Since I was a little girl I have loved going to the library. Reading in general is a full contact sport for me. I can't sit for more than about a minute without having words to rest my eyes on. I read constantly, at work, at home, in bed, at the doctor's office, you name, I probably read there.
I am sure it's related to the fact that my mother was a librarian at the Chetco Community Library when I was a little girl. I spent a lot of time there before I started school and later when I was getting too old for a babysitter, I would go there after school until my mother was finished with work.
I don't remember how old I was but I remember the moment I learned to read. At some point, the combination's of the letters started aligning themselves into words, opening doors I never imagined.
One of the first books I remember reading is Flicka, Ricka and Dicka. There were several in the series and I read them over and over. Next came Cowboy Sam. After that, nothing would stop me. I read Stone Soup, every Baba Yaga story I could find, The Midnight Kitchen, Where the Wild Things Are among many. I devoured books.
Soon, I discovered that books without pictures and smaller print had the same words as the picture books and the stories were more interesting. At that point, The Happy Hollisters, the Laura Ingalls Wilder stories, The Box Car Children, Mr. Poppers Penguins, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, The Mixed Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, and so on.
Eventually, I graduated to Trixie Belden (who I liked better than Nancy Drew, although it didn't stop me from reading the entire Nancy Drew and Hardy boys series), Judy Blume titles, and Where the Red Fern Grows among others.
Somewhere along the line, I also became a voracious re-reader of books. I still pick up books and re-read them for the 2nd, 4th and 17th time. I think part of this is because I read so fast that I miss parts of the stories and re-reading them I pick up the details I missed the first time through, and part of it is that I love a good story and if a book is good, I will re-read it just to enjoy a well-written story again.
My father could never understand why I would re-read everything, but my mother completely understood. She once told me that re-reading a book was like finding a lost friend. She was right. Of all the things I could have inherited from my mother, I think this understanding is one of the things I appreciate the most.
My mother doesn't read anymore as a result of the advancement of Parkinson's disease. I hope she remembers all of the good stories and friends rediscovered she found during her reading years.
Right now I am reading Isabelle Allende's "Portrait in Sepia" (thanks for the loan Nancy). Recently completed the Twilight series and am eagerly awaiting the next installment in the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon. (I know Judi, but I can't help myself, the story is completly compelling and I love the excrutiating detail - although I don't catch a lot of it until about the 3rd read.)
I just signed into Shelfari for the first time and am populating my books read. Because of the volume, it will take me a while to get it caught up. If you want to review my list, visit http://www.shelfari.com/o1514569231 and I invite you to participate. I would love to see what you are reading too.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Odd Places I Love to Go
With the recent news that the US Post Office may be closing over 3,200 offices across the country, I'm inspired to write a brief essay about some of the places that I love to go that may be considered somew
hat, hmmm, shall we say "unique".
First off, the Post Office. Maybe I'm too easily impressed with this, but it never fails to amaze me that you can write three simple lines of information on an envelope, put a small sticky square in the upper right corner, and stick it in a blue box and have it arrive at it's intended destination about 99.9% of the time, usually in less than a week. The technology, systems, and man power behind getting a piece of mail to it's recipient just boggles my mind. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I love the whole idea.
Think about how the system must have worked at the onset of the United States. Most mail was delivered by friends, merchants, or other itinerants, sometimes taking months to be delivered. No centralized system was available until 1691, and that system was designed mainly to serve New York and Boston and mail coming from over the pond.
Benjamin Franklin planned and implemented has operated systems for improving mail processing, reducing delivery times by half. Carrying mail at night, mile-markers on the roads, and more efficient routes for mail carrying were all designed by Franklin in his earlier role as Colonial Postmaster General for the Crown and later as the first appointed Postmaster General for the newly formed United States. His legacy is a system that will deliver an estimated 175 Billion pieces of mail in 2009.
I could go on (but won't). Suffice it to say, I love standing in line at the post office, waiting to buy my postage, and marveling at the ability for the 3rd largest employer in the country (behind only the Dept of Defense and Wal-mart) to get the coupons my grandma clipped for me from Centralia, Washington to Longmont, Colorado in about three days.
I truly miss snail mail as I write this. Every year I resolve to write more actual letters instead of emails or twitters or Facebook posts. Now that I have brought myself to my emotional knees talking about mail, I hope I will be inspired to take pen in hand and write letters to the people I truly care about.
Another place I absolutely love going that I get a lot of grief about when I try to explain to people is the dump. Or, more the more politically correct term, the landfill. There is something about going to the dump that is exciting to me. I think it stems from my love for the Boxcar Children series. This, along with The Happy Hollisters were the first chapter books I remember reading once I had mastered the Cowboy Sam books.
The idea that you co
uld create a full and functional life living in an abandoned boxcar with castoffs from other people and the money that brother Henry earned doing odd jobs was so romantic to me. The Boxcar Children, first published in 1942, were truly the (likely) unintended leaders of the Green Revolution.
The other part of the going to the dump that I love is the shedding of things I don't need anymore. I get the same thrill donating items to a thrift store. As I unload the discards from my car, I feel the lightening of a burden I didn't know I carried, like a reptile shedding it's skin. When I return home from these trips, I go the area I emptied out and admire the emptiness and light that results from removing the objects that once filled the space.
These are two odd places I love. I think I'm likely part of a minority that feels that way, but the feelings that result from visiting the Post Office and the dump are worth the strange looks I get when I mention how excited I am to go unload my car of envelopes, old clothes, and unwanted items.
Where do you love to go?
hat, hmmm, shall we say "unique".First off, the Post Office. Maybe I'm too easily impressed with this, but it never fails to amaze me that you can write three simple lines of information on an envelope, put a small sticky square in the upper right corner, and stick it in a blue box and have it arrive at it's intended destination about 99.9% of the time, usually in less than a week. The technology, systems, and man power behind getting a piece of mail to it's recipient just boggles my mind. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I love the whole idea.
Think about how the system must have worked at the onset of the United States. Most mail was delivered by friends, merchants, or other itinerants, sometimes taking months to be delivered. No centralized system was available until 1691, and that system was designed mainly to serve New York and Boston and mail coming from over the pond.
Benjamin Franklin planned and implemented has operated systems for improving mail processing, reducing delivery times by half. Carrying mail at night, mile-markers on the roads, and more efficient routes for mail carrying were all designed by Franklin in his earlier role as Colonial Postmaster General for the Crown and later as the first appointed Postmaster General for the newly formed United States. His legacy is a system that will deliver an estimated 175 Billion pieces of mail in 2009.
I could go on (but won't). Suffice it to say, I love standing in line at the post office, waiting to buy my postage, and marveling at the ability for the 3rd largest employer in the country (behind only the Dept of Defense and Wal-mart) to get the coupons my grandma clipped for me from Centralia, Washington to Longmont, Colorado in about three days.
I truly miss snail mail as I write this. Every year I resolve to write more actual letters instead of emails or twitters or Facebook posts. Now that I have brought myself to my emotional knees talking about mail, I hope I will be inspired to take pen in hand and write letters to the people I truly care about.
Another place I absolutely love going that I get a lot of grief about when I try to explain to people is the dump. Or, more the more politically correct term, the landfill. There is something about going to the dump that is exciting to me. I think it stems from my love for the Boxcar Children series. This, along with The Happy Hollisters were the first chapter books I remember reading once I had mastered the Cowboy Sam books.
The idea that you co
uld create a full and functional life living in an abandoned boxcar with castoffs from other people and the money that brother Henry earned doing odd jobs was so romantic to me. The Boxcar Children, first published in 1942, were truly the (likely) unintended leaders of the Green Revolution.The other part of the going to the dump that I love is the shedding of things I don't need anymore. I get the same thrill donating items to a thrift store. As I unload the discards from my car, I feel the lightening of a burden I didn't know I carried, like a reptile shedding it's skin. When I return home from these trips, I go the area I emptied out and admire the emptiness and light that results from removing the objects that once filled the space.
These are two odd places I love. I think I'm likely part of a minority that feels that way, but the feelings that result from visiting the Post Office and the dump are worth the strange looks I get when I mention how excited I am to go unload my car of envelopes, old clothes, and unwanted items.
Where do you love to go?
Friday, June 26, 2009
Eight Reasons why I Love Being 65 Pounds Thinner
1. Energy. I get up in the morning and feel like doing things. I work in my yard for an hour and still have energy to spend on other projects. I cook dinner for 15 people and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up before bed.
2. Clothes. I am one size away from shopping in the "regular" sizes again. Fat-lady clothes ARE NOT cute. They are either for teen-agers (so not me) or for blue-hairs (definitely not me). Every size I go down I'm able to find better and better clothes.
3. Legs. I can cross them. I haven't crossed my legs in 15 years and now I can't sit with them not crossed. I love being able to bounce Lucille on my crossed leg a la horsie.
4. Lap. I have one. I haven't had a lap in over 15 years either. When I sit on my couch and work on my laptop, it sits on my lap, not on the coffee table with me hunched over it.
5. Seatbelts. When I travel, I don't have to ask for the seatbelt extender. When I get into other people's cars, I don't have suck in my stomach and hope it will stretch all the way over my mid-section. I actually have room to move once the seatbelt is fastened.
6. Sleeves. Or lack thereof. This is the first summer in many that I have been willing to wear sleeveless tops in public. My arms are still fat, but the gain in how I feel overall makes me enjoy having the sun on my arms again.
7. Elevation. The last time I went to Rocky Mountain National Park, I couldn't walk across the parking lot without wheezing. Anytime I was up over about 7,000 feet, I couldn't function. Earlier this week, I was in the park and spent some time walking on paths that were in the woods (no hiking, aka death marching, was involved) and finished with air to spare.
8. Cooking. It seems counter-intuitive to enjoy cooking more after after Gastric By-pass surgery, but I do. I think it's because I enjoy the creative aspects so much more. It feels like an endeavor rather than a chore. I taste the food and move on rather than creating a feast for four with only one person at the table.
2. Clothes. I am one size away from shopping in the "regular" sizes again. Fat-lady clothes ARE NOT cute. They are either for teen-agers (so not me) or for blue-hairs (definitely not me). Every size I go down I'm able to find better and better clothes.
3. Legs. I can cross them. I haven't crossed my legs in 15 years and now I can't sit with them not crossed. I love being able to bounce Lucille on my crossed leg a la horsie.
4. Lap. I have one. I haven't had a lap in over 15 years either. When I sit on my couch and work on my laptop, it sits on my lap, not on the coffee table with me hunched over it.
5. Seatbelts. When I travel, I don't have to ask for the seatbelt extender. When I get into other people's cars, I don't have suck in my stomach and hope it will stretch all the way over my mid-section. I actually have room to move once the seatbelt is fastened.
6. Sleeves. Or lack thereof. This is the first summer in many that I have been willing to wear sleeveless tops in public. My arms are still fat, but the gain in how I feel overall makes me enjoy having the sun on my arms again.
7. Elevation. The last time I went to Rocky Mountain National Park, I couldn't walk across the parking lot without wheezing. Anytime I was up over about 7,000 feet, I couldn't function. Earlier this week, I was in the park and spent some time walking on paths that were in the woods (no hiking, aka death marching, was involved) and finished with air to spare.
8. Cooking. It seems counter-intuitive to enjoy cooking more after after Gastric By-pass surgery, but I do. I think it's because I enjoy the creative aspects so much more. It feels like an endeavor rather than a chore. I taste the food and move on rather than creating a feast for four with only one person at the table.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Fat Pants
Now that I've lost two sizes, I have a conundrum every weight-loss patient has to resolve. What do I do with my fat pants?
Do I save them so I can take the ubiquitous picture of me in one leg my fat pants? Do I send them to a recycling service so that they can bundle them up and send them to another country for resale? (A pair could be cut down to make two pair for some lucky recipient.) Do I hang them on the wall to remind from whence I came?
None of those options really appeal to me. Here are some thoughts that I had:
Do I save them so I can take the ubiquitous picture of me in one leg my fat pants? Do I send them to a recycling service so that they can bundle them up and send them to another country for resale? (A pair could be cut down to make two pair for some lucky recipient.) Do I hang them on the wall to remind from whence I came?
None of those options really appeal to me. Here are some thoughts that I had:
- Send them to my skinny sister, the runner. She and and my brother-in-law are campers. They could use a pair as a summer weight double sleeping bag. One person in each leg.
- I could seal off the waist and cuffs, inflate them and sell them to the weather service as weather balloons.
- With enough tar, I could patch the roof on my house (which started leaking last night) and it would save me the $1000 deductible that my insurance company is about to charge me. Since I don't have an HOA in my neighborhood I should be able to get away with that solution for years.
- Maybe the Naval Signal Corps could use them? I'm sure they are cutting every budget including semaphore flag purchases these days.
- They would make a great car cover for a mini-cooper or VW bug. Maybe even a small sedan like a Toyota Corolla. You could use the back-pockets as a hide-a-key.
- If one person held onto each leg hem, they could be the finish line at the next Olympics. Hopefully the winner won't be in the center lane. Hitting the zipper tab at those would be killer. It would be a whole new type of sports injury that would need specialized treatment.
- Since they are stretch denim, we could attach them to a frame with spring and use them as a trampoline for the neighborhood children.
- Since saving money is very hip, Hollywood could use them for the down-rent openings - a denim carpet instead of a red carpet.
- I could send them to the Boy Scouts of America. They could use them for Pup tents. If they are cub scouts, they could use the sleeping bags. Since the BSA doesn't approve of same sex relationships, we would cut the legs apart so there are no double sleepers.
- Colorado and Wyoming Event planners could use them as a tablecloths for the cowboy theme weddings that are so ubiquitous around here.
- If there is a nun novitiate around somewhere with eight singing children to care for, they could be made into jumpers and shorts for the children.
- I swear I've haven't owned a pair of Pink Pants since I was five, but if I did have fat pink pants, I could donate them to the Breast Cancer Awareness cause. They could be a Pink Ribbon on a high-rise during Fund Raising Activities.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Two Months
It's been almost two months since I took the plunge and had gastric bypass surgery. I am still figuring out my new system, but overall think I am past the surgery recovery.
It took me five years to make the decision to have surgery. I think there were two things that made me decide this was the right move.
1. I had cancer. A kind or cancer that was likely caused by my weight. I was paralyzed by the fear of a recurrence.
2. Someone pointed out to me that I no longer had the luxury of time. Between my age, the threat of another cancer and my worsening health, I knew it was time.
It took six months to get the procedure approved. The first request was denied, and then by a stroke of luck, the universe, or whatever, my company was purchased by a much larger company with excellent benefits. The surgeon's office resubmitted the request and in less than 5 days it was approved. I had my surgery two weeks later on February 2nd.
I need to pause here and send out a huge thank you to my friend Donna. She took time off from work to take me to the hospital and to stay with me during the early recovery. She made the process much easier and I can't thank her enough for helping me through those first days.
The hardest physical part of the surgery has been to learn when to quit eating. Several times after over-indulging, I have spent the evening with my head hanging over the toilet. It hasn't happened in a while so I am hopeful that I have learned the limits of my pouch.
The best part has been that as long as I don't overeat, I feel great. I have more energy then I have had in several years. I feel at least 10 years younger, which is a great feeling especially when I remember that I'm a grandmother.
The very hardest part has been breaking up with food. Food has been my friend, my confidante, and my shelter from the things that hurt me for a very long time. I am working daily on relearning my relationship to food. I still love to cook and eat good things, but as a very wise fellow WLS patient reminded me, now when I have dinner for four, there are four people at the table.
On of the best things happened when I got the hospital bill. I had expected it to be around $500 due to my mis-reading of the health insurance policy. When the bill arrived, it was $2,348. My first reaction was stress.
By the time I put the bill down on the table, I had completely changed my attitude. I realized that what I'm gaining from this process was worth any amount of money. I am happy to pay every penny of that bill and the others that have arrived from the surgeon, his assistant, the anesthetist, the EKG specialist, and so on.
I'm still early in my process. I have lost over 10% of my starting weight. I hope to lose the same amount in the next two months. I am down two sizes. I have lost over 12 inches in my measurements.
I have gained a healthy respect for my nemesis, food. I am learning not to hide behind it, but to face the things that frighten me instead. While I work on becoming the body and person I am meant to be, I expect my evolution to be littered with anxiety and joy, fear and confidence, as well as personal and spiritual metamorphosis.
I look forward to this movement of my life's sonata. My opus major.
It took me five years to make the decision to have surgery. I think there were two things that made me decide this was the right move.
1. I had cancer. A kind or cancer that was likely caused by my weight. I was paralyzed by the fear of a recurrence.
2. Someone pointed out to me that I no longer had the luxury of time. Between my age, the threat of another cancer and my worsening health, I knew it was time.
It took six months to get the procedure approved. The first request was denied, and then by a stroke of luck, the universe, or whatever, my company was purchased by a much larger company with excellent benefits. The surgeon's office resubmitted the request and in less than 5 days it was approved. I had my surgery two weeks later on February 2nd.
I need to pause here and send out a huge thank you to my friend Donna. She took time off from work to take me to the hospital and to stay with me during the early recovery. She made the process much easier and I can't thank her enough for helping me through those first days.
The hardest physical part of the surgery has been to learn when to quit eating. Several times after over-indulging, I have spent the evening with my head hanging over the toilet. It hasn't happened in a while so I am hopeful that I have learned the limits of my pouch.
The best part has been that as long as I don't overeat, I feel great. I have more energy then I have had in several years. I feel at least 10 years younger, which is a great feeling especially when I remember that I'm a grandmother.
The very hardest part has been breaking up with food. Food has been my friend, my confidante, and my shelter from the things that hurt me for a very long time. I am working daily on relearning my relationship to food. I still love to cook and eat good things, but as a very wise fellow WLS patient reminded me, now when I have dinner for four, there are four people at the table.
On of the best things happened when I got the hospital bill. I had expected it to be around $500 due to my mis-reading of the health insurance policy. When the bill arrived, it was $2,348. My first reaction was stress.
By the time I put the bill down on the table, I had completely changed my attitude. I realized that what I'm gaining from this process was worth any amount of money. I am happy to pay every penny of that bill and the others that have arrived from the surgeon, his assistant, the anesthetist, the EKG specialist, and so on.
I'm still early in my process. I have lost over 10% of my starting weight. I hope to lose the same amount in the next two months. I am down two sizes. I have lost over 12 inches in my measurements.
I have gained a healthy respect for my nemesis, food. I am learning not to hide behind it, but to face the things that frighten me instead. While I work on becoming the body and person I am meant to be, I expect my evolution to be littered with anxiety and joy, fear and confidence, as well as personal and spiritual metamorphosis.
I look forward to this movement of my life's sonata. My opus major.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Aha Moments - Tweets Ahoy!
I just had one of those Aha Moments similar to the one I had when I learned to read. I distinctly remember that burst of energy that hit my brain when I started to put together letters into words and how the words formed stories and how the stories could be written down. Thus began my love affair with words.
I had a similar burst when I used the web for the first time. I thought my head was going to explode with the possibilities. I couldn't sleep for days because my head was spinning with the leaps that we, as a society, could make. I think it was almost as if not as revolutionary as the printing press.
The most recent aha moment is about Twitter and how we communicate with our customers and vendors. It started because I sent a tweet about loving Salesforce.com and suddenly, they were following my twitters. I went to their recent updates and found a link to an article "How to Get Customer Service via Twitter". What an idea! Now we are connected via the web, via our phones, (i-phones for those who can have them - sorry Nancy & Dave), IM - what's next?
So I know I'm behind the times and slow to adopt this Web 2.0 stuff, but my god! Now that I'm there, I'm bowled over! I think my brain might explode.
If you find pieces of my brain laying around, please scrape it up and send back to me. I need all I can get. Things are moving so fast that if I don't have it all, I might not keep up.
I had a similar burst when I used the web for the first time. I thought my head was going to explode with the possibilities. I couldn't sleep for days because my head was spinning with the leaps that we, as a society, could make. I think it was almost as if not as revolutionary as the printing press.
The most recent aha moment is about Twitter and how we communicate with our customers and vendors. It started because I sent a tweet about loving Salesforce.com and suddenly, they were following my twitters. I went to their recent updates and found a link to an article "How to Get Customer Service via Twitter". What an idea! Now we are connected via the web, via our phones, (i-phones for those who can have them - sorry Nancy & Dave), IM - what's next?
So I know I'm behind the times and slow to adopt this Web 2.0 stuff, but my god! Now that I'm there, I'm bowled over! I think my brain might explode.
If you find pieces of my brain laying around, please scrape it up and send back to me. I need all I can get. Things are moving so fast that if I don't have it all, I might not keep up.
Monday, April 7, 2008
It's all about Pink
So - to go with my pink helmet, Donna got me a pink bell for my bike (it says "I love my bike" on it) and has a beautiful ting! ting! sound.
But best of all - she got me pink socks that say "Cancer Sucks!" on them. I love them! I'm going to wear them to work out in today. They are a beautiful shade of pink and they fit my attitude exactly. For your very own Cancer Sucks items, visit http://www.cancersucks.com/.
Another site that I love is http://www.crazysexycancer.com/. If you didn't see the documentary of the same name, I highly recommend it. It's a really inspiring to see someone fighting back with the humor and determination Kris Carr has. I revisit her blog and book (which I own - also courtesy of Donna) every so often to keep me from feeling sorry for myself.
Another site that I spend a lot of time on is http://www.cancerschmancer.com. Fran Drescher founded this group as a political action group to help push an agenda of early detection for women's cancers. Fran was mis-diagnosed and mis-treated for peri-menopause when she actually had Uterine Cancer. She is driving to create an environment that diagnoses all gynecological cancers in stage 1 when they are the most curable as well as pushing for an improvement in women's health care nationwide.
An organization that I would encourage everyone to look at and contribute to if possible is the Healthlinks Clinic in Boulder. Director Trudy Turvey is an amazing person that understands that treating the whole person is the most important part of survivorship. Their mission is to help survivors cope with the physical and emotional sides of surviving a frightening diagnoses. I can't say enough about how much working with HealthLinks has meant to me as a survivor.
While I feel so fortunate that I was diagnosed as early as I was even if it was a complete fluke, cancer has defined my life in a way I never expected. I sometimes wonder if there really was a "before" for me as even though it hasn't even been quite a year, it feels like it's been my life forever. Like a sonata (you all knew you would get an link to the blog name eventually - right?), this movement of my life is in a very contrasted key and theme.
But best of all - she got me pink socks that say "Cancer Sucks!" on them. I love them! I'm going to wear them to work out in today. They are a beautiful shade of pink and they fit my attitude exactly. For your very own Cancer Sucks items, visit http://www.cancersucks.com/.
Another site that I love is http://www.crazysexycancer.com/. If you didn't see the documentary of the same name, I highly recommend it. It's a really inspiring to see someone fighting back with the humor and determination Kris Carr has. I revisit her blog and book (which I own - also courtesy of Donna) every so often to keep me from feeling sorry for myself.
Another site that I spend a lot of time on is http://www.cancerschmancer.com. Fran Drescher founded this group as a political action group to help push an agenda of early detection for women's cancers. Fran was mis-diagnosed and mis-treated for peri-menopause when she actually had Uterine Cancer. She is driving to create an environment that diagnoses all gynecological cancers in stage 1 when they are the most curable as well as pushing for an improvement in women's health care nationwide.
An organization that I would encourage everyone to look at and contribute to if possible is the Healthlinks Clinic in Boulder. Director Trudy Turvey is an amazing person that understands that treating the whole person is the most important part of survivorship. Their mission is to help survivors cope with the physical and emotional sides of surviving a frightening diagnoses. I can't say enough about how much working with HealthLinks has meant to me as a survivor.
While I feel so fortunate that I was diagnosed as early as I was even if it was a complete fluke, cancer has defined my life in a way I never expected. I sometimes wonder if there really was a "before" for me as even though it hasn't even been quite a year, it feels like it's been my life forever. Like a sonata (you all knew you would get an link to the blog name eventually - right?), this movement of my life is in a very contrasted key and theme.
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