Mac says

My days of struggling with Vista are over.  And none too soon.  (See high velocity trajectory of PC through glass window.)

I love this little guy.  (Wouldn’t Mac be a male?)  He’s fast and efficient and knows exactly what I’m telling him to do.  

There will be no comment on the Macbook user who could not figure out how to right click on a Mac for nearly two weeks, however.  (Please note I did figure it out, eventually.)

And the software.  Yum.  I got this totally free software called FreeMind that is stunning in that it maps out your thoughts in outline/bubble form. So it seems as though I make sense…at least on paper.  

(If I had the skills to show you a screenshot, I would.)  Maybe this will do, instead.  

Note that I have all the skills necessary to show you this utterly useless wonder. 

 

The garden is OUT OF CONTROL.

I need to find some stakes today, and get those tomato plants standing up, before they rot.  

The herbs are going wild, too.  

I’ve been spinning my favorite color of green.

 

And knitting a new Clapotis in Noro Silk Garden Lite.  

Quite inadvertently, the stitch markers match the yarn.

I am now a Reiki II practitioner, which is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.  The class was held last weekend — Friday evening, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday.  Reiki is something I can use both at work, and at home.  

Work.  Yeah.  Still the same.  The agency, and more specifically, the hospice, is undergoing multiple management changes all at once, so it’s not an especially peaceful time.  But this too shall pass.

The boyfriend is all moved in.  Things are going well.  We generally get along quite well. Sometimes he reminds me of my grandfather, though.  My grandpa used to yell from the living room, “Helen?  Where are you?” like he was some sort of lost lamb without her sitting next to him. The boyfriend does this, too.  This generally drives me insane, until I remember my grandfather, and then it seems like this is the natural order of things.  So I go with the flow.

In terms of animals, things are much the same.  Harrison P. Cat, Little Man, and That Goddamned Cat (synonyms for the same creature) is fine.  He is involved in the same activities as always.  

We had a couple of visitors a few weeks ago.  Both times we are woken up by soft flapping of leathery wings and the muffled ‘thump’ of body hitting wall, presumably while their radar system failed them.

They were both escorted outside peacefully.  But not before at least one photograph was taken.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Officially sick

No more “officially” sick than I was yesterday, but as of yesterday, I thought maybe I was just being a whiny chucklehead, and was not sick at all.

Mais non, my little ones. I am officially sick with fever and cough and muscle aches, oh my.

SO…

As a way to amuse myself, I made a list of what I’d do if I won the lottery. And I don’t mean what I’d do if a scratch-off paid $400, but what I’d do if I hit the big one.

1. Pay off all bills. This would take a chunk of the winnings, but if we’re talking millions here, then that’s really chump change.
2. Give my kids each a huge nest egg to start post-college life with. 5 million enough?
3. Each of my parents get a chunk. A mil?
4. Ditto my brother.
5. Boyfriend’s family gets their chunks, too. (BF is pretty much family at this point, so we’d be sharing this windfall.)
6. QUIT MY JOB. Experience life without the constant reminder of mortality. Mine or anyone else’s.
7. Buy a house. Hell. Buy two houses. One here and one somewhere warm.
8. Charity. I’d give mega bucks to animal shelters, both kill and no-kill. Maybe I’d start a no-kill shelter?
9. Charity again. Funds to cancer research.
10. Charity again. Funds to HIV research.
11. Charity again. Big funds to the hospice I work for. A certain percentage to the medical and social work staff (ahem…the ones that keep the place on it’s feet…hello?? Remember them??) to be used for more frequent time off to rest and take care of themselves, and perks like facials and massages and routine oil changes and gas, a paid conference out of state every year for each, and stipends every two years for a new vehicle.
12. Charity again. Big funds to the hospice I work for. This time a fund for patients/families who don’t know where the money for a decent burial is going to come from. Funds for airfare for family to come and say goodbye, if that’s what they’d like. Funds to build a resource center directed at healing — not so much physically as in it’s a miracle; you’re cured! — but healing of the soul, both for the dying and those left behind later on. A list of programs for kids. Programs for parents who’ve lost children. I could go on and on. I suppose a bit of research needs to be done to see that services aren’t duplicated anywhere else in the community (Gilda’s Club, etc.), but now I’m getting w-a-a-a-a-y ahead of myself.
13. Invest and save the rest.
14. Cannot stop at 13. That’s bad luck. Open a yarn/bead/fiber shop. Raise sheep and alpaca and those furry little bunnies in the back (acres). Hire someone to do the care of said animals, as I’m afraid my skills in animal husbandry don’t go much beyond keeping a cat alive. (And if you ask the cat, sometimes not even that.)

I managed a little knitting last night. I need something mindless but pretty to carry me through, so yet another a Booga Bag is a good project. At least it’s better than another scarf.

That’s Noro Kureyon, colorway #213.

I have some beads that I might sew onto it after it’s felted. I have to think about that a little bit further, but here’s what I have in mind, plus turquoise chips.

I have some jump rings and pins that are coppery/natural toned, and some turquoise, hematite, those ceramic beads, and some green glass ones, that I have earmarked for stitch markers. Did I ever mention that I loved green? Or turquoise?

Anyway. Stitch markers. That’s my plan. Will let you know how they turn out.

RN, CHPN

I PASSED!

Not only did I pass, I did pretty well. Of course the obsessive in me wants to know the right answers to the 10/150 questions that I missed, so I never miss them again.

Off to knit a bit, then take a nap.

Phew!

Scared

My exam is in less than an hour.

In perspective, I have not tested at this level since my state boards 17 years ago.

I used to get into “the zone” when testing and my brain would relax and just spew out answers.

I hope my brain still works. I know this stuff. I do.

I’m pretty sure.

Happy Heart Day

Posting this quickly before work…

I wanted to find a heart graphic, but everything is copyrighted (as it should be) and so I can’t find something A) quick, and B) not utterly cheesy, to put here as a Valentine greeting to you.

Oh, well.

Thoughts for the day.

1) That Sunday morning show on channel 8 had a sweet segment last week on treasuring your loved ones on Valentine’s Day. Because it might be the last one. Not morbid. No. Reality. I saw a lovely couple yesterday, married for nearly 6 decades, and if she lived through the night, today will absolutely be their last Valentine’s day together. Did they know this last year? No. They did not. I hope they held each other for a second or two longer than usual on this day in 2007. Lesson learned: Treasure what you have.

2) Hummus tastes good. And on mini whole wheat pitas from Wegmans, is only 2 points.

3) Points used yesterday. 29. Target hit. Zing!

4) Sure, strawberry Twizzlers at 5 points sounds like a good deal (I get to eat crap on Weight Watchers???!!!?? Cool!), but they do nothing to sustain me until the next meal. Whole wheat pitas and that hummus, however, are amazing. No hunger. Same with salad.

5) I woke up before the alarm this morning and did not drag my sorry ass across the floor. Coincidence?

6) Even though I was up early, I have dicked around sufficiently so that I now have to race like a rat on a wheel to get to work on time, just like always.

Remember. Hug who you love.

Where was I?

Where was I…where was my head…my ears…why don’t I remember any of these folks? (Turn your speakers on.) I missed each of their deaths. I should have noticed something. Felt a twinge of remorse or sorrow. Something. 50 of them. And these are just the ones Will Yurman documented with his photographs. There were others. Family voices tell the stories of each of these people as the pictures are displayed in a slideshow fashion. Suffice it to say, it is heartbreaking. 50 sons, daughters, cousins, dads, and moms, all murdered in Rochester in 2007, and I don’t remember hearing about even one of them. I feel ashamed.

An exhibit of Yurman’s work involving these 50 families is at the George Eastman House through March 2.

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Oh, Brother, where art thou? Because I started your scarf and I want you to see. Please don’t be alarmed by that chartreuse color. It will blend.

Sometimes it adds up to too much, y’know?

Warning. No cute cat pictures tonight.

No knitting pictures, either.

All I have to offer is this.

Sometimes I have to let them go, and I don’t know how.

Of course I blame my employer. Who else but a modern health care organization would expect 8-12 hour days, twelve of them in a row, devoted to death and dying, without so much as an acknowledgment of the human suffering just witnessed?

In the normal course of human existence, death is dealt with on occasion. But unless you are living in a war zone, or during a famine or other natural disaster, it’s not something to deal with every day.

Hospice work is a choice I make every day, however. So I really have no business blaming anyone, do I?

But I am human. And one death after another after another, sometimes two and three a day, is too much for even the most hardened of souls. These are people whose lives I’ve had a glimpse of, and who have sometimes whispered to me the fear they don’t dare share with anyone else. Many times they astound me with their strength and, well, I wish I had a nickel for every time one of them had me collapsed in giggles. Not everything is about hanging crepe, you see.

If I think I will not see one of them again as a living person, and if the family is okay with it, I will kiss them softly on their head and say goodbye. It’s funny, but I never feel like I’m saying goodbye forever. Just for a little while.

I wish I could tell you the stories of my patients, and their families. But you understand I can’t.

I hope they’re all in a good place now, whatever “a good place” means to them. Whether it’s reunited with long lost family and friends, or free from pain, or being able to walk again…whatever trite idealization comes to my mind…hell…I hope they’re there.

I wish them well, and thank each and every one of them for drifting in and out of my life. Those kisses, and hugs, the old Air Force guy with the ‘thumbs up’ sign, all of them, touch me more deeply than they will ever know.

Sometimes I have to let them go.

I just wish I knew how.