Shana’s Neighborhood

If you could only drink one beverage for the rest of your life (not including water), which one would you choose?

Is it me or have all of the “questions of the day” started sounding more like market research questions from some mega tween advertising agency and not from actual VOX users? Did VOX make a deal with the devil in order to pay the bills? HMMmmmm.

OK, here goes another liberry rant.

There are signs ALL over the library stating no food or drinks allowed yet every day I see stupid people with drinks and snacks chomping away right next to one of these 50 or so signs. I guess they are all in the library to brush up on their “how to read a sign and follow directions” skills. Anyway, none of them are as bad as the girl that either sits at the table across the isle from me or behind me every day. She eats SO much food while she’s doing her home work that I’ll call her “Chester the Horse” because she sounds like a horse chewing grass behind me; a horse that is eating grass that is wrapped in cellophane packages. I swear it looks like she has a whole friggin 7-Eleven crammed in her bag. I am surprised she isn’t carrying one of those slushy machines on her back so she can get a frosty beverage when the need arises. Every day she eats the same thing too. The list is as follows:

 

1- Apple

1 – Package of cheese crackers

1 – Cookie

1 – Small bag of carrots

1 – Bottle of water - which you would think had a nipple on the end of it because she doesn’t just drink from her bottle, she sucks the water out and makes loud slurping noises while she does it. Every time I get distracted by the slurping and look, I get a dirty look in return like “what I’m just trying to make a vacuum, what’s the problem”.

 

I know it looks like I pay way too much attention to this breaker of the rules but how can I not? She makes so many chomping, crackling, slurping, gurgling, smacking, burping, dripping and sucking noises I can’t believe the rest of the people around me aren’t watching the spectacle as well. She reminds me of a granola version of the orange chicken massacre I saw back at De Anza. They both had the same eating habits accept this one makes a lot more noise and is currently chewing her cud right under a no food or drink sign. Am I the only one who makes these observations? Why am I so fascinated with the quirks of others? Yes, some people irritate me right off the bat but the rest I have to just stop and watch for a bit. Some times I feel like the world is just a big aquarium and I am following the big school of fish in the middle called the general public…..and occasionally tapping on the glass.  

OK, here goes another liberry rant.

There are signs ALL over the library stating no food or drinks allowed yet every day I see stupid people with drinks and snacks chomping away right next to one of these 50 or so signs. I guess they are all in the library to brush up on their “how to read a sign and follow directions” skills. Anyway, none of them are as bad as the girl that sits either sits at the table across the isle from me or behind me every day. She eats SO much food while she’s doing her home work that I’ll call her “Chester the Horse” because she sounds like a horse chewing grass behind me; a horse that is eating grass that is wrapped in cellophane packages. I swear it looks like she has a whole friggin 7-Eleven crammed in her bag. I am surprised she isn’t carrying one of those slushy machines on her back so she can get a frosty beverage when the need arises. Every day she eats the same thing too. The list is as follows:

 

1- Apple

1 – Package of cheese crackers

1 – Cookie

1 – Small bag of carrots

1 – Bottle of water - which you would think had a nipple on the end of it because she doesn’t just drink from her bottle, she sucks the water out and makes loud slurping noises while she does it. Every time I get distracted by the slurping and look, I get a dirty look in return like “what I’m just trying to make a vacuum, what’s the problem”.

 

I know it looks like I pay way too much attention to this breaker of the rules but how can I not? She makes so many chomping, crackling, slurping, gurgling, smacking, burping, dripping and sucking noises I can’t believe the rest of the people around me aren’t watching the spectacle as well. She reminds me of a granola version of the orange chicken massacre I saw back at De Anza. They both had the same eating habits accept this one makes a lot more noise and is currently chewing her cud right under a no food or drink sign. Am I the only one who makes these observations? Why am I so fascinated with the quirks of others? Yes, some people irritate me right off the bat but the rest I have to just stop and watch for a bit. Some times I feel like the world is just a big aquarium and I am following the big school of fish in the middle called the general public…..and occasionally tapping on the glass.  

Once upon a time, after finishing up my B.A. in English and filled with bright visions of writing and creating for a living, I stumbled unaware into a career in the health industry. This twisting, brambled path led me into darkness. Amidst the darkest days of despair and anguish, lost in a forest of regret and self-loathing, I saw a glimmer of light between the trees.

 

Despite finding myself in an industry that I had no desire nor preparation to be a part of, I found a small interest in the raw mechanics of the human body.

 

The blood lab at the hospital would come every morning towards the end of my over-night shifts and draw their labs from patients. I came to know through the process of inputting every medical order what each lab measured and why. Surgeries were prepped for and tests performed, and I became familiar with the GI tract and respiratory system and the endocrine system and their many complications and solutions.

 

Later, at the SNF, I witnessed the devastation of dementia and was intrigued by stage IV wound care and how to teach someone who'd broken a hip or suffered a stroke to walk and eat again. As in the hospital, the corporate part and the AMA and the needless drugs and procedures and medications infuriated and outraged me, but the rest was like taking a great live-action health class.

 

You see, I hated the medical industry for the most part, but by God, I loved the marvels of the human body.

 

After leaving the SNF I started my CMT journey. Since becoming a massage therapist, I've taken additional classes to become certified in more specific areas like Reiki and Pre- and Post- Natal bodywork. The learning never has to end, and I love it.

 

I remember one time talking to my husband about things that interest me for my future career, and how much I've become an enthusiast about childbirth, particularly natural methods. I've read some amazing literature on childbirth in various world cultures and have always loved it. The conversation came and went.

 

This last May, we were on a trip to the coast for the weekend and I again brought up how I think I'd like to think about becoming a childbirth doula. Being a massage therapist is a great foundation. As we talked about it, a little green car changed lanes right in front of us. Across the back windshield was a giant sticker: www.my3doulas.com. Strange, to say the least. 

 

In class that same month, someone found an ad for the Kate Jordan Bodywork for the Childbearing Year Seminars in a massage magazine. This intense workshop would certify you in bodywork techniques for pre-natal, post-partum, and labor support. I signed up right away, and my passion was further ignited.

 

Now my sister is pregnant. Although I haven't worked with her as much lately as I'd have liked to, we talk about her pregnancy frequently. She surprised me by saying that she was seeking out the Bradley Birthing Method classes in our area, (I'm so proud,) and she'd like to have a doula or a labor support present, and that if I feel that by that time I would be confident enough she thinks I'd be the best person. I am overjoyed. She contacted the most well-known doula in the area (there are not many here) and though she was unable to meeting with my sister for classes, they got to talking about me. Doula says that my certification is wonderful and the greatest thing have as a doula, and that I should give her a call. She's had a few other ladies contact her about mentorship, so if she gets enough of us, she can bring the doula training right here to Fresno.

 

I have her number in my planner. I keep staring at it. 

 

What if everything- from my English degree and interst in anthropology, to my "accidental" step into healthcare, to massage therapy, to my additional certification, has been leading me to this? What if all along these heartbreaks and triumphs have been setting a foundation to do something that I am sincerely interested in? And with a pregnant sister who needs me, I have more reason than ever to persue it now.

 

Standing on the cusp of something unexpected, I am almost frightened. This may mean leaving a job that has treated me well for a year (though isn't at all what I want for a career.) It may mean another financial sacrifice. It may mean changing everything.

 

I haven't called her. I'm mustering something up inside that I cannot describe.

My phone has the temperament of an eight year old. When ever I have to kill time I like to play Bejeweled but it seems to get irritated with me when I can’t see any moves. I swear I haven’t completed any more than one and a half levels in about 100 games. The screen is only 1 inch by 1 inch so I think it should cut me some slack but no, if it has to show me more than two moves per game I instantly get shut down.  I guess my phone thinks I am too stupid to play Bejeweled and tries to save me the headache and embarrassment by ending the game early. I don’t like mean phones.

So I guess I am another year older today. At least that’s what they say any way. I wouldn’t have believed it either until I pulled out my driver’s license and it started laughing at me. Stupid I.D. card. Oh well. Today I will be celebrating my birthday by sitting on my ass in the school liberry for about four hours catching up on the work I missed from yesterday when I decided to keep my germs to myself and stay home. I wish the rest of the campus would be so greedy and try to keep their disease ridden ass at home when they have a cold. That is something that will probably piss me off for the rest of my life; those inconsiderate bastards that spread their funk because they can’t stay home and get better. Yeah I stayed home yesterday and came back today but I feel 100 times better and my nose is almost completely clear. Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do for my birthday. I keep telling them I don’t know…..Because I really don’t know. The only thing I can really use is cash but that would be an awkward gift from anyone. Maybe all I really need to some alone time with a cup of good coffee and a nice view of a sunset. That’s pretty simple I guess and it doesn’t take up any space in the garage when I am done with it. It’s pretty amazing how your priorities change as you get older. I used to always ask for a 6’blond that was really cute and was strong enough that she could carry me around on her shoulders. I don’t know why but that always seemed like it would be fun. She never seemed to show up though so I gave up on that. I think the coffee and sunset idea is a little more attainable so I’ll go with that. Last Sunday my buddy Hans was in town so he stopped by on the way home up north and we had lunch. We went to the local German restaurant and had some pretty good food and since we ate at the bar, we had a lot of yummy beer and a few stronger drinks. I forgot how fun it was to just hang out at a drinking establishment and “shoot the shite”. I haven’t seen or heard from to many people other than facebook since I moved up here and I was starting to wonder.

The weather this morning is perfect. It’s partly cloudy and in the upper 50’s. It nice and cool but not cool enough that you need to bundle up. The only thing ruining my perfect morning if the FA-18’s that are training today so it sounds like thunder every ten minutes when one of them launches in to the sky from the Portland Airport. I used to think that was pretty cool but lately it’s become a little annoying just because it’s so loud and so often. I guess it’s not so bad since they are keeping any meanies from paying us a visit.

Continuing on from Lincoln's Cottage we wandered into an area that we might not have been authorized to enter given we did not have visitors passes....    The Old Soldiers' Home. Written under the clock is SHERMAN

The Old Soldier's Home was founded in 1851 when it was called the Armed Forces Retirement Home.  At that time the US Congress legislated a "military asylum"  for invalid and disabled soldiers of the US army.   The Soldiers' Home was officially recognized as being of historic significance in 1974 when four buildings built before the Civil War were designated National Historic Landmarks.    The Soldiers' Home is the last remaining example of three original military asylums established in 1851.

The entrance to the Home is guarded by miniature cannons:  

    We saw things we might not meant to have been photographing (Yes, it was fully operational).   The grounds are really lovely:    We found an amazing tree propped up on one side     A WWII  vet out for his morning stroll asked where we were from (this is when an Australian accent comes in handy) and talked to us at length about this tree which he called a Missouri Hedge Tree (though I couldn't find such a tree in a quick Google search).  After telling us it was the largest hedge tree around he wandered off:    We found an interesting tower:   -  the sign says DO NOT USE LADDER We then left the grounds and walked to the nearby US National Cemetery which will be the final resting place of many of the men in the Old Soldiers' Home:     So many graves: 

A couple months ago- when we brought on the "help" at work that turned out to be anything but and I was stressed out about so many things- my husband sent an instant message to me at the office:

 

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day."  -Matthew 6:34

 

My husband does not read the Bible, but came across this verse somewhere that day and thought it might help me get through the struggles I was facing. It was completely appropriate, and a nice word of advice.

 

I wrote it on an over-sized post-it note and stuck it to the wall of my desk so that I would remember it.  Later on that day, I shared it with a co-worker.

 

Her eyes filled with tears, and she thanked me for sharing. She's having trouble at home along with stress at the office. She believes that God sent that message to me so that I could share it and comfort her. She printed it out and taped it to her computer.

 

Last week at work was extremely tough. Some things happened that resulted in- well, let's just say that things really couldn't be worse, but we're a great team and pulling together now. I really can't go into more detail.

 

The morning this all came to light, one of the owners passed by my desk on his way outside. He paused and said, "I like your scripture." He told me that the previous night at 9:30PM, he was sitting at my desk, finally getting to eat his dinner and watching the locksmith change the locks and he saw the verse. He thought it was just right.

 

I was suddenly filled with hope.

 

This is how God speaks. It has taken me all these years to finally see it. As a kid I would sit in front of my open Bible and beg God to speak to me. Years of silence have left me jaded and my faith dangling by a thread.

 

God speaks in the post-it on a coworker's desk that wasn't meant for you but found you anyway at the right time. God speaks in the hunch of the belly, when we just know something. God speaks in intuition and consiousness. God speaks in the coincidence that seems unlikely, the subtleties of convenient events. God speaks in the voice of a friend or a stranger.  Sometimes God uses the voice of Mother Nature, in the whisper of the swaying pines filling you with serenity and hope and something solid to believe in.

 

This is God's voice. God is speaking. I am listening.

On the cusp of November, NaNoWriMo staring me in the face and being fully prepared with plot and notes to boot, my MacBook Pro kicked the bucket.

 

Kicked the bucket!

 

Really?! I thought as the screen remained black despite my repeated clicking of the power button. Reliable and a faithful companion through university essays and poems and hundreds of blogs and even more hours of internet browsing in living rooms and offices and coffee shops across Fresno County, finished in a moment when it suddenly refused to turn on.

 

They tell me the logic board is shot. Heh. My logic board feels shot lately, too, so I can't blame it. It'll take about $310 to fix, which we simply cannot afford until long after the holidays. The problem with Apple products is that they're never cheap to fix when they break. So my husband pulled out his old PC for me and set it up on my craft table in the office. He'd been using the monitor in a duel-monitor setup with his Mac. Good thing we still had it. I had dreams of taking my laptop with me to the coffee shop to work on my novel, devoid of the distractions of home, but this will have to do. Somehow I think that I'll be getting a lot less writing done than I'd anticipated.

 

This weekend I decided to be creative. On Friday my mother-in-law hosted a pumpkin-carving party. I carved a swine flu face. I promise to post pics later. On Halloween Chris and I decorated the door in cobwebs and set our jack-o-lanterns out front, and fed chocolate to about half a dozen kids from the complex while we ate roasted brussels sprouts and watched a movie. My hands got antsy, so I crocheted a baby beanie to go with the baby sweater I did last weekend. On Sunday I decided to make the invitations for my sister's baby shower, which I'm hosting on December 6th. The blank notes were cheaper than pre-made invites, and now they're far cuter. I busted out the watercolors and Q-tips and pink ribbon and made a simple but cute invitation that I think will be well-recieved.

 

As I sat there doodling and playing with water colors, I was reminded how many art supplies I have at home and how much I like to create, even if I'm not the best at every medium. Now that my office is somewhat organized, I should feel freer to make and do.

 

It is November 3rd, and even though I have a computer set up, I haven't started a single word for NaNoWriMo. I had planned on waking up on Sunday morning, walking to Starbucks with my laptop and writing for hours to jump things off, but since I am sans laptop, I am less enthused. What is wrong with me?! I was so excited, but now that November is here, I think I am afraid. I need to remind myself that this isn't an essay for school- this is FUN stuff! Tonight I'll start, I swear I will.

Go forth and fill your libraries with media.

Seriously, thanks to everyone for being so amazing and patient. You are the reason I love Vox.

~daisy