to some seething folks out there, it is not really sad when someone makes 225k instead of 250k a year. And yes, it's not horrible. But, it still sucks. Lawyers have loans too, lawyers have mortgages too, lawyers have kids and commitments. They make commitments thinking they have X salary and then when they have X-10% it may suck. Also, one of my friends got laid off - top 5% of our class, top guy, top firm. Laid off.
Oh, I am so glad that I got laid off years ago and I made this decision to start this practice. It put me here now. I can be the master of my own paycheck. The only person I disappoint is my husband, J, but technically I am his boss ;) I am managing partner, I am hiring partner. So if he doesn't like it he can complain to his boss, ME, and I can tell him where to shove it. Yeah, right? No, but seriously, it is good to be here now. Sick for most of the month with shitty billables and not biting my nails because I could be laid off.
Instead, I can bite my nails about being sick and pediatricians and my Mom and my Aunt and EB and other things but NOT being laid off. I can work. Lucky me. Seriously.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thank you, God.
On Thanksgiving Day 2006, a little less than 2 months after my son Lulo was born, we were driving home from my parents' house to our house around 8 p.m. I had Lulo in one car, he was sleeping. J was driving a few cars ahead of me. I could no longer really spot his car but I knew he was ahead of me.
As is common in California, the traffic slowed and there were sudden red break lights. Immediately, I said to myself. "Oh, please God don't let that be Julio in an accident."
Five seconds later, I saw his car smashed against the center divider of the freeway. Cars avoiding his. Cars crashed around him.
I started to pull over to the right shoulder. Gasping for air. Grabbing my phone, I called him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voice mail. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. J says, "Hello? I can't find my glasses." He was fine.
Those 60 seconds were the worse, slowest most horrible in my whole life. Until, this Monday.
On Monday, I was working. It was 2:45 and my phone rang. It was my Dad. He sounded not good. His words were catching on his heart. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. My thoughts shot to my aunt in the hospital.
I said, "what's wrong?"
He said, "They just called me from an ambulance. Your Mom has been in accident. I don't know anything. I am leaving the hospital now and going to the hospital they are taking her to."
I sat. Frozen. Do I go? Do I stay? What is happening? I sobbed.
What was I staying for? I would need to be there no matter what. Even if she was fine. Even if it was a fender bender. IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN A FENDER BENDER. SHE IS IN AN AMBULANCE. SHE ISN'T TALKING TO MY DAD. THE PARAMEDICS ARE TALKING TO MY DAD.
Oh, I still have chills. My hair is still up.
I called my brother. Sobbing. We get off the phone. I call him back and tell him I am heading down. Neither of us can even think. We are irrational. We both leave work. We both go straight there.
The fear. That drive. Waiting for my Dad to call me and tell me everything was fine. NOTHING. NOTHING. The phone wouldn't ring. My brother and I talked the whole way. We are in shock. Horrified. So scared. I cry on and off. Wanting to speed but trying not to. I am sick still with that feeling of "if anything happened to her, I will die." He got there first. I made him promise to call me in 10 minutes. But 11 minutes pass. 12 minutes pass.
He calls to tell me that he has seen her. She looks terrible. Disoriented. Nothing broken. They are taking her in for a CAT Scan. He hasn't seen my Dad yet.
I get there and see my Dad first. He looks awful. But he tells me she is fine. He is in shock. So scared. Never seen him so scared. Vitals are good. Xrays show no broken bones. She is just scared and banged up, really banged up. Waiting for CAT Scan. Nothing there. Thank God.
Car is dead. She isn't. I love my Mom. I am so glad she is just bruised and hurting everywhere. There are still tears. So many. When I even think for one moment that she maybe wouldn't be here right now. That she maybe was not going to be able to kiss Lulo who adores her and asks about her every day...I cry all over again.
Thank you God for my Mama. My awesome mother, a special grandmother. That hour was the most excruciating wait I have ever had. It was worth every damn second for my beautiful mother still here, in one piece, ok. Thank you, God.
As is common in California, the traffic slowed and there were sudden red break lights. Immediately, I said to myself. "Oh, please God don't let that be Julio in an accident."
Five seconds later, I saw his car smashed against the center divider of the freeway. Cars avoiding his. Cars crashed around him.
I started to pull over to the right shoulder. Gasping for air. Grabbing my phone, I called him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voice mail. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. J says, "Hello? I can't find my glasses." He was fine.
Those 60 seconds were the worse, slowest most horrible in my whole life. Until, this Monday.
On Monday, I was working. It was 2:45 and my phone rang. It was my Dad. He sounded not good. His words were catching on his heart. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. My thoughts shot to my aunt in the hospital.
I said, "what's wrong?"
He said, "They just called me from an ambulance. Your Mom has been in accident. I don't know anything. I am leaving the hospital now and going to the hospital they are taking her to."
I sat. Frozen. Do I go? Do I stay? What is happening? I sobbed.
What was I staying for? I would need to be there no matter what. Even if she was fine. Even if it was a fender bender. IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN A FENDER BENDER. SHE IS IN AN AMBULANCE. SHE ISN'T TALKING TO MY DAD. THE PARAMEDICS ARE TALKING TO MY DAD.
Oh, I still have chills. My hair is still up.
I called my brother. Sobbing. We get off the phone. I call him back and tell him I am heading down. Neither of us can even think. We are irrational. We both leave work. We both go straight there.
The fear. That drive. Waiting for my Dad to call me and tell me everything was fine. NOTHING. NOTHING. The phone wouldn't ring. My brother and I talked the whole way. We are in shock. Horrified. So scared. I cry on and off. Wanting to speed but trying not to. I am sick still with that feeling of "if anything happened to her, I will die." He got there first. I made him promise to call me in 10 minutes. But 11 minutes pass. 12 minutes pass.
He calls to tell me that he has seen her. She looks terrible. Disoriented. Nothing broken. They are taking her in for a CAT Scan. He hasn't seen my Dad yet.
I get there and see my Dad first. He looks awful. But he tells me she is fine. He is in shock. So scared. Never seen him so scared. Vitals are good. Xrays show no broken bones. She is just scared and banged up, really banged up. Waiting for CAT Scan. Nothing there. Thank God.
Car is dead. She isn't. I love my Mom. I am so glad she is just bruised and hurting everywhere. There are still tears. So many. When I even think for one moment that she maybe wouldn't be here right now. That she maybe was not going to be able to kiss Lulo who adores her and asks about her every day...I cry all over again.
Thank you God for my Mama. My awesome mother, a special grandmother. That hour was the most excruciating wait I have ever had. It was worth every damn second for my beautiful mother still here, in one piece, ok. Thank you, God.
You can take that Vaporizer and Stick it in Your...
My Jojo had been progressively getting sicker and sicker since last Thursday. He had this watery eye thing happening that I dismissed as allergies or maybe he was catching Lulo's special pinkeye from last week. He had a runny nose, that I dismissed as allergies. The sniffles in this house are NO BIG DEAL. It's like a poopy diaper. It happens. He has had the sniffles on and off for a month. Dr. Sears says that means the kid probably has allergies. OK.
Anyhow, no fever, no panic here.
I'd like to say this kind of attitude comes from having three kids and being a well worn Mom. That is a crock. I totally worry the whole time. The reason I have this attitude is because I would rather get dental work done than go to the damn pediatrician's office. It is not because I do not like the kids' pediatricians. In fact, I REALLY like them. But they are in a practice so on a sick visit you typically end up seeing one of the other winners at the practice. OK, that is fine. They can likely quickly diagnose a runny nose. However, all I have heard now for the better part of 3 years is something along the lines of:
"Oh, if they don't have a fever it is not recommended to give them any kind of antihistamine. You should use a vaporizer and come back in a week to ten days if you don't see improvement."
So, I pay a co-pay and wait in their petri dish of a waiting room for upwards of an hour to get a prescription of a VAPORIZER.
And this is what I have to say about that: FUCK THAT! So effing tired of the VAPORIZER I want to effing scream. I want to pummel. I want to rant and rave. I HAVE USED THE VAPORIZER EVERY SINGLE TIME ONE OF MY KIDS WAS SICK. And you know what? It doesn't do shit or shinola. It makes my walls wet. Yep. That's it. And the only reason I use it is so I can tell the damn docs (with a straight face) that I tried that already.
I have a big problem with doctors and how little they do for sick kids. They don't recommend anything anymore. Saline spray doesn't make my kid feel better. I squirt, I suck, they cry. Nothing.
You know what makes kids feel better: MEDICINE. I am all for the old school docs like my Dad who prescribe some heavy stuff to kids so that they'll feel better. I am all for the days of prescribing antibiotics a bit more freely so that if IT IS INDEED BACTERIAL the kid will get better. Let's not let the kids be really sick for 2 weeks thinking it MIGHT BE VIRAL. My Dad would give us antibiotics like it was water. I am fine. I can take TONS OF THEM and still feel better. I haven't built up any kind of resistance to them. And you know what, I know about the super powers of these mutant bacteria. I am not saying drug the kids up every five minutes...BUT I WANT SOLUTIONS fast. If I have one sick kid, I usually have 3. Fix it. Make it normal again.
Don't make me go on the internet and find the proper dosage of Benadryl. Just tell me DOCTORS. I won't sue you if my kid felt better. Damn. I know they won't get better any faster BUT THEY FEEL BETTER. LESS AWFUL. Don't adults take something when they feel poopy even though they don't get better any faster? Yes, I get that there are some special people in the world who say things like "if one teaspoon works, then 3 will work better" or "maybe a little bit of this will knock you out for a few hours so I can go clubbing". Yeah, that's not ME!
And this brings me to my next point, I love my Daddy. For some stupid reason, I resist asking my Daddy for medical stuff for my kids because he is so old school, but any time he has advised me, he has been right, my kids haven't died, and they have felt better within 24 hours. The last time Lulo was sick, I skipped going to the Vaporizer Stockholders Committee and asked my Dad what he should take. My Dad had seen Lulo the day before. Lulo was better in 24 hours.
When I went to the substitute pediatrician yesterday, I was giving her the history of Jujo's ailment and she interrupted to go do something else AFTER HAVING ALREADY WAITED ONE HOUR IN THE WAITING ROOM with my kid who had a 101.9 temp. Then, she ignored what I said.
Then, she didn't have her ear wax scraper which she looked for for FIVE MINUTES while I am sitting and calming a WAILING Jojo because she had peered in his ear already and determined she didn't have her ear wax scraper thingie handy.
So, as she walks in the room with a scraper I overhear her telling the nurse:
"I don't like this kind. I am not comfortable using it." She approaches my kid.
I say: "If you aren't comfortable using that, then don't stick in my kid's ear."
She says: "You seem perturbed."
Yes, I am perturbed. CAN WE MOVE ON HERE?
Anyhow, his throat is totally infected. But she prescribes him antibiotics NOT FOR THE THROAT but the potential sinus infection. The throat, she believes, is viral. She says it may linger a few days and to use a VAPORIZER and make an appointment if his fever is not down by Saturday.
Jojo felt better 3 hours after he took the antibiotic. Today, he was his old self. God bless old school antibiotics.
Anyhow, no fever, no panic here.
I'd like to say this kind of attitude comes from having three kids and being a well worn Mom. That is a crock. I totally worry the whole time. The reason I have this attitude is because I would rather get dental work done than go to the damn pediatrician's office. It is not because I do not like the kids' pediatricians. In fact, I REALLY like them. But they are in a practice so on a sick visit you typically end up seeing one of the other winners at the practice. OK, that is fine. They can likely quickly diagnose a runny nose. However, all I have heard now for the better part of 3 years is something along the lines of:
"Oh, if they don't have a fever it is not recommended to give them any kind of antihistamine. You should use a vaporizer and come back in a week to ten days if you don't see improvement."
So, I pay a co-pay and wait in their petri dish of a waiting room for upwards of an hour to get a prescription of a VAPORIZER.
And this is what I have to say about that: FUCK THAT! So effing tired of the VAPORIZER I want to effing scream. I want to pummel. I want to rant and rave. I HAVE USED THE VAPORIZER EVERY SINGLE TIME ONE OF MY KIDS WAS SICK. And you know what? It doesn't do shit or shinola. It makes my walls wet. Yep. That's it. And the only reason I use it is so I can tell the damn docs (with a straight face) that I tried that already.
I have a big problem with doctors and how little they do for sick kids. They don't recommend anything anymore. Saline spray doesn't make my kid feel better. I squirt, I suck, they cry. Nothing.
You know what makes kids feel better: MEDICINE. I am all for the old school docs like my Dad who prescribe some heavy stuff to kids so that they'll feel better. I am all for the days of prescribing antibiotics a bit more freely so that if IT IS INDEED BACTERIAL the kid will get better. Let's not let the kids be really sick for 2 weeks thinking it MIGHT BE VIRAL. My Dad would give us antibiotics like it was water. I am fine. I can take TONS OF THEM and still feel better. I haven't built up any kind of resistance to them. And you know what, I know about the super powers of these mutant bacteria. I am not saying drug the kids up every five minutes...BUT I WANT SOLUTIONS fast. If I have one sick kid, I usually have 3. Fix it. Make it normal again.
Don't make me go on the internet and find the proper dosage of Benadryl. Just tell me DOCTORS. I won't sue you if my kid felt better. Damn. I know they won't get better any faster BUT THEY FEEL BETTER. LESS AWFUL. Don't adults take something when they feel poopy even though they don't get better any faster? Yes, I get that there are some special people in the world who say things like "if one teaspoon works, then 3 will work better" or "maybe a little bit of this will knock you out for a few hours so I can go clubbing". Yeah, that's not ME!
And this brings me to my next point, I love my Daddy. For some stupid reason, I resist asking my Daddy for medical stuff for my kids because he is so old school, but any time he has advised me, he has been right, my kids haven't died, and they have felt better within 24 hours. The last time Lulo was sick, I skipped going to the Vaporizer Stockholders Committee and asked my Dad what he should take. My Dad had seen Lulo the day before. Lulo was better in 24 hours.
When I went to the substitute pediatrician yesterday, I was giving her the history of Jujo's ailment and she interrupted to go do something else AFTER HAVING ALREADY WAITED ONE HOUR IN THE WAITING ROOM with my kid who had a 101.9 temp. Then, she ignored what I said.
Then, she didn't have her ear wax scraper which she looked for for FIVE MINUTES while I am sitting and calming a WAILING Jojo because she had peered in his ear already and determined she didn't have her ear wax scraper thingie handy.
So, as she walks in the room with a scraper I overhear her telling the nurse:
"I don't like this kind. I am not comfortable using it." She approaches my kid.
I say: "If you aren't comfortable using that, then don't stick in my kid's ear."
She says: "You seem perturbed."
Yes, I am perturbed. CAN WE MOVE ON HERE?
Anyhow, his throat is totally infected. But she prescribes him antibiotics NOT FOR THE THROAT but the potential sinus infection. The throat, she believes, is viral. She says it may linger a few days and to use a VAPORIZER and make an appointment if his fever is not down by Saturday.
Jojo felt better 3 hours after he took the antibiotic. Today, he was his old self. God bless old school antibiotics.
Pants You Don't Care About
Yesterday at EB, DI-Size0 told us to wear pants we didn't spend a lot of money on to class on Friday. OK. That sounds good because I typically wear my satin Donna Karan's. Anyhow, I showed up today in the sweats that I wore when we painted our last townhouse. I wear them usually when I am sick or have no intention of leaving the house. Frankly, I was intrigued. What could they possibly do that required pants we didn't care about?
So, after the intro of calisthenics and some stretching, DI-Size0 and her bf, DI-MC, jogged us out to a soccer field (or was it a football field?) and told us to get on the floor. The grass was ALL damp. They made us do so many things on the wet grass and touching the wet grass. I distinctly remember the smell of dog pee. I had many pieces of grass and dirt and mud on me. It was ewey.
Bleck.
I just don't like being dirty. Every day after a NORMAL class I pull out a container of baby wipes and wipe my dirty hands. It would have taken a truck full of wipes to assist me today. I was dirty dirty. My clothes were all wet (and not because of the sweet sweat that typically happens).
We did many horrible things today on the wet wet grass. Inchworms. Alligator crawls. Bear crawls. Crab crawls. Push ups, crunches. Ew. I still feel itchy thinking about it.
Ew.
This EB was not for the faint of heart. It was not for the ones with an inner Howard Hughes.
I assure you, the next time DI-Size0 tells us to wear our shitty pants. I will wear them and sleep until 6:30 in my dry, comfy, warm bed.
That's just a wrong kind of dirty.
So, after the intro of calisthenics and some stretching, DI-Size0 and her bf, DI-MC, jogged us out to a soccer field (or was it a football field?) and told us to get on the floor. The grass was ALL damp. They made us do so many things on the wet grass and touching the wet grass. I distinctly remember the smell of dog pee. I had many pieces of grass and dirt and mud on me. It was ewey.
Bleck.
I just don't like being dirty. Every day after a NORMAL class I pull out a container of baby wipes and wipe my dirty hands. It would have taken a truck full of wipes to assist me today. I was dirty dirty. My clothes were all wet (and not because of the sweet sweat that typically happens).
We did many horrible things today on the wet wet grass. Inchworms. Alligator crawls. Bear crawls. Crab crawls. Push ups, crunches. Ew. I still feel itchy thinking about it.
Ew.
This EB was not for the faint of heart. It was not for the ones with an inner Howard Hughes.
I assure you, the next time DI-Size0 tells us to wear our shitty pants. I will wear them and sleep until 6:30 in my dry, comfy, warm bed.
That's just a wrong kind of dirty.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Today's Sacrifices
My dear Aunt had her kidney removed yesterday. She's been in and out of the hospital for a couple months now and they've been trying to figure out what's up. She has lupus and has been dealing with that for years. But yesterday, after a week or so of them putzing around and trying to figure out whether they needed to take out the kidney, they took it out.
Today she is fine, or I guess as fine as you can be after your kidney is removed. My Mom says she has her color back and she's feeling a lot better. She actually just wants to eat something or have a sip of water but they aren't letting her. I guess this just hit home for me today because today, our Good Friday, I wasn't eating or drinking anything as a sacrifice symbolically mirroring Christ's sacrifice for us many years ago on the cross. Of course, I knew I was going to pig out at the end of the day but today was a long day. And, honestly for me not eating or drinking after EB was a pretty big strenuous. But, it's no cross. So, it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme. It's also no big deal compared to what my Aunt is going through right now.
But, as I was eating, the typical "YUM this is so good" ravenous binge seemed to be overshadowed by - here I am pigging out and my aunt is in the hospital and they aren't letting her eat or have a sip of water. She lost her kidney. She's in a bed hooked up to IVs and dealing with hospital nonsense. It just sort of makes me sad, breaks my heart.
My family has a picnic every year (more or less) for Easter. These picnics are some of my fondest childhood memories. We had the best time. We always had been fasting and then on Easter we could eat eggs again (usually resulting in a very unfortunate experience with the runs). I learned after spending too many Easters on a beachside restroom's dirty toilet that consuming more than 1 egg was NOT a good idea. My Mom always goes nuts on Easter. So much delicious, traditional Greek food. The Easter picnic was always a special day - everyone would be there. Family and friends celebrating together. In college, my friends came and would witness the big Greek/Egyptian family first hand. The Easter traditions never have changed or wavered - fasting for 40 days (or hmmm...2 weeks), church the night before at 10 pm, Christos Anesti, keeping the candle lit on the car ride home, getting home, having a light dinner (mayeiritsa, cheese, bread, tsourekia) as a family (1/2 asleep), a breaking eggs contest. I love Easter.
My Aunt always comes. Her daughter would come. Then when her daughter had a baby and got married, her family would be there. My Aunt always makes this amazing chocolate cake with powdered sugar on top. I love me some of that cake. This year that cake won't be there and neither will she. It won't be the same. I think we'll all be thinking of her.
I think that this year won't be the bash it always is because my Aunt is a special lady who brings a lot without being obnoxious or overbearing. I have always loved and respected her because she worked so hard despite her illness. She is a class act that overcame a divorce from someone I consider to be an a-hole (shortly after being diagnosed). She really doesn't whine or moan. She is sweet and loving. I can tell she worries about her work, her daughter and grandson, her lupus, her life. But she gives so much. So, today, I prayed for her and her quick recovery. I ate with guilt instead of the usual gusto I put into the breaking the fast meal. I just hope she's ok and comes out of this with her light personality and wonderful laugh intact.
Hospitals can be lonely and I bet she is thinking a lot about how she wishes she wasn't there. I guess as much as I am praying for her quick recovery I am also praying that she is distracted by family, friends, the TV, good memories...anything. I want her spirits to be high so she can swiftly be back with us - bringing chocolate cake, laughing heartily, sharing stories, chatting with my Mom in the kitchen, holding one of my boys, getting teased by my Dad, eating her favorite dish that my Mom makes.
I know we all have prayers and we all have people in our lives we pray for. Some of us may even pray for silly things like, oh, that all the food they ate and extra WW points they consumed wouldn't actually "count" and result in a wide ass. I wouldn't do that, never. But, a little prayer for my Aunt today would mean a lot to me.
And though many of you celebrated Easter last weekend, Happy Easter. May you find reasons to celebrate this weekend because we are here and able to celebrate because of Someone's sacrifices.
Today she is fine, or I guess as fine as you can be after your kidney is removed. My Mom says she has her color back and she's feeling a lot better. She actually just wants to eat something or have a sip of water but they aren't letting her. I guess this just hit home for me today because today, our Good Friday, I wasn't eating or drinking anything as a sacrifice symbolically mirroring Christ's sacrifice for us many years ago on the cross. Of course, I knew I was going to pig out at the end of the day but today was a long day. And, honestly for me not eating or drinking after EB was a pretty big strenuous. But, it's no cross. So, it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme. It's also no big deal compared to what my Aunt is going through right now.
But, as I was eating, the typical "YUM this is so good" ravenous binge seemed to be overshadowed by - here I am pigging out and my aunt is in the hospital and they aren't letting her eat or have a sip of water. She lost her kidney. She's in a bed hooked up to IVs and dealing with hospital nonsense. It just sort of makes me sad, breaks my heart.
My family has a picnic every year (more or less) for Easter. These picnics are some of my fondest childhood memories. We had the best time. We always had been fasting and then on Easter we could eat eggs again (usually resulting in a very unfortunate experience with the runs). I learned after spending too many Easters on a beachside restroom's dirty toilet that consuming more than 1 egg was NOT a good idea. My Mom always goes nuts on Easter. So much delicious, traditional Greek food. The Easter picnic was always a special day - everyone would be there. Family and friends celebrating together. In college, my friends came and would witness the big Greek/Egyptian family first hand. The Easter traditions never have changed or wavered - fasting for 40 days (or hmmm...2 weeks), church the night before at 10 pm, Christos Anesti, keeping the candle lit on the car ride home, getting home, having a light dinner (mayeiritsa, cheese, bread, tsourekia) as a family (1/2 asleep), a breaking eggs contest. I love Easter.
My Aunt always comes. Her daughter would come. Then when her daughter had a baby and got married, her family would be there. My Aunt always makes this amazing chocolate cake with powdered sugar on top. I love me some of that cake. This year that cake won't be there and neither will she. It won't be the same. I think we'll all be thinking of her.
I think that this year won't be the bash it always is because my Aunt is a special lady who brings a lot without being obnoxious or overbearing. I have always loved and respected her because she worked so hard despite her illness. She is a class act that overcame a divorce from someone I consider to be an a-hole (shortly after being diagnosed). She really doesn't whine or moan. She is sweet and loving. I can tell she worries about her work, her daughter and grandson, her lupus, her life. But she gives so much. So, today, I prayed for her and her quick recovery. I ate with guilt instead of the usual gusto I put into the breaking the fast meal. I just hope she's ok and comes out of this with her light personality and wonderful laugh intact.
Hospitals can be lonely and I bet she is thinking a lot about how she wishes she wasn't there. I guess as much as I am praying for her quick recovery I am also praying that she is distracted by family, friends, the TV, good memories...anything. I want her spirits to be high so she can swiftly be back with us - bringing chocolate cake, laughing heartily, sharing stories, chatting with my Mom in the kitchen, holding one of my boys, getting teased by my Dad, eating her favorite dish that my Mom makes.
I know we all have prayers and we all have people in our lives we pray for. Some of us may even pray for silly things like, oh, that all the food they ate and extra WW points they consumed wouldn't actually "count" and result in a wide ass. I wouldn't do that, never. But, a little prayer for my Aunt today would mean a lot to me.
And though many of you celebrated Easter last weekend, Happy Easter. May you find reasons to celebrate this weekend because we are here and able to celebrate because of Someone's sacrifices.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
An Alien.
Before I started my own practice a few years ago, I used to work for a law firm that was located on Sunset Boulevard. I will always think fondly of the partner I worked for. He taught me so much. He took me under his wing. He had a personality larger than life. If I could network like he did, I'd be rad. He could work a room. He could order food. He could seriously order wine and port. I had fun working with him. And even though we had rough times and things could have ended rosier, I will always think back on that time at that firm as a good one. I always wish him well even though I sort of hated when my checks bounced.
It is so funny. I was so crazy to leave that big downtown law firm to follow him to this random office on Sunset in West Hollywood. It was a good crazy, but still, I am sure that some questioned my judgment. Seriously. The office was bad. The light bulb in the bathroom, never worked. I often peed in the dark hoping the seedier element of town wouldn't walk in on me and ask to use the toilet as well. The chairs were old and orange and may have been picked out by Ralph Furley himself. It was a mess. Paper everywhere. I crave cleanliness and organization and I was surrounded by the pit of despair on steroids. The office below us was a gun shop - perfect for our clients to go pick up something special for us after getting our bills.
I did some demeaning tasks that someone who went to law school should have never done (even though I got paid handsomely for it). And no, going through boxes of discovery (a normal associate task) was not one of them. I remember once, sitting in his car, so his phone could charge. I had to SIT in the car, alone, not working, and getting paid, to phone sit? I also did more things that made by blood boil than I could list here. But I had to do stuff like wait until the last minute to do anything because I was at the mercy of someone who was a procrastinator with ADHD. I am NOT a procrastinator. I do things so that I have time to spare and have time to have the shit hit the fan and time to correct it and laugh about it. So, I would sit and wait, drumming my fingers, for his blessing until the very last moment or be working until the very last second- making my blood pressure actually go up incrementally until I turned colors like red and purple. Oh the inefficiency, oh the mess.
I also swore off the Blackberry after my stint there. The blinking red light telling me about emails was maddening and addictive. I'd get up in the middle of the night to read crazy emails about what I needed to do. Though it was great training for having a brood of babies, sleep would have been better. Wow, it seems like a lifetime ago.
On the other hand, the cool thing about working on Sunset was all the amazing restaurants just 5 minutes away (or 15 minutes I guess if you are driving on Sunset). We ate soooo much good food that year. We would go for these crazy long lunches at places like The Standard. We would eat many courses and a drink with each course. We'd go for Indian food or Korean BBQ. Oh, the yumminess.
Today, I met up with a client I had never met before at a restaurant we (a former co-worker and I) used to go to often. It was so strange being there again. West Hollywood is now a weird foreign place to me. I am getting very used to Pomona and it is a sickening, sad thing. In Pomona, no one looks like the people do there. It's pretty simple, pretty mellow. The really crazy stuff is usually on a tattoo. The holes in clothes are not put there by a designer but by wear. On Sunset, people are all accessorized with extra large furry purses, skinny jeans (men and women), hats not caps. So strange. I felt like an alien there. I was so very two years ago's Banana Republic in a sea of yesterday's Next Top Model. I don't remember feeling like an alien before but I don't think I have changed much so I must have been an alien then. But, people were so stylish and fa-la-la. Men with their cool shades. Men not in suits, not working, on a Thursday? Women lunching. People eating outside in the sun on patios. It was odd. Sunset is now an alternate universe. When did Sunset become an alternate universe? Sigh.
I am glad to be home somehow today, even though my home is in Pomona. After sitting in traffic up there, inching up and down Sunset. How did I used to do that commute? How did I sit on Sunset? How did I work for someone else? Bleck. I'll never go back. Being the one in charge of my own destiny, albeit with my husband and partner, is much more liberating than it is constrictive. I love this life. That life, although it was wonderful and so full of learning life's hard lessons, was nothing I'd ever go back to. No regrets, just no wish to return. I like here and now.
It is so funny. I was so crazy to leave that big downtown law firm to follow him to this random office on Sunset in West Hollywood. It was a good crazy, but still, I am sure that some questioned my judgment. Seriously. The office was bad. The light bulb in the bathroom, never worked. I often peed in the dark hoping the seedier element of town wouldn't walk in on me and ask to use the toilet as well. The chairs were old and orange and may have been picked out by Ralph Furley himself. It was a mess. Paper everywhere. I crave cleanliness and organization and I was surrounded by the pit of despair on steroids. The office below us was a gun shop - perfect for our clients to go pick up something special for us after getting our bills.
I did some demeaning tasks that someone who went to law school should have never done (even though I got paid handsomely for it). And no, going through boxes of discovery (a normal associate task) was not one of them. I remember once, sitting in his car, so his phone could charge. I had to SIT in the car, alone, not working, and getting paid, to phone sit? I also did more things that made by blood boil than I could list here. But I had to do stuff like wait until the last minute to do anything because I was at the mercy of someone who was a procrastinator with ADHD. I am NOT a procrastinator. I do things so that I have time to spare and have time to have the shit hit the fan and time to correct it and laugh about it. So, I would sit and wait, drumming my fingers, for his blessing until the very last moment or be working until the very last second- making my blood pressure actually go up incrementally until I turned colors like red and purple. Oh the inefficiency, oh the mess.
I also swore off the Blackberry after my stint there. The blinking red light telling me about emails was maddening and addictive. I'd get up in the middle of the night to read crazy emails about what I needed to do. Though it was great training for having a brood of babies, sleep would have been better. Wow, it seems like a lifetime ago.
On the other hand, the cool thing about working on Sunset was all the amazing restaurants just 5 minutes away (or 15 minutes I guess if you are driving on Sunset). We ate soooo much good food that year. We would go for these crazy long lunches at places like The Standard. We would eat many courses and a drink with each course. We'd go for Indian food or Korean BBQ. Oh, the yumminess.
Today, I met up with a client I had never met before at a restaurant we (a former co-worker and I) used to go to often. It was so strange being there again. West Hollywood is now a weird foreign place to me. I am getting very used to Pomona and it is a sickening, sad thing. In Pomona, no one looks like the people do there. It's pretty simple, pretty mellow. The really crazy stuff is usually on a tattoo. The holes in clothes are not put there by a designer but by wear. On Sunset, people are all accessorized with extra large furry purses, skinny jeans (men and women), hats not caps. So strange. I felt like an alien there. I was so very two years ago's Banana Republic in a sea of yesterday's Next Top Model. I don't remember feeling like an alien before but I don't think I have changed much so I must have been an alien then. But, people were so stylish and fa-la-la. Men with their cool shades. Men not in suits, not working, on a Thursday? Women lunching. People eating outside in the sun on patios. It was odd. Sunset is now an alternate universe. When did Sunset become an alternate universe? Sigh.
I am glad to be home somehow today, even though my home is in Pomona. After sitting in traffic up there, inching up and down Sunset. How did I used to do that commute? How did I sit on Sunset? How did I work for someone else? Bleck. I'll never go back. Being the one in charge of my own destiny, albeit with my husband and partner, is much more liberating than it is constrictive. I love this life. That life, although it was wonderful and so full of learning life's hard lessons, was nothing I'd ever go back to. No regrets, just no wish to return. I like here and now.
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