Dear Readers:
Tonight, New Year's Eve descends upon us -- the ushering in of a new era. I heard someone say to take it easy and to avoid the party scene. I've not been into party activity for years, but I do like to take note of the previous year with some reflection and private celebration. I've mixed feelings about this past year. It certainly has been a stressful one. Job transitions and family health issues predominated, punctuated by brief respites. Today is my last day at this work location; I've been here for eight years. They were mostly good years, but many of the people I knew before aren't here anymore. The culture of the place has changed to something foreign to me. It's time to move on.
Moving on takes resolve to navigate the grieving process. I'm ready to leave, but am sad at the same time. Especially so, when considering some of my patients aren't going to be seeing me any more. They'll find new doctors, but I'll miss them. Oh well, c'est la vie, right? I'll just have to make the best of it. Taking down the pictures in my office was hard. I'm not sure where I'll put them, but I'm taking them with me. Hopefully better days lie ahead. Some people have pulled me aside to wish me well and say goodbye. I'll miss them. At least new work awaits me -- I'll be at a new location this week. Though I'm glad to be employed, new starts are stressful, and I'm anxious to get over that newbie hump.
Hopefully this new year carries some good news. I'd like to see my book get picked up by an agent or editor. So far -- nada. There's a lot of hype about persevering in writing, but let's get real -- getting fiction published is difficult, and I don't want to be counted among the throngs of writers who never get their works off the ground. I saw an article from a publisher who wants writers to be authors and not marketing moguls. I liked what I read. As for other good news in 2008, I'd like to see my mother stay off the injured list. That certainly would calm my fears. She's unstable on her feet and has fallen frequently. Walkers, canes, and her "roadster" don't stop the falls (most of the time she won't use them). Last week she had to go to Urgent Care after falling; she needed eleven sutures in her hand.
I try to navigate each day one day at a time AND plan for the future. You never know what the future holds, but much can be anticipated. Hey, I'm a boy scout. The boy scout motto is be prepared. But, trying to anticipate the future is like trying to forecast the weather. The odds of hitting the mark are highest a few days into the future; nobody really knows what's going to happen further down the road. Surprises happen -- like the deer that collided into my brand new car a few months ago. That wasn't exactly something I anticipated. Also, eight years ago when I took this job, I could see myself staying here forever, but it didn't come to pass -- another surprise. So being prepared is mostly about being flexible enough to find your niche in a changing world.
I once told someone that I've gotten use to living on an ice flow: You stay put for as long as there's solid ice under your feet, but when it starts to melt, you relocate to a different one nearby. (Yes, I know -- the polar bears haven't been making it with this effort, but I said these words before I knew about the plight of melting ice caps and polar bears.) Mostly, I said this in regard to an unstable job market, but the principle of being flexible helps navigate many of life's obstacles thrown in your path. Being flexible involves pain. Today I said goodbye to friends and coworkers, and that was hard. We had good times and often engaged in good natured banter with each other. I remember when one nurse reached for papers on the floor as I walked past her.
"You step on me and you're dead meat," she warned.
"Oh, don't worry," I said. "I never step on road kill."
We laughed then and had many other friendly jests. It was a hectic and busy job, but we could still take time out for levity. I'll miss those days.
Until later.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Christmas Musings
Dear Readers:
It's five in the morning, and we're at Marty's Market for the fifty percent, Christmas Clearance Sale. Okay. . . get ready . . . get set . . . GO! And they're off. Mrs. Scuttles makes a giant leap with her specially toned quads and springs into action. Super action toys, aisle five; hoodies for sweet, little pumpkin heads, aisle ten. Yes! Three hoodies still there -- two green, one pink. What? It can't be true. Not that snotty, little Randy, the nosey neighbor two houses down the street.
He races up aisle ten and snatches Mrs. Scuttles's pink hoodie.
"Hey!" she protests. "Give that back."
"It's Christmas ma'am," he says, and tips his hat. "Season of good tidings and cheer. You just gave me some good cheer, so shut your trap." He snickers and races down the next aisle.
Mrs. Scuttles fumes and musters her powerful quads. She cuts Randy off at the checkout line. "Excuse me young man, I believe you have something of mine." She lunges for the pink hoodie and plucks it from his cart.
"Over my dead body! God is my witness," he snarls, and yanks it back.
"Oh, far be it from me to argue with our Lord, Randy. If dead is what our heavenly father wants, then his will be done." She kicks him in the groin, grabs the hoodie, and heads for the exit.
Two more feet to freedom. She collides into the store manager, Scott. He notices her distress. "Good day, Mrs. Scuttles. Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, thank goodness it's you, Scott," she says. "Randy over there looks a bit ill. He might need your help." She winks at him and smiles.
"Why sure, Mrs. Scuttles. I'll be glad to assist him in the same manner you chose. Far be it from me to argue with our Lord."
Merry Christmas to all.
Until later.
It's five in the morning, and we're at Marty's Market for the fifty percent, Christmas Clearance Sale. Okay. . . get ready . . . get set . . . GO! And they're off. Mrs. Scuttles makes a giant leap with her specially toned quads and springs into action. Super action toys, aisle five; hoodies for sweet, little pumpkin heads, aisle ten. Yes! Three hoodies still there -- two green, one pink. What? It can't be true. Not that snotty, little Randy, the nosey neighbor two houses down the street.
He races up aisle ten and snatches Mrs. Scuttles's pink hoodie.
"Hey!" she protests. "Give that back."
"It's Christmas ma'am," he says, and tips his hat. "Season of good tidings and cheer. You just gave me some good cheer, so shut your trap." He snickers and races down the next aisle.
Mrs. Scuttles fumes and musters her powerful quads. She cuts Randy off at the checkout line. "Excuse me young man, I believe you have something of mine." She lunges for the pink hoodie and plucks it from his cart.
"Over my dead body! God is my witness," he snarls, and yanks it back.
"Oh, far be it from me to argue with our Lord, Randy. If dead is what our heavenly father wants, then his will be done." She kicks him in the groin, grabs the hoodie, and heads for the exit.
Two more feet to freedom. She collides into the store manager, Scott. He notices her distress. "Good day, Mrs. Scuttles. Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, thank goodness it's you, Scott," she says. "Randy over there looks a bit ill. He might need your help." She winks at him and smiles.
"Why sure, Mrs. Scuttles. I'll be glad to assist him in the same manner you chose. Far be it from me to argue with our Lord."
Merry Christmas to all.
Until later.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Are You a Hamster or a Gerbil?
Dear Readers:
You may think a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but it's not true. Hamsters and gerbils are distinct and not the same. I know this to be a fact because I am an expert on both. For a time, my family residence was graced with the very likes of both hamsters and gerbils who called our house their home. My children dutifully cared for their needs, while I, an astute psychiatrist, carefully observed their behavior. I noticed several things about their behavior that reminded me of human beings. First of all, they get in fights a lot, just like us. Sometimes the fights were downright nasty and divorce arraignments had to be made quickly. Occasionally this required returning the offending "hammy" or gerbil to the store for a refund.
Hamsters and gerbils also like to celebrate family time. One time we were blessed to discover middle daughter's hamster had given birth on Christmas morning. What a beautiful present -- baby hamsters on our Lord's birthday. We cooed as we watched the little babies wiggle in their nest. Then, a few minutes later all hell broke loose, as I learned for the first time hamsters waged war against their kids. We discovered baby hamster parts scattered about the cage. I'll leave some of the gory details to your imagination. I guess Mommy had a violent streak. All I can say is, I'm glad she wasn't my mom. After that incident, I'm not sure if my kids will ever be normal. Middle daughter still has that glazed look in her eye.
Finally, did you know gerbils and hamsters have distinct personalities? Hamsters are lazy bums that sleep all day and run on the wheel at night. You'll be up all night listening to squeaking, moving parts. Gerbils are nervous Nellie explorers who are always on the move. Their different behaviors relate to my indoor workouts at the gym. If I'm in the mood to be a gerbil, I hit the gerbil track -- some teeny-weeny track that circles the upper floor of the recreation center. I can pretend I'm exploring this new and novel place. If I'm in the mood to be a hamster, I stand on the treadmill and zone out and let the machine move my feet. All I have to do is make a few corrective movements with my lower extremities to keep from falling off the back end.
Until later.
You may think a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but it's not true. Hamsters and gerbils are distinct and not the same. I know this to be a fact because I am an expert on both. For a time, my family residence was graced with the very likes of both hamsters and gerbils who called our house their home. My children dutifully cared for their needs, while I, an astute psychiatrist, carefully observed their behavior. I noticed several things about their behavior that reminded me of human beings. First of all, they get in fights a lot, just like us. Sometimes the fights were downright nasty and divorce arraignments had to be made quickly. Occasionally this required returning the offending "hammy" or gerbil to the store for a refund.
Hamsters and gerbils also like to celebrate family time. One time we were blessed to discover middle daughter's hamster had given birth on Christmas morning. What a beautiful present -- baby hamsters on our Lord's birthday. We cooed as we watched the little babies wiggle in their nest. Then, a few minutes later all hell broke loose, as I learned for the first time hamsters waged war against their kids. We discovered baby hamster parts scattered about the cage. I'll leave some of the gory details to your imagination. I guess Mommy had a violent streak. All I can say is, I'm glad she wasn't my mom. After that incident, I'm not sure if my kids will ever be normal. Middle daughter still has that glazed look in her eye.
Finally, did you know gerbils and hamsters have distinct personalities? Hamsters are lazy bums that sleep all day and run on the wheel at night. You'll be up all night listening to squeaking, moving parts. Gerbils are nervous Nellie explorers who are always on the move. Their different behaviors relate to my indoor workouts at the gym. If I'm in the mood to be a gerbil, I hit the gerbil track -- some teeny-weeny track that circles the upper floor of the recreation center. I can pretend I'm exploring this new and novel place. If I'm in the mood to be a hamster, I stand on the treadmill and zone out and let the machine move my feet. All I have to do is make a few corrective movements with my lower extremities to keep from falling off the back end.
Until later.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Runner's High
Dear Readers:
People talk about endorphins that kick in from jogging -- the runner's high. For me, it's not really true. Running just clears my mind and mostly invigorates me, but no high. It's enjoyable in its own right and offers a good stress buster when you need one. Trouble is, try to keep up with the motivation to hit the trails year round. This time of year in Ohio isn't the most conducive to running, unless you like being cold; wintry weather leaves one's teeth chattering. Spring and early Fall are good times; the cool weather motivates you, but doesn't freeze your hands and toes.
Today, my legs weren't so willing to run. So I gave them a rest and took them to a movie instead. I think I burned a few calories walking from my car to the theater, so that should count for something, right? Oh yes, I forgot -- I also walked back to my car after the movie. Anyhow, I'm tired from all this exercise. I think I'll call it a night after this post is done and hit the sack. Maybe tomorrow I'll tackle the indoor gerbil track and get in some laps. It does help to know I've got a marathon scheduled in February next year. Knowing I have to remain fit or risk "hitting the wall" in a marathon spurs me on to get in the daily runs.
So, enough with the runner's high. Getting high isn't all it's cranked out to be. It takes work to get off one's butt and pound the pavement. Sort of like on Monday mornings, when it takes all you've got to roll out of bed and head toward your place of employment. It takes a lot of effort, right? Runners differ in the time of day they like to put their effort to work. I'm definitely not a morning person, but one time I got out at five in the morning to lace up my shoes and go for a spin. Some runner guy who looked fully awake greeted me with a cheery hello. I felt like telling him to keep his thoughts to himself.
Until later.
People talk about endorphins that kick in from jogging -- the runner's high. For me, it's not really true. Running just clears my mind and mostly invigorates me, but no high. It's enjoyable in its own right and offers a good stress buster when you need one. Trouble is, try to keep up with the motivation to hit the trails year round. This time of year in Ohio isn't the most conducive to running, unless you like being cold; wintry weather leaves one's teeth chattering. Spring and early Fall are good times; the cool weather motivates you, but doesn't freeze your hands and toes.
Today, my legs weren't so willing to run. So I gave them a rest and took them to a movie instead. I think I burned a few calories walking from my car to the theater, so that should count for something, right? Oh yes, I forgot -- I also walked back to my car after the movie. Anyhow, I'm tired from all this exercise. I think I'll call it a night after this post is done and hit the sack. Maybe tomorrow I'll tackle the indoor gerbil track and get in some laps. It does help to know I've got a marathon scheduled in February next year. Knowing I have to remain fit or risk "hitting the wall" in a marathon spurs me on to get in the daily runs.
So, enough with the runner's high. Getting high isn't all it's cranked out to be. It takes work to get off one's butt and pound the pavement. Sort of like on Monday mornings, when it takes all you've got to roll out of bed and head toward your place of employment. It takes a lot of effort, right? Runners differ in the time of day they like to put their effort to work. I'm definitely not a morning person, but one time I got out at five in the morning to lace up my shoes and go for a spin. Some runner guy who looked fully awake greeted me with a cheery hello. I felt like telling him to keep his thoughts to himself.
Until later.
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