Won't C'ya Be My Neighbor?

Let me first preface this entry by saying that I have some great neighbors.  They aren't the Wysteria Lane-chaining-people-in-the-basement types.  In fact I have almost a "nice" war going on with one of them. 

The ones to my west and I are in the who can do nice things for the other one first race.  It currently is centered around the garbage cans.  For the past 3 weeks it is a race to see who will take out both of our garbage cans and then bring them back in.  For the record, I look like the sucky neighbor.  Instead I have this really nice older gentleman in really poor health dragging my trash up and down my hill!  Ok, so then I thought I would make him brownies or bread or something only to find out that he is diabetic plus has chronic pain and the meds he takes makes him lose his appetite.  His grown adult son is so very proud of the new job he got he actually brought me one of his bonus's (it was free tickets to a home show, but still it was a big deal to him.)  Yup, bottom line, I suck.

The neighbors to the east of me are a bunch of science geeks.  All book smarts, practical smarts, ecological smarts, but not a lot of people smarts.  These individuals bike uphill in the snow to preserve the ozone.  They are also the ones responsible for getting me set up on the wireless goods.  (Yea!)  They also do projects simply to test their hypothesis if they can actually do it.  Last spring the two guys got on top of my roof with their climbing gear to help clean out my gutters (they were securing themselves with harnesses from my chimney simply to improve their rock climbing skills simultaneously.) 

Last weekend they decided to "build" a barbeque.  This consisted of rocks, dirt, wood, and the grill off of one of their trucks they are constantly rebuilding.  I didn't know this at the time and came home to my whole house smelling like a forest fire.  Hello?  Charcoal?  Ever heard of it?  I was furious (of course after it took me about 2 hours to figure out what it was, stop going outside to smell around the house, and turn off my swamp cooler).  I poked my head over the fence and asked them to put the fire out.  They did, but they also apologized I didn't get a proper invitation to come join the fun.  The next day I found that my lovely aspen pads I so proudly replaced in the spring, are now permanently saturated with the smell of smoke.  Its a good thing its fall.  However, in all my sustained rage I marched over there to tell them again to not ever do that again and that they are welcome to use my BBQ from my porch anytime.  They apologized profusely and asked if I wanted to see the wedding photos.  So, yours truly (sans wedding gift or belated card) sat down to look at photos of their modest beautiful wedding at some National monument and feel like a horse's ass.

I figure by now, I'm on eternal garbage duty for both sides.

I'm a Carrie, You're a Big

My boyfriend is addicted to "Sex and the City."  He actually told me tonight that he would have to call me once the episode was over. 

I actually have all 6 seasons on DVD.  I tried to share my enthusiasm two years ago this Christmas.  I was snowed in at his parent's house and brought my first season.  His mother sat with us and actually watched the anal sex episode.  Not a good time.  I can't even tell you how many shades of crimson I turned.  As I went off to work the next few days he apparently tried to understand my passion for the show.  I would get messages like this:

"I can't believe you think guys are like this.  There is no way."

"Are you kidding me?!  These women treat these guys like crap!  Please tell me these are not your role models."

He stopped watching after episode 3.  This was ok for me.  I was tired of trying to defend the analytical Carrie, the sexually charged Samatha, the idealistic romantic Charlotte, and the cynical playing the man's game Miranda.  He was not the typical guy.  So my explainations of, "But you see, you aren't the typical guy," didn't go very well.  He could conceed to that point...kind of.

Almost a year later we embarked on the journey of exploring women celebrating their "fabulousness" in NY.  It happened to coincide with the "fabulous" cable deal, "fabulous" new tv, "fabulous" re-runs of the first season a la The Girls, and the not-so-fabulous me being post-op at his place.  Maybe he was taking pity on me, maybe he was pitching some serious woo, but whatever it was, we got to attempt to change his view.

Tonight I was told, "Season Two, episode 21 is on 'Old Dogs, New Dicks' is on!  Charlotte is dating an uncircumsized guy, Miranda is dating Steve, and did I tell you how great Big is?  He is a funny, cool guy.  I mean, really, what is there not to like about him?  And by the way, you are just as neurotic as Carrie, did you know that?" 

Huh.  I've created a monster.  Last summer all the rage, according to CoJo was tee shirts that read, "I'm a Carrie," or "I'm a Samantha."  Perhaps men will begin to embrace their guilty addictions of "Despirate Housewives" or "Sex and the City."  Before you know it, there will be a fashion rage of guys wearing tee's saying things like, "I'm a Big." 

Well, maybe not that phrase.  I think women would read WAY too much into a tee shirt that had that phrase on it...

Ring a Ding Ding

This week I've been focusing on human resource issues.  The big focus the past few days has been doing pre-screening interviews for a position.  What it usually involves is a lot of phone tag.  Because of this delight, I get to experience a lot of different voice mail options people choose.

1.  Just the phone digits as the intro.  Good points:  simple, to the point, factual.  Bad points:  I'm constantly stammering because I'm double checking the number to make sure I got the right residence.  Result:  people thinking I'm stupid, inarticulate, and wouldn't want to work for me.

2.  The phone tree.  Haven't people figured out how annoying these things are when they are trying to reach customer service, let alone, an individual?  When I'm trying to call my bank or a doctors office I suffer through them, but I refuse to go through the pain for other reasons.  Result:  I think they are people avoidant or hyper-organizational (aka obcessive compulsive) and wouldn't want them working for me.

3.  Honesty.  Ok, I have to admit, I have this one but I haven't encountered it yet on my recent quest.  I am so tired of people leaving message after message when it is clear I have not called them back so therefore I don't want to talk to them (huh, maybe I should have a phone tree.)  So, after listening to my girlfriends message, I followed suit.  "Hi, you've reached me.  I'm either not home or I'm screening my phone calls.  Leave a message."  Isn't that what we're doing anyway?  I run to the caller ID everytime and decide by the third ring if I have enough energy to talk with this person...usually I do.  However,  I also realize this is not a professional message therefore if I'm looking for a job they get my cell number not my home.

4.  The baby.  Unless your name is Grandma, NO ONE THINKS THIS IS CUTE.  I want to throw up everytime I hear some stupid toddler repeating their ever so proud parents prompting of "leave a message," which usually sounds more like, "weave messsge."  I write this as a plead to all of those stay at home moms writing blogs about their newborns to please, PLEASE resist the temptation of putting little Suzie on the voice mail.  I work for a pediatric facility and even I do not think this is cute!!!  You will forever alienate your single friends or set up some strange mommy neighborhood competition to see who's child is more developed to actually enunciate the words!!!  Don't do it. 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Last week I attempted a good faith effort to improve my department's morale and held a retreat.  The planning committee was shocked when I actually asked them to plan stuff that was meaningful and work related.  Their first agenda included things like board games, walk, movie, mingle time.  I sent them back to the drawing board thinking how would I explain to my CEO that it was worth a day of salary dollars for 30 people. 

We did the usual ice breakers (which are stupid, by the way because you should know everyone already), a team building scavenger walk (I compromised on this one yet still added more of a point to the activity), and other stuff.  When I refer to the "other stuff" I'm talking about all of the touchy-feely things mental health people get off on.  We had to "process."

We themed the retreat:  transisitions.  Also known as:  Get over it already, the bus has come, left the station and now you are just being dragged behind it.  Processing how all of the transistions affected them over the past few years took awhile.  People brought objects to make things safe.  I saw everything from pantyhose (my job is a good fit) to a flag (I feel freedom at work to get paid to do something I love) to my personal favorite, a sign mocking our mission written in barbed wire font (I think my boss is a bitch).  

We are a family centered organization.  Note:  I have to explain constantly to my employees that the term, "family," does not mean their personal family, but the patients and families we serve and therefore gives us money.  To them, business is a foreign concept.  However, not to cause a scene in front of the group when I saw the barbed wire thing I pulled a non-commitmal, "Hum. Interesting." 

In the afternoon we did the color code test.  If you have ever taken this test, it seems to be more of a parlor trick than others, but its what they decided (another concession on my part).  I am the only red personality in my whole department.  Reds are the decision makers, the power guys, the action people.  However, I am a close second of blue.  Blues are the do-gooders, the morally just, and the intellectuals.  The Whites are the peace keepers.  They tend to be boring, quiet, and their motto is very Rodney King-esque.  The Yellows are motivated by fun.  Fun, fun,fun!  People people, flashy, a bit funny, and a bit inconsistent, but Fun!  I only have one yellow in my department and wouldn't you know, she is the only one besides me who can't figure out why everyone is so invested in feeling stuck.  Afterall, being stuck isn't fun!

Nope, wouldn't you know it I have a whole department of blue/whites.  They feel bad, know that they are justified in feeling bad, and won't tell anyone outright because they wouldn't want to rock the boat.  I actually had someone say, "You can't put a timeline on my grief."  Ohhkay, well sister it has been 2 years!!!  Kleenex called and they want to put you on the board of directors because you alone increased their stock value!!!  Winnie the Pooh called and wants you to play the part of Eeyore in their next Heffalump movie!!  (Ok, why I even know there is a Heffalump movie is scary, but I blame it on the line of work I'm in.)  Point is:  get over it!

When I spoke to my mentor, another red/blue split, later in the week she said, "Well that explains a lot.  You need diversification in that rainbow you've got over there."  Yup, mixing blue and white (depending on the hues of course) could wind up being a really drab light grey-blue.  (Again, not fun!) 

Mormon Mardi Gras

I have been working out at Camp Williams part of the time.  For those of you in the dark, this is the evacuee site for Utah.  About 300 or so remain, which is a far cry from our expected 2000.  These poor individuals have been plucked off of roofs, rescued from the convention center, or survived the Superdome.  There is no rhyme or reason to who was brought here.  This is the poorest of the poor, mostly African American, Baptist, single, disabled, from East New Orleans.  They have witnessed atrocities of people getting their throats slit, bullet-ridden bodies, rotting corpses, babies dehydrated, and the elderly raped.  I have heard a lot. 

In my opinion, the media has treated these individuals like zoo animals.  Everywhere you turn a camera is being stuck in their faces.  African Americans are a novelty here in Utah.  Which is unfortunate.  However, they should remember they are people not the newest attraction.

I have been to East New Orleans once.  We were warned not to go there because of the crime and because I was White.  A group of students went to a nightclub and I was invited because I was the girlfriend of an African American.  I stuck out like a sore thumb.  Our night ended because there was a violent fight on the dance floor.

It boggles me how people are opening up their homes to others.  I realize everyone is assuming good intent, but really what we really need is some caution.  For one, you don't know if these individuals are the perpetrators or the victims at the convention center.  You don't know if they are the looters or the rapists. 

I spent all day Sunday trying to procure things like eyeglasses, dentures, shower chairs, hearing aids, etc. I also helped set up a mental health clinic, a triage group to go out to the dorms, and some group debriefings.  When we presented our plan to the State, we were told we needed buy off.  From who?  They really didn't know.  The problem is they didn't know who was in charge.  Was it FEMA? Health and Human Services? Red Cross? Governor’s office?  Dept of Homeland Security?  No one knew.  It was the same disorganization that the Nation is seeing on a smaller scale.  Too many good intentions, not enough leaders.

Efforts were concentrated the past few days on playing concierge.  How do we get people outta here if they have ANY connection outside of Utah.  You can imagine quite a few do and they were pretty baffled by the mountains.  However, some I spoke with told me they were staying here.  It was clean, pretty, and we were nice to them.  They liked the mountains (although didn't believe they were real at first) but they didn't exactly know where they were on the map.  No one told them they were coming to Utah.  One guy remarked he thought it was a really long plane ride to get to Houston.

I wonder when will the novelty wear off?  I wonder when Utah will realize we have just inherited a lot of poor, homeless, disabled people...I mean, we really didn't take care of the ones we have already.  When will the LDS church realize these individuals are strong in their faith base and they don't have a bunch of new converts?  When will the evacuees discover our liquor laws and find out that Fat Tuesday is not a National holiday?  What will happen then?

Mormon Mardi Gras.  They throw Books of Mormon everytime someone yells, "Preiate C'ya." and shows off their garments.  Everyone is hyped up on caffeine free coke and kool aid vs. alcohol.  They could have Harry Connick, Jr. do a special number jazz style of "I am a Child of God."  And instead of parade floats, they could do hand carts!!!  Oh wait, that already happens...Days of 47. 

 

Denouement

The word, "denouement," is French.  It means the events following the climax of a drama or novel in which such a resolution or clarification takes place  For some reason I thought my 30th birthday would signify a denoument in my life.  I couldn't have been farther from the truth.  I haven't achieved resolution or clarification about anything. 

29 was a traumatic birthday for me, more so than 30.  It was the end of my twenties and I only had one year left to cling to the idea of being young and free.  I did a lot in that decade.  I graduated from undergrad and graduate school.  I moved in and out of my parents house about 8 times.  I was a vet tech, a pastry chef, and a social worker.  I lived in three different cities and figured out how to live on $80 a month.  I figured out who I didn't want to be with romantically and I figured out who I did.  I found incredible friends and I realized that some were only there for a little while. 

On the otherhand, there are things I am glad to be rid of that I did in my twenties.  Skills I acquired:  how to do a keg stand, how to play the politics of a sorority, how to drink and dial ex-boyfriends, and how to do late night last minute school projects.  There were many mornings I would stand in the shower and cringe of embarressment of whatever I did the night before. 

I wonder what my thirties will bring.  Perhaps it will bring more self-confidence and less shower anxiety. 

Angels Among Us...

I have heard from a number of friends in NOLA either by phone or email.  I've decided to share an email from a friend who is a NICU nurse at Ochsner Hospital.  Here is her story...

HELLO 
 
I am at Ochsner. I am well and dry, well sweating not dry. NO water up her but it is rising around us. I am sending this message to all of you because I know that you may speak to my family and you could tell them that I am well, just hot. We have no power except for red outlets so no ac, tv or any lights in the bathroom. Try shaving your legs in the dark, ha ha . I am in a tank top and shorts that I have worn for 2 days. I am washing my clothes in the dirty water. I even showered int the brownish red water. Who cares it was dark and I did not see it, besides it felt so cool. We have no ice that is edible. We are going to be on 20/20 on Thrusday at 9 pm. I have a pt gown on and am feeding the most beautiful baby girl. I have greasy hair and I look like sh..---You understand. I am well and joking about things. I have not seen my house but I know that I am unable to talk with Chris. He stayed home and then evacuated yesterday. I spoke with his aunt in TX wwhere he is going and she said that he is going there and my house has damage but she does not know how much. I hope that all of you are safe and I am thinking of you. 
 
We have started sending pts out to TX, AL, and Baton Rouge. The nurses in BR came down and brought us ice chest full of clean ice and cold drinks. They came to get the kids and they saw what we were dealing with and the felt sorry for us. They ROCK!!! We are going to be helping out in the hospital. I am so glad that I have adult experience. I may need it. Well got to go. 
 
LOVE YOU ALL, 
 
 
Have a great day or night whatever it may be.