Crazy

What they don't tell you when you get in the leasing industry is that not only do you have to perform the administrative duties of leasing a property; but you have to be an (unwilling) confidante, sometimes friend, mediator, referee, counselor and babysitter. When you put 100+ adults in a small area all common sense seems to go out the window and people start acting like children. They also don't tell you that for every 3 normal residents you have there is 1 not operating on a full deck.

I've Got I.D.
When you fill out an application to live in an apartment you have to identify whether or not you have a pet. When you do that you have to list the type of pet (bird, cat, dog) and the breed of the pet. We also want to know how old, how tall and how heavy your pet is. It's not to be mean. We just know that your downstairs neighbor will appreciate you much more if you don't have a Great Dane running around your apartment in the middle of the night. We also want to know identifying features of your pet. That's so if your beloved dog Ruffles gets loose that we'll know who to return him to.

The company I was working for at the time had recently purchased a new property. We were two weeks from the official takeover so I was at a property close by auditing the files of the applicants waiting to move in as well as the current residents. If someone was a chronic late-payer I made sure to make a note so these things could be brought up when we met with the old company before the purchase.

I came across one apartment that had a rather thick file. Not only were they habitually late payers but they had a very aggressive dog that made working on maintenance requests difficult as the dog had to be removed from the apartment or double-caged to keep it from getting out and attacking the maintenance team. I was looking over the pet rider (a rider is any amendment or addition to a standard lease that can change during the residency. ie: owner no longer has pet, we simply note it on the rider rather than having them sign a new lease.)

As I was reading this rider, I'm noting that the dog is a pitbull mix. As I skim to the physical markings part of the rider I notice: 5'3", brunette, tattoo on left breast, wrist and ankle. Yes dear reader, the resident described themselves and NOT the dog. Good to know, because if she ever got loose on the property, I was sure to know what apartment to send her back to!
We'll see a lot of this particular resident in the future.

Ed McMann
In order to rent an apartment, you have to have money. Not only do you have to have money but you have to have proof of having money. I mean, we're not going to give you your apartment for free. That would be just silly.

I had a prospective resident who would call every month to ask about availability and pricing. The prices never changed but she would always say that she was waiting until the price was low enough for her to move in. Over the course of a year, I got to know her well as she would always tell me about her troubles. And because I have nothing better to do (I mean, seriously, managing a multi-million dollar property is a cakewalk.) she liked to keep me on the phone for as long as she could. One day, I receive a call from her. She was so excited and happy.

Caller: You'll never guess what happened to me. I finally have my money. I am so excited, I came upon a windfall of money. I can finally move in! And I'll pay for my for a year right away. I'm so happy!

Me: Oh, that's so wonderful! I'm very happy for you. When would you like to come in and pick out your new apartment?

Caller: Well, my letter said that I just won $10million and that I have some paperwork to fill out before I can claim my money. But I think I'll have it within the month.

Me: (starting to get suspicious). That's. . . great. So, do you want to schedule an appointment?

Caller: Well, in order to claim my money, I just have to order some magazines. Why don't I call you once I get everything set up.

Me: Did your letter happen to come from Ed McMann?

Caller: How did you know?! Oh this is such a wonderful day.

Me: (shaking my head). How about this, why don't you call the number on the letter. I think this is from Publishers Clearing House. Why don't you call me back when you get all of this sorted out and set up an appointment when you know when you'll be receiving the money and we'll make our plans from there.

Caller: That sounds great! I can't wait to come in. I'll be talking to you soon!

Really, I couldn't burst her bubble. I'm not a monster. I figured that she would realize the truth when she called the 1-800 number on the letter. As much as she kept me on the phone when she called other times, I just couldn't rain on her parade. She was so happy and it was kinda cute.


I Want What He's Having!
Sometimes the crazy doesn't come from the residents. Sometimes it comes from the people that pop in to the office. Sometimes they want information on the property, or are inquiring about employment opportunities, some are looking for their friend's apartment or just want directions. I had made a habit of making sure the leasing office was as welcoming as possible. We had snacks, free coffee, tea or hot chocolate and sodas in the fridge. I'd bake cookies or have popcorn just popped ready and waiting. It was about the experience for not only residents but people who may be interested in renting an apartment.

One spring morning, I was refreshing the snacks. Office hours didn't officially start but I had the door unlocked because I was bringing things in from my car. I look up and standing in the doorway is a gentleman. There wasn't anything remarkable about his appearance but he looked a little lost. I asked him if there's anything I could help him with.

Man: What's going on over there? (nods towards the pool that is covered in a green tarp)

Me: Oh, we're in the process of uncovering the pool so we can drain it and get it ready for the summer.

Man: Yeah, but what's going on. They're setting up all that stuff.

Me: Oh the tools. Yes, they are rather unusual, aren't they? (Our pool cover attached with a complicated bolt mechanism that required large wrenches).

Man: No, no, the concert they're setting up.

Me: Excuse me?

Man: Yeah, see all the speakers? Do you know who is playing?

Me: No, sorry, I. . . don't?!

Man: Oh well, looks pretty rad. Can I have a muffin?

And with that, as quickly as appeared, he was gone. Muffin in hand happily walking out of the complex.

Coming Soon! Crazier and Craziest!

Tales From a Property Manager

I've accumulated quite a few stories over the years I spent working in the property management field. I figured I shouldn't be the only one to benefit from the strange but true stories.

Annie Oakley
Annie got her name because she liked to carry a rifle in a bag wherever she went. Like taking her trash out or paying her rent, this rifle went everywhere with her. One day, I get a call in the office from Annie. She was requesting that we remove the unused outlets from her apartment. Curious, I asked why. Her response:

Annie: Well, Sirhan Sirhan and Hitler use my outlets to communicate with eachother. They're plotting something bad and I don't want to be responsible for their trouble.

Me: I'm sorry, we can't remove the electrical outlets, but I will send a maintenance tech over to your apartment to have a look.

About a half-hour the maintenance guy returns to the office laughing. I asked him how things went. He said that Annie became even more adamant about having the outlets removed. After a good 10 minutes of back and forth he finally compromised by placing electrical tape over the unused outlets. He told her that it was special CIA approved tape and it would stop them from communicating with eachother.

Laundry Thief
It was the end of my work day and I was at a property my company just took over. I was sitting at the desk in the leasing area going over the application with a couple who were looking at renting a two bedroom apartment. As I was going through the paperwork, in walks C with two large trash bags.

C demands that she speak with me now. Seeing that she was clearly upset, I excused myself from the couple, telling them to read over the paperwork and that I would be back with them in a few minutes to answer any questions. I walk over to C and ask her if I could help her.

C: Here (she thrusts the bags at me). Someone stole my laundry basket. I know who it is, it's the damn kids upstairs. I took their laundry out of the dryer and put them in these bags.

Me: What do you want me to do with this?

C: I want you to call them and demand that they give me my laundry basket.

At this point, she's starting to yell. The couple reviewing the paperwork can clearly hear what is going on.

C: This is clearly an issue of theft. I demand that you stop these people from stealing. It's unacceptable and disgusting and if you don't do something about it I'm going to move.

I calmly look at C:
Me:I will most certainly look into the situation. What number can I call you back at? I'm currently helping this couple but I will look into it when I'm through with them.

C: (yelling now) This is absurd. You need to handle this RIGHT NOW. Theft is unacceptable.

Me: (almost nearling my level for no longer being calm) I will absoultely deal with this when I am done with this couple and I will call you when I am through.

C: No, I will wait here. People can't walk around stealing things. I don't want them to get their clothes until I get my basket back.

Me: (up until this point, I was willing to just give her money from petty cash for a new basket, just to get her to leave. But now she's taken it too far and the couple that is sitting close by could be considering whether they want to move into a community with people like her. Then it hits me.)C, you need to leave the office now. Besides, what do you think you just did by bringing me their laundry. You stole it from them and now you want me to ransom their clothing for a $1 basket?

C storms out of the office in a huff. I apologize profusely to the couple and assure them that things like this do not happen here on a regular basis and that we don't tolerate behavior like that and that I will be dealing with the disturbance. Fortunately they had a good attitude about it and were able to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Once the couple left, I called the residents who were missing their laundry. They come down to the office with the laundry basket and tell me that the basket was actually theirs and that it was stolen from them. He then proceeds to show me the bottom of his basket. In faded and scratched sharpie was the residents name and his dorm room # from college. Thankfully HE had a good sense of humor and took his clothes back of him.

I never heard back from C, but from what I understand she left the couple alone from then on out.

Coming Soon: More Tales of the Crazy, Crazier and Craziest Residents

We survived the TSA

Remember a couple of posts ago, I was worried about what I was going to tell my 90 year old grandmother about the new TSA process? Well, we had a bit of an issue getting to and from Key West. Let me start by saying that I appreciate the efforts to make flying safe and I understand that these screening efforts are in place because there are people trying to do very bad things. However, I believe that *if* you find something suspicious that you explain the process as you go.

We were flying out of Harrisburg International. One, because it's a smaller airport and two because we only had one stop between there and key west. We arrived at the airport nice and early with the understanding that we'll be flying on one of the busiest days for travel. There really wasn't a huge crowd so we thought getting through security would be a breeze.

As we zig-zagged through the cattle chutes people were being split between the X-Ray machines and the one full body scanner. Mom and Mom Mom went through X-Ray without problem. Brad, Eddie and I were put in the full body scanner line. Brad and I went through without incident. Eddie was pulled to the side. We figured his insulin pump gave them cause to do a pat-down and he was prepared in advance and provided medical documentation stating that he had the pump and vials of insulin.

What we weren't prepared for was after the pat-down when they pulled him into an opaque room and told me I couldn't follow him. I was told to go to my gate or wait at the seating area outside of the security area. This was AFTER I told them I was his wife and after they refused to tell me what was going on. For well over 15 minutes (that felt like hours) Eddie emerges. It seems that something set off the scanner and indicated that there was some kind of chemical that was on the 'list' of potential dangers.

For 15 minutes they went through his backpack that had our camera and computer. They ran gloved hands all over him and tested them. All the while not telling him why they were doing it. When it was all said and done, they told him that it was probably the gasoline from the gas station we stopped at on the way to the airport that triggered this extra treatment. They never once told him that he had the right to have someone with him or that he had a right to refuse this extra attention. They made him sign a piece of paper that stated something along the lines of being pleased with the treatment he received. At this time, they were calling for the pre-boarding of our flight. So what was he to do? Miss the flight and potentially not be permitted to fly? Of course he signed it.

Not to mention the fact that I was told nothing and watched 3 different security personnel go into the opaque room that held my husband. Uncertain as to what was going on. As he was being escorted to the seating area where I was anxiously waiting, the security escort told him that he was really sorry and that most of them didn't have a whole lot of training and what training they did have didn't include how to treat the people they were essentially groping.

Since we were leaving for what was going to be a very nice and relaxing trip to warmer weather, we boarded our plane. Thinking that this was just a once and done occurrence, we put this incident out of the way with the intent to voice our concern when we returned. Knowing that Eddie wouldn't be pumping gas on the return flight home, we didn't really think we'd experience the same incident again.

Key West was great. The weather was warm and we had beautiful weather. Mom Mom really enjoyed seeing all of the cats, chickens and houses. We ate fresh seafood, saw stunning sunsets and many ships large and small. Because we were constantly going, Mom Mom's joints were bothering her so she was using quite a bit of ben-gay and horse lineament. And not just a little bit either. We could feel it on our skin just by pushing her in the wheel chair.

The day we left, Mom Mom applied her standard quarter of a tube of ben-gay and horse lineament, packed her bags and waited til it was time to leave the house for the air port. Key West doesn't have the body scanners so we really didn't think we would run into any issues in security. Mom walked through ok, Brad and I walked through ok and Eddie walked through without incident. Mom Mom made it through fine but they had to inspect her wheel chair.

As we are sitting on the other side of security putting our shoes back on and helping Mom Mom, a TSA agent tells Mom Mom that they need to do further screening. THIS was what I was worried about. The agent was very nice and explained exactly what she was doing. She was even a little less gropey when performing the pat-down. She explained that the wheel chair tested positive for chemical traces. They noticed that Mom Mom was older and likely not a terrorist but protocol indicated that they had to test their gloves after the pat-down just in case.

We anxiously waited, praying that Mom Mom wouldn't have to go through the same indignity that Eddie had to. After a minute or so the agent walks up to Mom Mom and asks her if she takes any medication as that was what the machine indicated. So Mom Mom rattled off the booklet of medication she takes on a daily basis. The TSA agent asks if any of them are liquid to which Mom Mom replied no.

This confused the TSA agent, who then mentioned that they will more than likely have to do further screening. As she was walking to get an airport wheel chair to transport Mom Mom to locations unknown, my brilliant brother says 'wait! Does ben-gay count?' The TSA agent said of course, the chemicals could very easily have set off the machines. We all look at each other and laugh. The near entire tube that Mom Mom applied the past week had seeped into the wheelchair, coating it in the chemicals and lotion.

Satisfied with our revelation, the TSA agent released us and let us continue on to our gate. It's amazing what sets off these machines. It's also amazing that most agents have little to no training on how to deal with the people they are 'investigating' and how far they are willing to go based on appearance. So lesson learned, be extremely careful before going through security. Hope that you get someone who has good interpersonal skills and who has been properly trained. And for gods sake, don't coat yourself in ben-gay!!!

Travel Drama

I'm leaving tomorrow for Key West. I'm really looking forward to the trip and to sun and warm weather. However, I have a raging panic attack that's been here for the last three days. I haven't always been a good flyer. Planes used to scare the crap out of me. In 2007 I was forced to overcome my fear when my job required travel to Texas and Germany and a family trip to Jamaica all occurred within a little over one month.

Since then I have enjoyed travel and flying. Until March of this year. I went on a cruise for my birthday. The cruise itself was fine. The flight home was what terrifying. The east coast was being hammered by storms the day we flew home. In the airport, we sat and watched as flight after flight was delayed. Our flight was not.

The start of the flight home was great, rather unremarkable. But as we got closer to LaGuardia airport we hit terrible turbulence. The plane was shaken left, right, up and down. The winds were so strong that you could feel the plane being pushed backwards. We circled the airport for what felt like an eternity (at least an hour) in this awful turbulence. The plane sounded like it was going to come apart at the scenes. People were getting sick, screaming and crying. I turned my phone and texted Eddie and said that I thought we were going to crash and that I loved him.

The pilot attempted to land several times, we heard the landing gear come down but we saw nothing but clouds and fog out the window. Not even the blink of the runway lights. LaGuardia kept giving the clear for us to land (we had an amazing flight crew who kept us up-to-date on what was going on.) After being pushed back on the last attempt to land, the pilot came over the speaker system and told us that despite LaGuardia's insistence that we land he was taking us to Philly International (which was closer to home for me than NYC, but was not an option as the airline we flew did not have a gate at PHL.)

Our crew was wonderful. But the stress of our experience caused one flight attendant to have a heart attack. One of the girls I was traveling with passed out from a panic attack brought on by extreme pressure from the experience. They made the call over the system asking for all doctors and nurses to report to the back of the plane. An off-duty attendant who was flying home on the airline took over her duties. Helped find alternate transportation, got everyone free drinks and did what he could to calm everyone down.

I thought I was going to die. It wasn't until we touched down on the tarmac at the airport that I felt relieved. And it wasn't until Eddie got home (he was in NYC waiting to pick us up so he had to drive back to our house while my father-in-law picked me up at the police station in the Philly airport) that it hit me exactly how terrified I was. All I said for a half-an-hour, between the sobs, was 'I never thought I was going to see you again.'

I know that the experience was unique and that it was a result of the weather and not the very capable flight crew. There were other flights that had similar issues and all airports in or around New York were redirected. I know that tomorrow, when I get on the plane that I'll have a safe journey. I know that. That flight should not be what I base all future travel on. So tomorrow, I'll just remind myself that I'm going to have a wonderful vacation with my family and that everything is going to be just fine.

Please Mr(Ms?) Post Man!

I'm a celebrity gossip whore. I'll admit it. I'm really trying to get better. I completely stopped visiting websites by a certain Queen of All Media when I started to find his posts less about gossip and more about relentless bullying of, well. . .just about anybody. I occasionally find myself wandering over to Pink Is the New Blog as I find his gossip refreshing and not bullying at all. Plus, Trent blogs about his life which I find interesting and he is extremely gracious and real; something that is often lost in LaLa Land.

I used to, every Thursday at lunch, make my way to Target to pick up the Triumvirate of weekly magazines (US Weekly, People and InTouch) when it dawned on me that I could save a LOT of money if I just subscribed to the blasted magazines. Who was I kidding, I was hooked. For the longest time, it was perfect. I'd arrive home on Thursday, snuggle in after dinner and read all the celebrity news fit to print.

Then a strange thing started to happen. I'd get two magazines on Thursday and one on Friday, maybe Saturday. Then one week I'd get People on Monday, US Weekly on Saturday and then nothing. Worried that maybe my magazine slipped between boxes or accidentally went to a neighbor (it's happened before), I'd find myself in Target or the grocery store picking up InTouch. But then on Wednesday the prior weeks InTouch would end up in my mailbox.

I found it odd though, that I was getting my magazines (and really, it rotated each week) nearly a week after publication date and the day before the next issue would hit the news stands. I pay for a subscription to save money and to get them on or before the date they hit the news stands. And now, I'm spending more money to replace the missing magazine. So out of curiosity I called Customer Service of each magazine. Each time, I was told the same story. They try their best to ship their issues as close to newsstand date as possible and that a one to two day delay can be expected but a week was completely out of the ordinary and should not be happening. Because, really, who wants to read week old news?

I suspected that perhaps my mail carrier or someone in the sorting line was perusing reading my magazines. Looking back, I've lost complete issues of monthly magazines and had to buy from the news stand or gotten copies that were so tattered and had complete pages missing or even pages dogeared.

Today, I found what I suspected, that I was in fact not the first reader of my magazines. As I was reading US Weekly, addressed to me, I happened upon a phone number written in red pen on one of the pages. At first I thought maybe this was something that is printed as part of the article. As I looked closer you could see the indentation from writing on the page behind it. I am LIVID.

Who the fuck do they think they are, stealing my mail?! If you're too cheap to buy the damn magazines - go to the fucking library. Hell, you can even have mine on Friday - AFTER I've read them first. Yes, in the end I get my magazines. But they're MINE, I don't want to read them a week late after you've gone through them. If you're doing that to my magazines, what else are you looking at?

So, added to my Monday To-Do List includes a call to the Post Master. Do I think they'll actually do something? Probably not, since there's no way to tell where in the process this borrowing theft occurs. But maybe this complaint will at least result in a little bit more monitoring and the timely delivery of my mail.

Friday Flip Off 11/19/10

A couple of blogs I follow Ash and MommaKiss do this, I figured why the hell not. I'm such a lemming, and a late follower. So, without further ado. . .

A big flip off to the man behind me in the theatre earlier this evening. Eddie decided it would be nice to come home with tickets to see Harry Potter before the crowds of people show up, so on his way home from school he picked up our tickets for the 4pm show. We hardly go to the theatre (I have difficulty sitting comfortably in one spot for long periods of time)so I was looking forward to the evening. I'm pretty tolerant of kids talking during movies, getting up and running to the bathroom and all that other stuff. I mean, they're kids, they're not doing it intentionally. What I don't like is adults who are inconsiderate. Every 5 minutes throughout the movie I hear what can only be described as Snuffulupagus with a runny nose. Look. I know it's cold and flu season and sometimes we get runny noses. But seriously, bring tissues if you're nose is running like a faucet or go grab some napkins or something. Nobody wants to hear your nasal juices being forcibly sucked back into your body. Even better, do us healthy people a favor and stay home til you feel better. Harry Potter will still be there when you're able to contain your snot inside your body. Nobody wants to get what you have.

A big flip off to seat kickers. Yeah, Snot Man is also a seat kicker. There is nothing more aggravating than sitting in front of someone who can't sit still. If you are too tall to cram yourself into the row of chairs you need to sit on the aisle. There's nothing like watching a movie and being pushed back and forth by your fidgety feet.

Pretty trivial flip offs for a pretty boring week. But, it was enough to piss me off. No Friday Flip Off next week, I'll be in Sunny Key West. Hopefully with my feet in the sand a drink in my hand and the sun on my face. Or just drunk. I'll settle for that, too.

If you're gonna Flip, make sure you link!

Public Grope

Next Wednesday morning, way earlier than I'd like to be awake, I'll be going through security so I can board a plane and go on our family vacation. I'm prepared for the TSA 'Gate Rape' should they require to do one. What I'm NOT prepared for, the challenge I have now, is explaining what is going to happen to my 90-year-old grandmother who has difficulty standing and walking. Which will pretty much assure that she get the special treatment by TSA.

My 90-year-old grandmother who is the furthest thing from a terrorist. Who grew up in an age where touching someone meant so much more than it does now. She worries needlessly so my mom and I are purposefully not commenting on the news reports. But we're going to have to say something to her at some point. I don't want to wheel her right up and say 'surprise MM, you're getting groped for Thanksgiving.

It will get better. . .

At least, that's what Eddie tells me. I wish I was able to spring back like he did all these years ago. I guess the loss of a child is different for each parent. Eddie, who is so stoic can even come across as unphased. Me, broken into a million shards still not put back together correctly. I'm not getting any younger, as I've been told by family.

So I agree with Eddie. A compromise. We'll try. But we'll consider adoption as well. . . just in case. I worry that though I agree to try my body, or I suppose my mind, is still protesting. Something stressful as starting a family is one million times harder when you couldn't do it right the first time. (I know. . .knock it off, I have to quit blaming myself.)The more I think about it the more objections I come up with.

There's probably going to be some future posts because lets face it, I've got to get rid of these thoughts somehow. I'm trying so hard to be zen about this. I really don't want to make this entire blog about this sudden about face (though I suppose in my head it's not so sudden.) But there will probably be an occasional post, you know, just to keep my sanity. And please, feel free to derail those negative/scared posts if you catch them. Letting go is sometimes the hardest thing to do. I've done a good job of not letting go for many many years. Letting go doesn't mean not loving and I have to remind myself of that every day.

Where do I start?

This post has been sitting here for the better part of two weeks. Unpublished, waiting. I have dreams about it when I'm not online. I know it's here, it knows that it's here. And yet, I find myself unable to push the publish post button. I've 'written' what I want in my head but my fingers seem like phantom limbs as I attempt to type the words seem to be an alien language and nothing seems right. Because admitting this terrifies me to no end. And I've done so well (or maybe not?) by telling people 'not yet.'

I guess you could say that I'm a member of the club that no person ever really wants to be a part of. I'm the mother of a child who was not meant for this earth. My son, born early and with a diaphragmatic hernia, a genetic anomaly that would cost him his life. My son, who never came home in the short 5 months of his life. Whose only cry came the second he came into this earth and who was only ever able to be held 3 short times. My son, Gregory.

A mother by definition and yet not. Did it change the day he left this earth? I see children his age and wonder what he would be like. Would he be playing soccer like his mom or run like his dad? Would he be tearing apart our electronics with Eddie or reading a book like me? And yet it feels like my world stopped with his. Time stood still around me while it has progressed for everyone around me.

The cold steel grasp of fear grips me and I can't shake it. The rational part of my brain knows that the it is very unlikely that another child would have the same genetic anomaly. The logical part of my brain knows that everything will be fine. The emotional part won't move. It's loud and it's screaming over the parts of my brain that tell me it will be ok. I can't move forward and yet I want to.

fibrohaiku

fall has arrived
cold and rain bring changes
the pain will not cease

I said Doctor!

I've had an interesting 24hours. I'm writing this from my very uncomfortable chair in the ICU. Hey, it beats the plastic chair in the ER, so beggars can't be choosers, right? So let me start by saying I'm not the one admitted to the hospital. Eddie is. Yesterday afternoon he got a stomach bug (I'll spare you the details) and by 1 am when he still was getting sick he called his endocrinologist who told him in no uncertain terms that he had to go to the ER immediately, that he was probably in diabetic ketoacidosis.

I really don't quite get DKA other than when you have diabetes and get sick like this you get dehydrated, your blood sugar spikes and your electrolytes go on a free-for-all in your body. Not to mention the fact that he is also harboring some kind of infection (maybe, they also said it could be his body reacting to what was going on) so his white blood cell count is 27,000. It's supposed to be in the 7,000 to 10,000 range. Plus, because all of his muscles were so tight from being sick for 9hrs straight he couldn't pee. So he had terrible pressure in his bladder. Add to that severe dehydration and you have a very unhappy Eddie.

Hours, multiple blood draws, sugar checks and tests later we're sitting in his ICU room waiting to see how things are going to progress. At best we're looking at a 2 day stay (though we really hope that it's less) and at most 3+. The regular ICU doc is ready to hand him off as long as his x-rays come back clean and there's no appendix waiting to burst or other nasty surprises. What he suspects is he picked up the stomach bug going around his school and it got the best of him OR it was the suspect macaroni salad that Eddie ate yesterday at lunch (I even TOLD him it had probably spoiled).His hospital endocrinologist however, will probably be what holds him up. He's been well taken care of by his current endocrinologist who has him on the insulin pump and knows that Eddie adjusts his insulin in the pump based on his activity level and what he eats that day.

This doc has a hero complex, has taken him OFF the pump and is trying to change how much insulin he gets and how much food he eats. So, when I get home today, I'm leaving a very detailed message with the answering service of HIS doctor. I have a feeling he'll be in tomorrow and as long as the rest of Eddie's results are fine they'll be able to discharge him. The last time this happened (11 years ago, which surprises the staff here as they expected him to be a regular) he was hospitalized for a week. Since we were in a different town as HIS doctor, the hospital we were in didn't call him. We were told by the regular that he should never have been hospitalized for longer than 24-hours.

The nurses are great here, and at least they're working to get him on the right track to going home soon. And I really can't complain about the ICU docs either. So. . .here we sit, waiting and hoping to have some good news with the next update.

Finally!

It's finally fall! (and I'm finally updating the blog!) I've been looking forward to fall for weeks. Sad as it was that summer was over, I was really looking forward to the crisp cool fall nights. Fall is my favorite time of year. I love the warm (but not too hot) days, the cool nights, bonfires, the changing leaves, apple cider, fires in the fireplace, pumpkins and apples. Plus, fall is the perfect lead up to the Holiday season!

Fall to me means baking with apples and pumpkin, soups and homemade bread. I've really started to cook a lot more. I can't do it every day, but on my good days there's nothing like making a good meal from scratch. I've really been playing with seasonal veggies and fruit. I've been roasting butternut squash with some garlic, carrots and parsnips. Had pork chops with spiced apple chutney, apple puff pastries and cinnamon coffee cake muffins. In fact, I've got quite a bit of recipes that I have collected and am ready to try. I'm really trying to avoid going out to eat and utilizing what I've got at home.

Plus, by baking bread and muffins, I have better control over Eddie's diabetes. Applesauce and bananas are great substitutes for not only sugar but for oil as well. Plus, it makes whatever your baking nice and moist. By eliminating processed sugars and oil, Eddie's sugar has been much more normal and he gets to enjoy tasty treats too. Plus we're saving money. Have you seen my husband eat?! He goes through a box of tastykake krimpets in a matter of days. Home made things not only cost less but gives us more goodies and lasts longer.

I'm also starting to notice that the less processed foods I eat really impacts my daily pain. Anything that can make my pain less significant is worth continuing for me. Not to mention the other health benefits that you get by eating fresh foods. I've also made it my goal to try new foods, which makes my hunt for recipes even more fun. Plus, cooking and baking is something that relaxes me.

I'm thinking I'll share my more successful recipes here as well. I don't think I'm going to go the route of making this a cooking blog. There's a lot of them out there and I like having a place to express my thoughts and feelings (when I actually have the chance and clear mind to update). But I certainly don't mind sharing the yummy when I find it!

Canadamania

I spent the weekend in upstate New York, the Finger Lakes to be precise, with my Dad, Step-Mom and Eddie. The last time I visited my Dad was probably Christmas 2007, so it was a very long overdue visit! Dad lives about 2 hours from Niagara Falls so they planned a day in Niagara On The Lake in Ontario, Canada for us. We spent the afternoon walking around the town then saw 'An Ideal Husband' by Oscar Wilde at Shaw Fest. It was a great weekend!

It didn't start off so great though. Thanks to my bestest friend Fibromyalgia, I was up until about 4:30 am so of course I slept in. So of course, the next morning. . . er afternoon. . . we rushed around packing and getting things ready to go for the trip. We're in the car driving and I'm rattling off a list of what we need. Money? Check! Checkbook? Check! Clothes? (hey, it's happened before!) Toiletries? Chargers? Check and check! So after the stuff that we normally forget, I felt confident that we remembered everything.

About 2.5 hours into the trip, right at Elysburg (Knoebels) I ask my dear, dear husband if he remembered our passports. After a good minute of silence. . . 'Eddie. . . please tell me you remembered our passports. You know, we kinda need them to get into Canada.' More silence. Eddie: 'Shhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiittttt!!! They're still on the counter top.'
Me: 'Ummmmmmm. . . what are we going to do, Dad and Ann already bought the theatre tickets.'

This after not only I reminded Eddie, but my parents and his parents reminded him (ok. . .me too) that we needed them for the trip, but I plea fibrofog on this one. So Eddie finds the nearest spot to pull over and calls his parents. Thank god for them! They were taking care of the dogs for us so they stopped over at the house, got our passports and drove to Fed-Ex. $44 later and the passports were on their way to my dad's house with the promise that they'll arrive no later than noon on Saturday. Having in-laws live so close by rocks! They truly saved the day!

So maybe we didn't have a nice leisurely day in Canada, but it gave us all some time to relax and catch up and for us to see a bit of Canandaigua, NY. And yeah, on our trip it did cause us to get held up in the line of people leaving the States (let me tell you, not too many people were beating down the border to get IN to the States) and we did happen to pick the line that took for.ev.er; but we had a really good time! It was nice to see my dad and step-mom and it was good to get out of Pennsylvania.

After the big weekend away, we had a day-and-a-half to clean the house because one of my favorite people was visiting me from Saskatchewan! It's the first time I'd be meeting her husband and son, so I was super-excited! It had been over 9 years since we'd seen each other last so this was such a happy visit. I hate that we didn't have a more planned-out visit, in the sense that we had a bunch of stuff to do. But it was nice to just sit around and catch up. Of course, we ventured out and drove the golf-carts around the farm and the boys (the adult boys) had to go check out the saw mill (I imagine there was a lot of butt scratching, spitting and grunting) while us gals caught up and managed to get our golf cart stuck . . . well, maybe temporarily immobile is a better term =)

Today we went back to Millersville to check out the campus, get some Millversville gear and eat at Jack's. If you ever happen to make your way to Millersville, you MUST go to Jack's. They've got the best fries anywhere and ONE order is an entire plate piled high with delicious fresh cut fries. It's pretty much a fixture of the University, it's unheard of that you went to MU and never went to Jack's. Aside from being one of the only places you can get booze on campus (the other the House of Pi) the food isn't expensive so you get a good non-dining hall meal without going broke.

It was sad to say good-bye after lunch, but this time we're not going to wait another 9 years to see each other. Whether we go to visit them, meet in Toronto (where she's got family) or she's back in PA visiting family again; we're not going to miss another opportunity! It was just what I needed though, this weekend and the past two days. Family and well. . . family (cause it's not always about biological connections.) It felt good and it was a reminder that I've got to work harder at keeping these connections open, because I there's a lot that I don't want to miss out on.

Under Construction. . .

. . . making a few changes to the blog. Pardon the construction, hope to have things looking normal in a day or so.

I Spent My Allowance At Perpetual Kid!

I love www.perpetualkid.com. Like borderline obsession. I follow them on Facebook, I follow them on Twitter, I follow them on blip.fm and MySpace (though does anyone really use MySpace anymore?) They've got the coolest stuff (hello, a 5lb gummy bear!!!). So I was super excited when on Tuesday I had gotten a message on Facebook saying I was the lucky winner on Monday in one of their 'Awesome 80's Band Tournament' and that I was the proud recipient of a Gift Certificate for $19.80.

Let me tell you what makes Perpetual Kid rock. It's not just the awesome gadgets and goodies you can buy on the website. I mean, who doesn't want bacon lip balm, inflatable meatloaf or Lego silverware?! I literally want everything Perpetual Kid sells. (hint hint!) What I really love is they interact with their customers and you know you're talking to a real person and not some robot (though I suspect that they do employ robots too). Heck, they've got a crew of fingermonsters working in the warehouse.

What tops it all off is each order comes with something extra. A hitchiker! You never know which one is going to stow away in your order but it makes waiting for your order all that more exciting. Oh, and did I mention that those fingermonsters work fast? And for peanuts - no really, they work for all the packing peanuts they can eat! I placed my order late Tuesday night, like almost midnight late. By Wednesday I had an email letting me know that my order had shipped and by Friday (today!) I had my order waiting for me with email confirmation of delivery. How awesome is that?

I do a lot of online ordering and I hate not knowing where my stuff is. I have never once (and I have ordered a lot from PK!) not known where my order was - even those not going to my own house. There aren't too many companies out there that do that any more. You really do feel special when you shop at Perpetual Kid!

Oh, and what did I buy you ask? I got the super awesome Eco Coffee Cup http://www.perpetualkid.com/eco-coffee-cup.aspx and the equally awesome Eco Cold Drink Cup: http://www.perpetualkid.com/eco-cold-drink-cup.aspx So super excited to use them both AND save the planet at the same time. Oh, and you really should think about adopting your own pod of fingermonsters: http://www.perpetualkid.com/finger-monsters.aspx or just collect them all!

It was the perfect way to start my weekend!

***i did not get paid to endorse this nor am i being held captive by a hoarde of fingermonsters (help!)***

The Fix

I think I understand, to an extent, what it's like to be an addict. That need for the next fix, the familiar ritual and the feeling you get when you've finally gotten it and what you're about to experience. ::Allyson Stands Up:: 'Hi, my name is Allyson and I'm addicted to reading books.'

It's 2:15am and I just completed my most recent book. I won't bore you with the title, it's by an author who with other authors co-writing his crime drama books with him has been mass-producing books every month or so it seems. Nothing noteworthy. What's the bother is that it's now 2:16 am and I don't have a book in the ques to read next. No worries, I've got tons of books that I've already read just waiting for me to revisit them like a familiar friend. They'll do in a pinch.

What's gotten under my skin is that I want a new book to read. One that I've never touched before. I want to bring it home, crack open the spine and hear the pages as they skim through my fingers. I want to see the nice little letters all dressed in black and in nice neat lines like little soldiers of words, ready to go into my head at my command. Like any good junkie will do, there's the smell of the product that just hits home and makes the experience so much more enjoyable. There is nothing like the crack of the spine in a new book when you smell the binding glue, the smell and the feel of the pages. Older books are so much more better, they creak and crackle like the joints of an elder would. Their pages once so bright have weathered to shades of ochre and amber and are dry and a bit musty. They smell of dust and of the homes they once belonged to. Those books, those are the true joys. Those are the loved books.

Don't get me wrong, I won't read just anything for the sake of reading or because it's an old frail book. It's about consumption of the book that's just as important to the process and experience as any other, does the book and characters draw me in, do they feel real? When I'm so drawn into a book that when you stop reading and you come out of the book, real life seems a little bit more bright and more harsh than when you left it. The world could literally and figuratively crash around me when I'm reading and I would pay no mind and be content to be left completely alone as I were. Those are the good books.

By far, one of my favorite things to do with a new book as I crawl into bed is to crack the spine in preparation for reading. It's something I do not do until the book is mine. In fact, I have been known to return books to the shelves whose readers have cracked the spine already mid-browse. You know, there are ways of skimming books without cracking the spine. Once I'm settled into bed, usually with a snack, some hot tea, one or two cats depending on their mood and a comfy blanket or at least a piece of that comfy blanket - the amount to be determined by the one or two cats, depending on their mood. It's the perfect set up. It calms and settles me. The world around me, for now, can wash away and I can get lost in someone else's story.

So here's the rub, dear readers as it approaches 2:35am, I have that twitch that only a new book will fill. Sure, cracking open a familiar story still has those tactile senses that I oh so look forward to, but there's nothing like a brand new book that belongs to you. I read like some people breathe, so stale air while sometimes is sustainable, is nothing like the real thing. Fortunately for me, perhaps unfortunately for Eddie we are picking up my nephews at Borders tomorrow.

Already my body is a buzz. Books! I just need one. And lucky me, my iPhone JUST uploaded a Border's rewards coupon for 40% off of my next purchase. 40% people, you can't argue that and I promise you I'll find a book that will fit in quite fine with the rest of my collections. My mind can slow down from the day and focus on the army of words meant to remove me from the sometimes overwhelming unnecessary crap of life these days. And like water, I've found one more tangible thing that restores my soul.

Ink

I was reading this really awesome blog (Hi Amy!!) and came upon a post she had made regarding tattoos and the indescribable want to have one. She, like me, has had a long-standing relationship between the want/need to have a tattoo and real life getting in the way sometimes. Not only that, but she's got a wicked cool sense of humor and is just down-right awesome so go, run. . .follow her blog! www.accidentalmusings.com <---on a side note, how do I get this link clickable?

I've always wanted to get something meaningful and 'deep' and something that spoke to who I really was deep down inside. Back in my early twenties and even a bit in my teens it was because I wanted to appear 'hip' or cool even. I played around with the idea of a flower, frog, butterfly or some kind of smiling thing (yes, roll your eyes, back then flowers, butterflies and frogs even were 'deep' for me in that hippie kinda way). It was always lack of funds (or even at first parental consent) that kept me from getting inked.

It got to be that whatever reason kept me from actually getting the ink actually talked me out of doing it all together when I did have the money. Then it became a thing of pain. I don't like needles and I don't like pain. In fact, I live a good deal of my life in it so I try to avoid needless pain whenever I can. But every so often the thought of actually getting a tattoo creeps back into my thoughts and I start the inner dialogue of going through with it.

Thankfully, my tastes have advanced in terms of what I want to get put on my body permanently. I've tried to have a zen/Buddhist approach to my life as I've gotten older and dealt with issues more pressing than what party to go to or who said what about who. Let's face it, since my teens and early twenties I've been through more than most people go through a lifetime. I'd really like something to remind me to breathe and take a step back and look, listen, absorb before reacting.

I mean, breathe, right. . . the Chinese Symbol for breathe. What better reminder than that? But my irrational inner voice tells me 'But Allyson, what if they tell you it's breathe but it really means something like Kung Pao Chicken?. Then they're all going to laugh at you.' So the inner-voice talked me out of that idea. So lately I've been toying around with the Buddhist symbol 'om'. Basically the same premise as the Chinese symbol for breathe and is a common chant when centering ones self during meditation. I am presently debating if I want to add the lotus with the symbol. Though I suspect maybe this is another stall tactic that I'm doing to avoid the pain. I mean. . .I could just get OM then add the lotus if I felt so inclined.

So Amy, an open invitation: if you're ever in my area of PA or if I'm ever in your neck of the woods in MD, come drag my ass out and we'll get inked together. =)

The Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Sleep Study

So as much as I complained and said 'I'm not going', I went and had the sleep study done. It's over, I'm alive and relatively unscathed. However, I'm thinking I really should have just stayed home and rescheduled. Something didn't feel right when I met with the doc the first time and I'm usually right on when it comes to my gut reaction.

I guess the first incling that something wasn't right was how quick my meeting was with the neurologist and how disinterested he was in my response. Though I was relatively calmed down when he said that 'the good news is, you don't have narcolepsy. you're not falling asleep when you drive or at the movies. that's a good thing.' Woohoo, I got a good report. However, when he asked me questions, he just didn't seem too interested in my response. Like the fact that I flat out told him repeatedly that I only have trouble sleeping when I'm in pain and that the less I sleep the more pain I'm in, the more pain I'm in the less I sleep.

And he really didn't seem to be interested when I told him that I know there are several nights that I just stay awake reading because I know that I've got nothing going on the next day. So if I happen to sleep until oh, say, noon that it doesn't matter. I did let him know that there are days when my fibro is just all wonky and I'm awake and that on those days I'm tired during the daytime too. But it's part of the disease. He just didn't seem to like that everything had an explanation. And I get it, lets have the test just to rule things out.

I was never opposed to the sleep study. I had issue after the appointment when he said (and might I add AFTER looking at and verifying my insurance info again) 'yeah, we'll add this nap test too' and walked out the door. I was left with his tech staff to show me the facilities so I knew where I was going and what to expect on THE day. So the other thing that got my 'ally-senses' all a tingle was when I asked the tech, who couldn't speak or understand English all that much why I needed the nap test and what it was. All she could say was 'you just do.'

OK. . . maybe it was lost in translation. So I try my best to quiet that little inner voice that was getting louder by the day. I kept saying, it's one day, it's no big deal, you've got tv, internet and you'll be sleeping, how hard can that be? So I arrive to the brand new building on the night of my test with my overnight bag, my laptop and some water and snacks (they encouraged packing food). It was the first of several days that were in the triple digits so I was very glad that I was going to be in, as they promised, my own individual climate controlled room, I can't sleep if it's hot.

Had I known that their idea of individual climate control was a fan on a stand and that their AC unit wasn't working, I'd have waited until things got fixed or had gone to a different office for the test. If they want me to sleep, I can't do it when I'm uncomfortable. However, I told myself that this was like a band-aid. I just had to get it over with. Besides, it always gets cooler overnight, it can't be that bad. If only I was prepared for what to come. Rather than write it all out, I'll list what exactly went wrong once they started putting on those thingamabobs to read my brain.

1.) No internet. Tech, who like tech on first office visit and all office staff, is from Russia and speaks very little English. She tells me that she called the office manager about the problem and that the office manager will give it to me tomorrow. Whatever, I was getting ready to sleep, as long as I had it by the next day when I was confined to the box, I'd be ok.

2.) There's a train. It is a parking-lot depth from the building. A BRAND NEW building. It runs by every half-hour. It shakes the building and it's loud. WHO puts a sleep study office a 'peaceful and tranquil sleep environment' <--their words not mine, RIGHT BESIDE A TRAIN?!

3.) The building is underneath the flight path for the helivac for the Berks and Lehigh Valley so every medical evacuation that required helicopters flew RIGHT over the building.

4.) It was soo hot that the little dohickeys kept MELTING off of my head not only pushing back the time that it took to do each nap test but disrupted my sleep at night. It was also so hot that the machines that were hooked up to my dohickeys were overheating. It was so hot that I had to change rooms because the machinery in my first room overheated too much.

5.) The internet was not fixed. After 3 weeks of being in their brand new office their phones and internet still did not work. So if your AC, phones and internet don't work - why the hell are you in your new office? How can you run your business?

6.) Thankfully, I had internet on my iPhone. So I looked up what exactly a nap study was because they still wouldn't tell me what it was and why I needed it. They also wouldn't get a doctor to come in and explain it to me either, even though I saw not only MY doctor but the other doctor in the practice as he walked down the hallway. A nap test determines if a patient has narcolepsy. WAIT, say what?! Remember that discussion that I had with the neurologist when I was at the first office visit. He flat out told me that I don't have narcolepsy. So why then, am I getting tested for it? Wonder if that has anything to do with that verification of my insurance that he did before he walked out the door. . .

What really bothers me, is not the fact that it was near impossible to sleep, that it was way too hot and that they flat out lied about the peaceful environment with internet and climate controlled rooms. What bothers me is the fact that as a patient, I had questions, regardless of how stupid they thought they were. They could have answered them and if they couldn't, they should have found someone that could. That fact alone was what had me sitting in a box of a room near panic attack. I don't like being told 'just because.' Especially when it involves my health. I mean, just because my insurance covers amputations doesn't mean I'm going to go to the hospital and just have them start whacking away at my limbs 'just because'.

I felt taken advantage of. So needless to say, I am not going back to this particular office for the results of this test. And I sure as hell am not going back if I need to have another one done because of any malfunction of the equipment because of the heat. There are other specialists who work at the hospital and even in King of Prussia that I would gladly go to. I have no aversion to the test(s) itself. I should have taken the clues at the first visit when the doc was too busy and disinterested in what I was saying that I should have asked about other options.

It was a calamity of events, and seemingly only something that would happen to me. I tend to have the luck of a series of unfortunate events that follow me around. I either go big or don't go at all when it comes to these kinds of situations. Lesson learned, I've got to listen to what my 'ally-senses' are telling me and just go with that initial gut instinct. Hopefully there was something to learn from this experience. Maybe they found something that will help with the FM or nothing at all and this was just one more thing to rule out. Either way, there has to be some good from the bad.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream. . .

Hamlet said that once, in his 'To Be or Not to Be' soliloquy. While he was talking about death, I'm talking about sleep. Honest to goodness sleep. And since I haven't been doing that so well lately, my fibro doc wants me to have a sleep test done. At first, I was all about the sleep study. Anything for answers. Plus, when I can and do sleep, I do it well.

That was until I met the neurologist. He's all for the sleep study too. He suspects that when I can't sleep sometimes my brain is actually asleep while I'm awake. It's typical of fibromyalgia. So he's gonna add an extra special test called a nap study. I thought maybe nap was an acronym for some wires they add to my noggin while I sleep. Nope, not so much. They actually want to study me while I nap. Again, at first I thought no big deal. Until they described it in detail.

Tomorrow night (did I mention it was tomorrow?) I show up around 9pm. They show me to my box (yeah, that's what I'm gonna call it from now on) where I can change into my pjs. Well, I'm gonna one-up them and show up in mine because I mean business. I'll get hooked up to all kinds of wires and dohickies and from there they confine me to my box for the night or from whenever they get done til 5am when they wake me up.

Here's where the super-extra fun stuff comes in. My box doesn't have a bathroom. There is a communal uni-sex bathroom that all of us guinea-pigs get to share. Oh yay, who doesn't love sharing a bathroom with strangers while hooked up to machines. Other than that, they want me to stay in the box which is climate and light controlled (for purposes of the test).

Then, every hour-and-a-half they'll make me take a nap. What the fuck?! Are we back in kindergarten? Do I get a snack too? So I get to lay in bed for 20 minutes and if I fall asleep they'll let me sleep for 30 minutes, otherwise I have to lay there for 20 minutes. Then they wake me up and repeat this all day until about 4pm. Let me outline my biggest issues with this whole nap thing:

1.) I do not do well when I'm expected to sleep. The more I feel I need to sleep or that someone wants me to sleep; the less I'm gonna sleep. It's not really out of defiance. . . it's just how I roll.

2.) When I fall asleep, and because it doesn't happen that often that I fall asleep, I don't want to be messed with. So please, if you value your health, don't wake me up!

3.) The only way I can go out into sunlight is if I were a smoker and needed to smoke. So, I think I'm gonna take up smoking tomorrow. Maybe they won't be able to tell if I buy those candy cigarettes. . .

4.) They're going to video tape me sleeping. What if I do something embarrassing like fart really loudly, or have weird movements when I sleep. . .or even if I talk in my sleep?! I don't want that recorded for posterity!

So yeah, I'm gonna be in a room all by myself. And yes, I'll have access to tv and I can take my laptop to do 'work.' Hopefully I can pirate some wireless and I'll bring books and all that stuff. Eddie says to think of it as a business trip where I'm expected to sleep. That's what I'll keep telling myself while I'm stuck in the box.

I think what it all comes down to is that I'll have absolutely no control over anything. Not when I wake up, when I fall back asleep and really when I leave the box. Because in order to go to the bathroom, I'm gonna have to be unhooked and I can't imagine them letting me do it myself. I also don't do well in confined locations either. And this box is small. It's going to be interesting, this study of mine. I hope that I can get right to sleep when I get there. I hope I can be a good nap taker too. And I hope that it goes by quickly. So expect updates of my confinement starting tomorrow night. 'NAP-Gate' starts tomorrow at 9pm.

Weekend Update

It's been awhile since my last post. I've just been kinda sitting back and letting everything sit in and get situated before I posted. And I'm not sure if I've quite digested everything because it was a lot in one weekend. I guess I'll start at the beginning, it's always the best place to start anyways. . .

We all know I wrote my dad a letter that was 16 years in the making. I said things that I wasn't able to say for whatever reason there was at the time. As soon as my dad got the letter he called (time frame: letter goes into mail in PA on Sunday arrives in NY Wed) and by Thursday we had made plans for dad to stay at my house for the weekend.

It was a lot to absorb in a quick amount of time. I shouldn't have questioned that he wasn't going to react as quickly as he did, and I'm glad he did. Talking when things are fresh in your head is a good thing. I think had we waited any longer what was important and what was on my mind at that time would have been forgotten or put into my memory for another time.

Again, I find myself unable to put into words the exact feeling I'm feeling. What I learned was that both my dad and I tend to just wait for things to happen rather than acting/reacting right away. We both tend to take the path of least-resistance when it comes to maintaining this relationship. It's a very cautious relationship. In part because I didn't have my 'voice' until now. I couldn't tell him what it felt like up until now because I didn't recognize it up until now.

I just know that I should have been more vocal in the past and that I should have told him what was going on before now. We can't change the past. The weekend was good. We talked a lot, I learned a lot about him but also my family and where I come from. More importantly, Eddie got to spend time talking to my dad one-on-one. They never really had that opportunity before.

We both know that it's going to take effort going forward. That we've got to be more active in keeping each other updated on what's going on in our lives. More importantly, we're going to spend more time together. Whether we meet half-way for the weekend or we go between each other's houses, we'll be spending more time together. I feel like a 100 ton weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I've said my peace and it's been heard. There is only forward now.

Happy Happy!

Today, my maternal grandmother turns 90 years old. It's such a happy day for us. Mom Mom has been a constant steady in my life when things were not always as they should be. I can't say that Mom Mom did anything extraordinarily different than any other grandparent would do for their grandchildren. But for some reason, Mom Mom and I had a connection that has been there for as long as I can remember. She was, from my earliest childhood memories, unconditionally there for me. From her, I learned unconditional love.

We had so much fun together when I spent the weekend at her house that I would ask to spend the weekend at her house every week. We cooked, sewed and played games and my brother and I were spoiled rotten. But it wasn't about being spoiled (though what child wouldn't love that?). I can't accurately explain why, but there was something special about Mom Mom and me. She wasn't just my grandmother, she was a friend.

I remember one weekend, while I was watching her cook my favorite dinner, she said to me 'When you get older, you're not going to want to come spend the weekend with me anymore.' I remember telling her that I will always call to spend the weekend, that it couldn't imagine not. As I got older and started going to sleep-overs, having my own things to do with school and friends then dating; I still always found my way back to Mom Mom and Pop Pops house for the weekend.

When I went to College, it was the weekly letters from Mom Mom that kept me going. I always looked forward to walking to my mail box in Gordinier's student Post Office. There was always $2 'for gum' and some stamps; a reminder that I needed to write home and tell her all about my college experience. And when I met my husband, it was Mom Mom who knew that he was the one. As we were preparing dinner one night she told me 'when you marry Eddie, your initials will spell ASS.' I had only been dating Eddie for several months at the time, but when she knew, I knew that I had met someone special. After all, it was her approval that mattered the most.

As Mom Mom has gotten older our roles have reversed. It's my house that she's spent the weekend at. I'm the one taking care of her, helping her with tasks around the house. Now I get to cook for her and spoil her rotten. And nothing has changed in our relationship. I still know that I can talk to Mom Mom about anything. I know that above all, Mom Mom loves me unconditionally.

So as I'm getting ready to walk out the door to head to her celebratory dinner, I go remembering a conversation we had a few months ago. One day, after spending the day with Mom Mom, as Eddie and I were walking out the door, she pulled me in for a hug and said 'You two are my best friends.' And she's right. We are and I wouldn't change that for anything in the world.

Summer

It's Eddie's first full week of summer break. Normally I'd be getting calls at work reminding me that he was home while I wasn't. This year, now that I'm home too it's going to be interesting. Officially, he's been done with school for four work days and it's already been an exhausting 4 days.

The last time we had a summer together was the summer we moved to Berks County, 9 years ago. Back then we were in a condo. There was no yard to mow, no things to tinker with around the house. We pretty much hung around the house every day. To put it politely, I was more than pleased when school started up that year.

In past years, it was always an adventure during summer break. I never knew what I was coming home to. A room in the basement for the dogs, complete with ramp to the window, electrical outlets and water hook up; a house inside the room with bedding for the dogs. Or the pond in the back yard complete with fish. A completed deck almost as long as our house. How about an outdoor kitchen with a porcelain sink.

This summer, already, we're stumbling over each other's routines. Now that Eddie's dad bought a saw mill he's been itching to spend every second working to get it up and running. Oh, did I mention that on our farm and between Eddie, his dad and uncle we have pretty much anything you can think of. Need a hole dug, we've got the back-hoe to do it. There are 5 mowers of varying sizes, at least 2 working tractors and god knows what in the barn. And have I mentioned the time that he took my '87 Honda and turned it into a log splitter, wood planer and have used the parts to make various other things? But I digress. . . back to this Saw Mill.

They're not as big as you think. I thought a Saw Mill meant a huge lumbering barn with blades and gears and chains. In reality this one is small in comparison to my initial guess. But this saw is not small either. And though it eventually will take some of these lumbering trees that have fallen throughout the property and cut them into 2x4s and wood planks; it still needs a lot of work.

As I type, Eddie is welding something, I'm sure he mentioned it as he ran out the door like a kid going out to play. I could tell as the morning wore on today that he was just itching to go there and do something. And if he's not playing with big toys or building things at the house he's taking apart things in our house and turning them into something else. He can not sit still. So while I pictured a summer of us lounging around and enjoying this time together, he pictured a summer of tinkering.

So we've come to a compromise. We'll spend a day or two with my mom and grandmother helping her out around the house and taking her to appointments and other outings. But I'd also like to be able to go out and do some local exploring. Like going to the Philadelphia Zoo, The Franklin Institute, Longwood Gardens. There's so much to do around here that we take for granted. And of course, Eddie will have his tinker time too. Which will be good for me, I'll need a break from his endless supply of energy. I swear he's got a flux capacitor built into him somewhere because that much energy is just not natural.

More importantly, I think that this summer will give us the opportunity to also connect in a way that we probably lost sight of. There's no work or school lumbering over us. I'm not so completely exhausted from work or emotionally drained that I don't want to do anything. There are no projects to put together, lesson plans that have to be turned in. So we actually have Ally and Eddie time. I'm looking forward to what the next month or so will bring.

Big Step

I did it. I wrote my dad a letter. I don't think it made sense but I said everything I needed to say. I tried to write this letter so many times before in my head. I knew exactly what I was going to say. But when it came time to put pen to paper I couldn't exactly be accurate about how I was feeling.

It was like I was 16 years old again and I just rambled in these tangents. I repeated myself a lot. But I did it. It's done and it's going in the mail tomorrow morning. Regardless of what happens, I'll know that I said what I had to. I put into words what I felt and am feeling. It was all the words I could never say in person.

So it's up to him. I told him I wanted an honest relationship going forward and I wanted to get to know him, and more than superficially. I don't want my dad to be a stranger any more. We can't change the past and we can't make it go away. All we have is now. I just hope that we can go forward and be honest with each other.

A Daughter's Anguish

Nobody better than me knows that Father's Day is fast approaching. More than others, this one is really bothering me. I haven't really talked to my dad since August of last year and that's a fair estimate. I know those who have lost a parent see the idiocy of my actions. But here's the thing. When your parents divorce, mainly the things that your father did before/during/after, sometimes death is easier.

My dad chose to leave. He chose to have limited contact with his two biological children and spend his time raising his step-children. When you see your father more invested in the lives of someone elses' kids when all you want is some kind of attention from him; your heart breaks in ways that you can't even begin to imagine. So yes, death would have been easier, it would not have been a choice that he made to leave us. I could grieve and know that it would get better. Rather, divorce is living death. You grieve when he's gone, you know that when you do see him you don't see your father but a stranger that looks like your dad and talks like your dad but isn't (maybe he's a zombie?).

I know that every time I see him that *I* put myself into those situations. I don't know if the reason everything is stalled when we see each other is because we're both afraid to resume life or start over. I won't deny that some of the things I did or some of the choices I made have hurt him too. I know that Dad still sees me as 16 years-old in so many ways. I can't fully explain the logic and reasoning in my head for the reasons that I'm still conflicted and in pain and why I let myself feel that way.

When he left, I was old enough to understand what was going on. My brother, on the other hand, did not. The day that he left, I made a promise to myself that I would protect my brother from what was going on. If I could deflect the pain and the shitiness of the situation; and I could help mom so that things didn't feel so lopsided that my brother would walk away relatively unscathed. I knew there would be times that I couldn't deflect the pain but if I could at least lessen what was there. Sometimes I feel like I failed him in that aspect.

I blame my dad for a lot of what we went through. I blame him for causing my mom pain by leaving, I blame him for turning our lives upside down, for hurting and letting down my brother and I blame him for walking away for reasons I still don't fully understand. And I blame him because it just doesn't go away or get better. Yes, I own some responsibility for that. And I don't know what to do to fix it.

I feel like I owe my dad an explanation for my silence. I can't fix this thing by myself. He's my father and deep down there is a biological connection that as much as I steel myself from the pain and disappointment, it never goes away. I ache to know that I am letting my father slip away. To go back to the past is always a mess. I don't think he fully understands what life was like when he was gone. What his actions, whether or not he thought would involve us, did and how they really did upend our lives and how in so many ways it still does.

I don't know where to go with this. When you deal with someone whose thoughtlessness caused so much pain, how do you go forward? I don't want to keep this living death going anymore. Walking away isn't working, it doesn't make everything better. Emotionally I can't, I'm emotionally stunted and I just don't have the energy to keep this up. I don't know how to make this relationship with my dad work so that not only I can move forward but so can my dad.

Two Little Girls, Two Corners

I need water. And not in that normal need to survive, stay clean kind of way. I feel like I can't breathe here in all of the trees. No, no flashbacks to 'Splash', I'm not a mermaid. I just have this need to be near water and preferably in it.

You can blame my parents and by proxy Jackie's grand-parents for this little quirk of mine. Living at opposite ends of the street and corners we spent much of our young life together walking back and forth to eachoher's pools. Who could do the most laps underwater or the craziest leap were not just games - we were serious, records were meant to be won and held onto for as long as possible.


We'd run from pool to pool each day, each week our towels, rafts and pool toys ruffling behind us like soldiers gone to war. There was something about swimming to the point of exhaustion that you kept going knowing that inevitably one of our responsible adults would call us inside for something to eat. Sandwiches and chips at our house and oddly cucumbers in apple cider vinaigrette at Jackie's (of course we had ice cream too). Then it was back to business until we were called out of the pool for dinner. I particularly enjoyed the walk back home for dinner. The feeling of walking the hot pavement back and feeling the cold water of her pool evaporate off of me in that short distance that I'd have to jump into mine as soon as I got home, upsetting mom as she was expecting dry children as dinner guests.


Then there was the last swim of the evening when getting out of the water was colder than staying. Watching lightening blink around you and enjoying the solitary quiet of just you and the pool. How it felt to pull your fingers out of the water to watch it drip away and cool your hand. It was as if life and all of its' troubles were doing the same. The black sky seemed empty and yet comforting, like a blanket at night before bed that when you finally did make it to bed you felt as though you really did conquer the world. Sleep was deep and much needed and yet you woke each day ready to do the same thing again.


Somehow this was never lost on me. Places change, people move but water has always been a purifying aspect of my life. Surrounded by it the calm bold blue color is inviting. The smell of water (salt, spring, what have you) envelops you and welcomes you. You trade the pool toys and floats for real life worries and issues. That need to regain the sense of me and let everything else just float away presses on me like a weight.

Since then, it doesn't matter how much water there is, I need to be near it. In many ways it was about the friendship that grew or the miles walked (and that are still walked in dream) between the two houses letting the sun evaporate the water and the pavement warming our toes. It was also the weight of the world washing away each step, plunge or push into the pool. It was every care and worry evaporating clean out of your pores. In water you are weightless and all that mattered was not sinking to the bottom. And when all else failed you swam up for a gasp of air.

Wild Packs of Angry Pigs

After a late-night dinner with my husband, we were pulling onto our road when he asked me if he could stock-pile some guns. The pacifist in me wants nothing to do with things that shoot projectiles and cause bodily harm to human or animal. Curious, I asked why he felt that he needed to build an arsenal when we don't have any need to have one. His reply: 'So when the wild-pig armies invade our area we can defend ourselves.'

I had no words. ME, with no words. I don't think I even breathed for a few seconds. After coming-to I asked if his sugar was low ( 1. because he was driving and 2. because he was driving) and he happily replied yup. So I asked him why he felt that we were about to be invaded by wild packs of angry pigs. His response . . . 'because they're coming.' Right.

He says all over PA there are nests of pig armies that were brought to the States from the Spanish Conquistadors and they've finally made their way to PA. I'm stumped AGAIN. Twice in one night. And not only is he NOT bullshitting me, and I know when he does, he gets this twinkle in his eyes and the corners of his mouth curl up; but he is serious. Like heart-attack serious. I don't know where he heard this. Actually, I don't know where he hears half the things he tells me. I can only imagine what he was like as a child, which scares me to death to think of what OUR children will be like.

Hopefully I can get some information out of him in the coming days about what this pigvasion is all about. All I know is I've got a stockpile of weapons to prevent. =)

A Social Bee

I have had quite the busy weekend, despite a few nights of insomnia. Friday, the hubs and I had hair appointments. Poor Eddie, he was all of 15 minutes, I was a good 3. Melissa, my new stylist has been really trying to lighten my hair and subtlely so that we don't fry my hair in one sitting. From there she puts in fine hilights and then we have the lowlites that best match the base color as we level down.

This was the first time in several months that I sat back and thoroughly enjoyed my visit. We managed to be her only clients that night so we just talked about all kinds of stuff. It was very relaxing and just nice to interact with like-minded people again. Plus, we were so close to home. Before we drove over 45 minutes to get our hair done. This time we were able to go out for dinner afterwards and still get home before 9:30.

I love that the salon uses Aveda products. They're all natural, they've really gone product by product and removed as much chemical as they can. And when they find that they can make something better they make those changes too. I don't smell or feel the color on my head. My hair has never been this shiny, soft and easy to manage. My cut is wonderful. If I don't want to do anything to it, I just let it air-dry. I can scrunch it with a small bit of curl creme and I've got great waves that stay. I just feel like my hair reflects what I wanted it to look like in my head. She LISTENS to not just me but Eddie - and it's not her idea. We both pull out the color samples and hair style pictures until we've got the right one. It's wonderful. Sometimes change, even when you don't think you need it, is a good thing.

And today, despite yet another night of not sleeping, I made myself get out of bed at noon (hey, don't give me crap - I went to bed at 5am!!)We played Mini Golf . . .I won! Which let me tell you, that seldom happens. I am the queen of 6s and up! I felt great afterwards so we walked around The Daniel Boone Homestead and I took some pictures as we meandered around. To top it all off, we called my in-laws who were watching our nephews this weekend. I was feeling so uncharacteristically great that I thought we'd all go to 'The Works' for dinner and games. 'The Works' is like a Dave and Busters type game place. The boys barely made it through dinner with anticipation.

We ran around the whole game room. I drove an 18 Wheeler, a job that I am now confirmed that I am not capable to do, fought ghosts and spaced invaders, fed lions and elephants and crocodiles, fed huge dogs their food, played skee-ball, rode jeeps, and played some mystery jackpot game. Don't you know Timothy got the jackpot? Over 600 tickets!! By the time the night was over, the boys had nearly 1000 points each. They were not interested in the 900 point toys. Well, the youngest was. Timothy wanted every 10 and 25 reward that they had. We finally worked it up that he got some toys for larger points so we were not there until midnight picking penny prizes. As we walked out we were invited to their next outing to 'The Works' by Timothy because 'Aunt Allyson is cool.' Oh did that make my night. . .

As much as I am huring from this big day and as much as I know I have not even begun to feel the repercussions, I had one of the greatest days in a long time. It felt good to get sun on my face and to move those muscles despite their cries to stay still. If I can push it, tomorrow we've got some shopping to do. I'd really like to keep going. I've got to push my limits and see how far I can go with this. What is too far? Though I doubt it'll be so cut and dry. One thing may let me do marathon shopping sprees, yet walking an entire day at Daniel Boone might knock me out for a week. But In owe it to myself, now that I have this time off, to find out what it is.

And as 1am rolls around and I complete this blog, I feel the blanket of sleep wrap around me. It's comfort pushing me gently to the bed. My eyes, for the first time in days are slowly closing. I think I will sleep and that I will sleep well. Something that above everything else today makes me the happiest.

It's My Party, I'll Cry if I Want To.

Unbeknownst to me, my body has decided to go on a sleep strike. Of all things. Sleep. Why not hunger. I could stand to lose the weight. But nooooo, sleep. Since a little before Memorial Day I've been trying to sleep. I got a couple days in, but I'm back to no sleep again. And yeah, I know, happy happy joy joy and all that bullshit.

Guess what, today I'm going to be a bitch and today I'm going to bitch about it because damnit, I want my sleep back. It's not even just being tired anymore. I now have the lovely buzzy electrical, thousand racing thoughts in my head, aching, twitching never getting comfortable no sleep pissing me off side effect of fibromyalgia. This buzzing sensation is so odd. It's like there are bees in me. And not in the cool Homer Simpson way either. I don't shoot them out when I talk so when I talk bees attack people. No, this is just buzzing around humming inside every cell. It's the creepiest feeling by far that I've encountered.

Forget about reading too. I either read a few pages and forget what I've read (which is VERY unlike me) or I can't get comfortable enough to read. I can't do anything with flower arranging because this buzzing humming has made my fingers near useless. As hard as I've tried arranging by mouth, people don't appreciate slobbered on arrangements. As much as you try, you can't sell them on the 'it's not slobber, it's dew' theory. So I've spent way too much time this week on the internet. I now play more games on Facebook than I care to that I know will involve way more time than I'd like to spend. Words and pictures just pass by my eyes online, the tv, books and magazines and they don't connect in my brain.

I know that when the weather gets better and it isn't storming or threatening to storm every day that I'll get some relief. But fuck, why can't it be now? I have thoughts in my head and I want to get them out but they stick there. I write and it doesn't sound right, not like me. I know, then don't write, but here's where I'm really stressing myself out. I haven't talked to my dad since last August. Among the bazillion other things that have happened since last summer until now; I made the choice to temporarily cut my dad out of my life.

We don't have the closest relationship to start with. But last summer, I really felt like my life was crashing down around me. And adding the stress of the holidays (stressful because I always have expectations of good holidays with him and the ever present dissapointment because I realize that my father is ultimately a stranger) I just had to cut something out and compartmentalize the things in my life that were crashing around me. So the Dad/Step-Family box has been in storage 5 miles away and out of my sight.

With father's day approaching and the looming fact that I at least owe my dad some kind of explanation of what is going on in my life, I know I have to get in contact with him somehow. The most passive way for me was to write him a letter. So what to say, 16 years of hurt and dissapointment have been buzzing around with the bees. These words are just floating around, fragmented and confused and I don't know how to put them together but I know that I have to.

I know that once I sleep I know that it will all come together. Will it magically make everything ok between my dad and I? I'm not getting my hopes up. It'll be done, I'll have said my peace and will know that was all I could do. If I could only read and relax and rid the buzzing humming tension and get a few days of good sleep, my mind will be so much better. I'll be able to focus on the good instead of the bad. So bear with me if it takes a post or two or three to get this shit out of my system.

In Memmorium

To those that have, those that do and those that will; Thank You!

No Sleep `Til. . .

No. . .seriously, no sleep `til when? I'd really like to know. I've spent more time awake this past week than I have asleep. I finally, after complete and utter exhaustion, get maybe a day or two of a regular sleep cycle and then it's a slow and gradual decrease of sleep each night. The less I sleep the more I hurt, the more I hurt the less I sleep.

I know it's the nature of the fm beast but can't a gal get a break? On the bright side (yeah, I remember that promise I made too) I've been reading a lot. Since I was practically born with a book in my hand, I really can't complain all that much. I'm never one to miss an opportunity to read and it pretty much doesn't matter what it is as long as it's in english (I'll even read a book to completion even if I don't like it.) So I guess if I've got to stay up til all hours of. . .well. . .any time, I've got a lot of reading to do.

That should make my husband happy though. I've got two nearly 2ft and 1 1ft stack of books I've accumulated that I've got to read. Did I mention that I like to read, you might not have picked up on that yet. Not to mention the books that I've had loaned to me (sorry mom!)that I haven't touched yet. So I mean really, this whole no sleep thing is a win-win situation right? More time awake is more time to read, more time to read makes a happy Ally and a happy Ally is a less owie-Ally. Now if only I can add more hours to the day. . .

You All Everybody

So LOST is over. Six years of probably one of the most talked about shows since Dallas is over. Were you left feeling a little. . .lost? I'm going to set aside my personal feelings of the ending for a second. There's some things about the show that I think people are probably overlooking.

1. Lost revolutionized the way we view television. Not only were there fanpages and blogs and chat rooms for the show but the cast participated. And not just Bob who was in one scene for a blink-and-you-miss-him second. There were commercials that aired not just during the show relating to products on LOST. Books that were read by characters in the show were being read by fans of the show. There were online games related to the show, interactive websites and magazines. There was nothing like it before. This was mass-media marketing at its greatest!

2.) People TALKED about this show. You couldn't go anywhere on a Tuesday leading up to the airing of the show without hearing the show mentioned. Not to mention the viewing parties, office water cooler talk of the show. Not to mention the day following, you had to see what people thought, what the theories were about that smoke monster. It brought people together.

3.) People routed for and genuinely cared about the characters. They were flawed, misguided and they had baggage. They were like us. They weren't glamourous friends with fantastic jobs and loads of free-time. They didn't live in beautifully decorated apartments or party all of the time in fancy clubs. Not only were the characters so well developed but the writers created such rich back stories that made you care about them oh so much more.

4.) Lost got people talking about religion, philosophy, psychology, physics and the concept of good vs/evil. People really wanted to learn what was behind the story and in most cases just what the heck some of the characters were talking about. What show has ever had such an expansive list of topics? (most in just one night!)

5.) At the root of it all, Lost was about redemption. Whether we knew it or not, we suddenly found ourselves discussing religion. Because at the base of just about every religion out there it all comes down to the chance to save your soul, the fight of good vs evil. People talked about whether or not someone could truly redeem themselves and find heaven, salvation, a higher presence in life. Not only that but it brought us some peace in a somewhat turbulent world. Good or bad, you still had the chance to make a change in your life. That good will overcome evil, hope and humanity are not gone for good. In fact, hope is proably still being watched over by Hurley and Ben on some island in the Pacific with a new generation of Losties.

Like it, love it or hate it; Lost was a groundbreaking show. I for one will ignore those that thought that they wasted 6 years of their lives watching a show that confused them and didn't end clearly. I think it did (and will probably post my theories on how the show ended tomorrow because, lets face it, everyone else is.) I'm happy with where my beloved and flawed but human characters are. I only wish we could follow that journey too.

The Daily Ow

If you ask me on just about any given day how I'm doing, 99% of the time I'll tell you about the pain I'm in. I was recently diagnosed with fibromyalgia a nerve disorder that causes, among other things, widespread pain. Though the diagnosis was recent, more than likely I've had this for quite some time. There's no one certain trigger point that makes it go from annoying to full-blown; but some specialists have thought stress, illness and trauma are triggers. In some people, it could just be age. Fibro isn't the same with each person.

I'm tired. All the time. I'm in pain. All the time. What I don't like is that I've let that become who I am. Why do I have to tell the first person who asks me how I'm doing about my pain? I've let this become me. I welcomed this in and made it part of the family. I'm going to be in pain. That's part of my life now, that's a given. I'm really trying hard to get beyond that and say 'you know what, I was able to get some cleaning today' or 'I wasn't as tired today' and be happy about that. Sometimes it's hard to look beyond the pain and the negative towards the good things in life. I certainly have enough of those to be regular Ally and not FibroAlly. So. . .in the words of one Monty Python, I'm really going try to 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.' Very sage advice, don't you think?

A Single Journey

A single journey starts with the first step. So I suppose you could say a single blog starts with the first word. I've thought about how I'd start my first blog. Something interesting maybe, to draw the reader in. An insightful look into the inner-workings of my psyche perhaps. I can't say that I live the most interesting life. I'd like to think that my view of the world is something worth sharing with the blogging world. So here goes my first blog. Hopefully you'll join me in my journey into my life in words.